Page 69 of The Billionaire's Teacher

A few minutes later, I heard the incoming email chime. Zee was nothing if not efficient. But I didn’t reach for my phone. I wasn’t in a hurry to open the email. To see his contact details. To be forced to make a decision about what to do.

There was time.

* * *

I stoodon the shore and let the waves lap up over my ankles. The power had gone out yesterday afternoon, and it didn’t seem like it was coming back on this morning. The battery on my phone and laptop were nearing zero. One of these days, I ought to go ahead and invest in solar chargers for my devices, at least. But the enforced disconnections were actually kind of nice. Sometimes.

Today, I should probably go into town and charge them up again. See if I could get information on when things might come back on.

Maybe go ahead and respond to one of the many emails Zee had sent asking if I’d gotten in touch with Wes yet. Although, “No. Stop bugging me” was probably not the verbiage I ought to use when I did that.

It had only been two weeks since she sent me the info.

And okay, fine, that was two weeks after Wes and I went our separate ways.

A month that felt simultaneously like five minutes and three years.

I had no idea what, if anything, that meant. Zee would probably tell me it meant I was a big chicken and I needed to just call the man already. Part of me wished I’d told her to send him my info. Then, if he wanted to reach out, he could. Then again, knowing Wes? He wouldn’t. He’d want it to be my choice. My decision.

It was both charming and infuriating.

Why couldn’t God just send me an email with clear, step-by-step instructions?

I sighed and headed back up the beach to my cottage. I knew what I needed to do. Had known for at least a week. But I’d wanted that extra week to be sure, because I wasn’t convinced God had the right idea here. I didn’t want to get in touch with Wes. I wanted to bury whatever feelings I had for him until they got tired of being ignored and went away completely.

On the porch, I used the towel hanging on the rail to dry my feet and get off as much of the sand as I could, then I went inside, the screen door slapping against the frame as it closed behind me.

I crossed the open space that served as living, dining, and kitchen area and went into the bedroom. I hadn’t made the bed today. Normally, that was the first thing I did when I got up. I paused and flipped the blankets back up and smoothed them. My gaze landed on my nightstand—on the photo of Luca and me, wrapped in an embrace on the beach under a full moon. I traced a finger over his face, my heart aching.

He wasn’t coming back.

And no matter how much I might try to convince myself otherwise, Luca would’ve liked Wes. I could see the two of them being friends. More than that, Luca wouldn’t want me to languish in grief, alone forever. Maybe it wasn’t something we’d talked about—because who did that? Not two young people in love, that was for sure. But as I’d prayed about reaching out to Wes, my certainty had grown.

I just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

But today felt like a good day to be brave.

I got canvas sneakers out of my closet and slipped them on, then hooked a finger through the loop on the top of a woven backpack that hung on one of the hooks on the door. I went back out and gathered my laptop, its power cord, the charging cord for my phone, and my cell. I dumped them into the backpack and slung the straps over my shoulders as I headed back out the front door.

I skipped down the two steps of the porch and reached for the handlebars of my bike. I straddled the seat and pushed off, wobbling slightly as I made my way over the sand to the road that would take me into town.

I loved the feel of the wind on my face and in my hair as I biked. Every time I did this, I wondered why I didn’t do it more often. Although, I also knew that answer. I liked being home, alone, too. I didn’t need people around me every day. I could probably ride to town and back without stopping to see people.

Hmm. That would serve as exercise, too. Not that I suffered from a lot of sitting idle. I walked on the beach. I swam. Still, mixing it up was never wrong.

After the first two miles, I started to see more houses. Most of the residents on our side of the island liked being closer to shops. I could understand that, to a degree. But they also missed out on the solitude.

I waved to familiar faces as I passed them. Then, closer to town, I had to pay more attention to scooters and the occasional car. Plus increased foot traffic. Finally, I reached the main square and stopped. I parked my bike in the rack to the side of the little fountain that gurgled cheerily.

“Sunny! You’re coming out of your cave?”

“Marcus. Hi. Power’s out.”

He nodded. “Heard that. You should be back up this afternoon, I imagine. George was working on the lines.”

“You hear what happened?” It didn’t matter, but sometimes it amused me to know what it was this time.

Marcus shook his head.

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