Page 21 of The Runaway Billionaire's Inconvenient Baby
But assuming that about Billie is wrong. She does care. She cares to the point of irritation. Suddenly, as we’re walking among the boats and she’s telling me a little of the history of the island, I realize this really is serious for her. At the meeting, she sounded like one of those angry old people who can’t accept change, no matter how much it’s for the better. That’s what I thought she was, someone getting in my way on purpose because they can’t accept that things don’t stay the same.
But Billie stops to give high-fives to the kids, knowing each one by name. When she volunteers for things, I’m sure it’s with thedeepest sincerity rather than for the optics. I’m seeing that none of this is a joke to her.
I can’t let my heart be swayed. Not when I’ve found my perfect place. But as Billie talks, I’m starting to realize how right she is that this island paradise is beautiful — not because of how it looks, but because of the people who live here and how hard they work to make it perfect.
What would this place be if I ripped out its beating heart?
CHAPTER 11
BILLIE
Icould not be less surprised when Jacob looks like he’s getting bored of being at the harbor. He hasn’t really said much since we started touring the hot destinations; not much beyond,do we get many tourists hereand,how many people work at the harbor?He’s clearly trying to put some sort of economic estimate on the island. I wouldn’t be surprised if he closes it off for tourism altogether when he buys it.
Ifhe buys it. I can’t let myself start thinking like that. He’s not going to kick us all out. I wouldn’t mind if he stopped the tourism, though.
I don’t hate the tourists. I do find it irritating, though, when they act like they’re entitled to our time and land because we’re the little locals to gawk at and they’re the big, smart, civilized city people.
Sounds like someone else I know.
We head back into town. I think I’ll show him the main street next. He probably already walked down it, but I guess I’ll pointout some of the things he hasn’t noticed, old buildings and things that mean something to me.
Not that he’s entitled to my personal life. I don’t think he cares anyway. He seems quite detached from everything.
I guess in his world, he’s used to getting what he wants. I don’t think ‘no’ is a word he hears very often. Not until he came here.
“Why do you need to buy the whole island anyway?” I ask. “Can’t you find a house to buy and move here? Or build your dream house and leave the rest of us alone?”
“People,” he says, like that’s an answer, and when he sees my face, he expands a little. “I hate people.”
“Yeah, I could tell.”
He sighs. “I mean, they bother me relentlessly. Never leave me alone. It’s amazing being here. All of you hate me for being the billionaire who wants to evict you.”
“Weird, but okay,” I say.
Somehow his expression gets more solemn, like he thinks I’m totally misunderstanding him. He shakes his head. “In the city, everyone recognizes me as someone famous, as someone important. I’m tired of living like that. I want somewhere I can live all by myself. Without worrying about people.”
“Seems lonely,” I say.
He hums as if in agreement but doesn’t say anything else. I decide not to push. I don’t actually care about his personal problems. He can deal with them by buying a house like everyone else.
Not that buying a house is the sort of solution that everyone else would come up with. Not everyone can afford that.
“This is my mom’s shop,” I say, pointing as we passGracie’sShack. “She’s a painter. She’s the best.”
“Ocean landscapes.” He sneers as he peers through the window.
“Greatocean landscapes,” I snap. “Don’t even think about saying something bad about my mom. She means the world to me.”
He throws up his hands again, and I grit my teeth. This mock-surrender thing he’s into is really, really annoying. Nobody I’ve ever spoken to has made me feel so unimportant.
“Everything in this town is important to me,” I say, and before I can really think, the words start flowing. “I’ve lived my whole life here. I’ve loved my whole life here. Look, see — this alleyway.” I run ahead, darting off the main street and toward some of the houses. “My best friend used to live down here. We learned to ride our bikes in this place. I fell off my bike in this alley so many times. Our goal was to make it all the way downhill when we were learning. I’ve never known anything else but this.”
“You’ve never wanted to travel?” he asks with this look of awe like he can’t believe what I’m saying.
I shrug. “I’ve been to the city. I’ve been to New York. I like going to other places. I like coming home better. I like the comfort of the familiar.”
We continue, and as the town starts to fall away behind us, the forest looms. “This is one of the best hiking trails,” I say, pointing to where the path starts winding away. “We don’t have a lot of hills, but if you head up the trail, you can find placeswhere you can sit and look out over the whole island. It’s really beautiful.”
