Page 52 of The Elusive Billionaire
Madi has lived here in her grandparents’ inn since she was ten. Over the years, it’s become a home base of sorts for metaphorical orphans like Clover and me too. Muscle memory made up of comforting senses invades my mind, willing it to calm and find peace.
My pulse syncs to the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner like a personal metronome. The relief of feeling safe within these four walls eases my shoulders away from my ears. The fresh flowers that get replaced each Sunday sit on the entryway table, welcoming everyone with their bright, cheery colors.
The familiar sense of happiness and belonging has never felt this fragile though—a foundation crumbling to the ground with me standing in the center of it.
“Told ya we couldn’t keep them locked up there for long,” Cian says, turning sideways and scooting past me.
I scan the crowd, recognizing most people, but for the first time since moving to Happiness for college, not everyone greets me with warmth.
A long-repressed anxiety bubbles to life in my gut. Why are they looking at me like that?
“Meeting adjourned,” Moose calls in his booming voice. “We’ll pick this back up tomorrow. Everyone out and remember, we take care of our own. Always.”
Grey fists the back of the mud-covered T-shirt I’m wearing and hauls me back to him while all the usual suspects of Happiness, Georgia filter by. Most wear a small smile, but a few, like freaking Bethany Price, are filled with scorn.
It’s the scorn that makes it hard to swallow.
“You’re filthy,” Madi says, hugging me anyway.
Clover, who’s scared of everything from clouds to germs, opts for a high five, then immediately pulls hand sanitizer out of her bag.
“Start at the beginning,” Greyson demands. He hasn’t released the back of my shirt, and oddly, I’m okay with that.
Braxton hands us each a couple of towels, then sits at the large dining room table.
“Do you want to get cleaned up first?” he asks.
“No.” Grey takes one of the towels and wipes off my back. I’m clearly the disaster of our little excursion today.
“Okay.” Braxton waits until we’ve wiped ourselves down and fresh towels are wrapped around our chests. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
Greyson and I sink into chairs across from him as Madi hands us each a cup of Blissy’s coconut-coffee-bean something.
“Just say it.” Grey must practice speaking through his teeth—he’s shockingly good at it.
“Right before the hurricane hit, a story broke.” Madi’s eyes cut to mine with something like pity, and I accidentally fist mypaper cup of coffee so hard that the top flies off, and scalding liquid flows over my hand. I don’t feel any of it.
“Shit,” Grey mutters, quickly mopping up the mess while I stare at my best friend.
“What story?” The words feel deceptively calm as I utter them.
“Well,” Madi says. “An ‘insider’ told liplocked.com that Grey was stranded with a mystery woman from the storm, and some sleazy reporter snuck into the diner. Betty didn’t know who she was talking to, and they weren’t asking a lot of probing questions, so she felt safe, you know? Since Savvy was named as the sweetheart this year for the town fair, she got excited.” Madi speaks so quickly that her words all blend together.
I’d groan if my throat wasn’t in the process of closing up on me. The last thing I need is to be the town sweetheart. Attending the fair as a resident and all its booths, stands, and rides is chaos enough, but becoming the focus of the entire event is more than I can handle.
“Once they got Savvy’s name, they did some digging,” Brax says, not meeting my eyes.
“I’m sure it’s just someone looking for a payday, you know, since your podcast is doing so well,” Clover says on a shaky breath.
“I’m not following,” I admit.
“Short version.” Braxton sucks in a gulp of air. “When Grey went ‘missing’ during the storm”—he uses air quotes, but I’m still struggling to follow along—“Betty let it slip that Grey was getting himself a baby. That, coupled with the two of you shacked up together during the hurricane, got mouths talking. But then, somehow, your latest podcast had a personal conversation between the two of you, and everything blew up. Almost immediately, there was a security breach at the surrogacy center and…both of your profiles were leaked.”
“And then photos started circulating online,” Clover says. Her voice quivers, and I know whatever she’ll say next will be bad. “You look so young in them, Sav. Too young.”
No. No, no, no.
“Now we have media here, covering the destruction of Hurricane Isolde, and the savages who pretend to be reporters but are really just searching for clickbait.” Braxton’s tone carries a bitter edge. It wasn’t that long ago that the same tabloids harassed Madi because of his family.
