Page 24 of The Runaway Billionaire's Inconvenient Baby
“That’s not true,” I say, then make an ill-judged joke. “I don’t have this island yet.”
“Right.” She sighs, and that twinge of guilt washes over me again.
She really does care about this place. She cares about these people maybe more than I’ve ever cared about anything in my life. She’s giving up on her own dreams to look out for them, and all I want to do is take that away.
CHAPTER 13
BILLIE
Ikeep Jacob in the garden for as long as I can, but it’s obvious that he’s getting tired of saying hello nicely to people and pretending to care about our vegetables. The faintest flicker of interest seemed to show on his face when Suzanne mentioned our projects to help end food insecurity, but he didn’t ask any further questions about it.
It must be the businessman in him that makes him so hard to read. I guess it’s an advantage when you’re trying to make deals with people to not have your emotions show too visibly. But it’s annoying for me because I am trying to get an emotional rise out of him. I want to know what he’s thinking because that’s the only way I’m going to succeed in changing his mind.
When I promise him an ice cream, he perks up. Typical. I spend all this time trying to get him to care about people, but the second ice cream is on the table, he’s all over it.
We head back to the beach, but this time, I’m not taking him to East Beach. That’s the tourist destination, everyone’s first stop when they get here. It’s the one with the bars, the golden sand,the stores of painted seashells and handmade jewelry. I love it there, but Jacob’s had enough of that.
If I’m going to sell him on the island, I need him to see reality. He needs to see the life and work we do here that will be lost if he steals this from us.
“Where are we going?” he asks when he notices that I’m leading him away from East Beach.
“You’ll see,” I say cryptically as we head south. He doesn’t ask any further questions, but I can sense him getting more and more annoyed as we keep going without explanation. “Pollution in the ocean is one of our biggest threats, right?” I say finally.
“I guess,” he says. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“It is. Every day, thousands of tons of trash get dumped in the ocean: plastics, litter, fishing waste. These are all things that have a really big impact on the seas. And if the sea is in trouble, so is the earth. I’m sure you don’t think you have to worry about climate change or your environmental impact. Hell, I bet you’ve got a private jet.”
He stiffens at that, and I realize maybe I should back off a little. I don’t want to scare him too much. I’m right, and I won’t back down, because private jets and single-use plastics are killing the world. However, it’s best to explain what is happening in stages to people who don’t care about this stuff.
I continue. “Well, fishing is our main industry here, and we want to make sure that we fish sustainably, that we’re not taking advantage of the ocean that nurtures us. Last year, we held our very first environmental impact conference.”
“A conference?” he says, raising an eyebrow like he can’t believe that we would ever do anything significant on Havenridge. “Who would come to a conference here?”
“I’m going to ignore the way you said that,” I huff. To my surprise, his face flushes as if he’s embarrassed to have spoken thoughtlessly. “We had some leading environmental scientists here to present some of their research and to talk with our fishers about ways they can help maintain the ecosystem. We also had people here talking about ways we can protest oil spills, and ways we can reduce the amount of fuel we use. It was really exciting. Everyone got involved.”
“Even fishermen?” Jacob says, suspicious.
“Even the men and women who wake up at three a.m. every day to go out to sea and catch fish. Yes. Because the thing is, their industry doesn’t exist if the sea doesn’t exist. It’s worth their time to care about these things. That’s what we do in this community. We care.”
I’m starting to worry that I’m losing him, so I lead him down onto the sand and force myself down off my soapbox. “We’re here,” I announce.
I think South Beach is beautiful, but it’s one of the less visited tourist spots because it’s slightly further away from town and we don’t offer a bus service here. You can catch a bus every half hour to West Beach, and North Beach is connected to East Beach by a fifteen-minute walk.
But South Beach? It’s always quieter here. I like it when I need to really think about things. When I need some alone time.
The sea rushes in to greet us and the sky shines above us a deep, vivid blue. It’s a beautiful day. It’s almost always a beautiful day here.
“Where are we now?” he asks. “There’s no one here.”
“Isn’t that the point?” I say almost too harshly. I’m trying my best not to snap, but it’s hard when this guy is such an idiot. Every second I look at his face, I’m thinking about the way he wants to make us leave. “We’re going to Maiden’s Cove,” I add, taking a breath. “It’s secluded there. You’ll like it. It’s perfect for being by yourself.”
I lead him over to the gap in the rocks where you can climb through to the cove. Like yesterday, he’s wearing a stupid suit. He doesn’t look too happy at the idea of having to do anything physical, but the second we wander through to my favorite little spot on the island, he gasps, and I know that I’ve won.
It’s a tiny place, maybe only thirty feet long, curved and surrounded by rock formations. The waves slap at the stones and the water shimmers. The trees on one side of the cove hide us from the mainland, and the rocks on the other side discourage people who are here for the beach from coming closer.
“This is beautiful,” says Jacob quietly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Why do you want this island?” I ask again, my heart feeling like an open wound at the idea of losing it. “I know you said you wanted to be alone, but why? Why take our home?”
