Page 50 of The Baker & Her Billionaire

It wasn't that long ago that I was telling myself how good life was. So much for that!

Burger-boy was back. He’d escalated. Put me in the hospital. Could’ve been Alex. Or Amy!

I caught a sob in my throat.

No! I wouldnotlet that rat bastard win this round!

I sighed. But he had.

My shop was, by all reports, irrecoverable. I had an offer from Leighton to move it, but Davie was saying what's the point?

And I can't move my body! I’m not mobile. If anything happened to Davie, Jerry, or Leighton, what kind of defense could I provide?

So much for being a kickboxing master. Not much good to me or anyone else with two broken limbs.

I can’t even wash myself, for god’s sake!

Is there nothing I can control?

When Jerry threatened, so to speak, to have Leighton come around, I just lost it. How could Leighton stand to be around mewhen nothing was going right? When I was a calamity waiting to happen? When villains stalked me and endangered not just my life, but the lives of people I loved like Amy, Alex, my family, and … my boyfriend?

With my body—my life—so broken, I couldn't see him!

Wallowing in self-pity for a while wasn’t going to change much. Or anything. I’d always, always, been able to take care of myself. Well, Davie helped when I was little, sure. But as kids, he and I learned self-sufficiency. We had to.

I felt my body sink more heavily into my bed. I fought off tears.

I willnotcry about this!

I buried my face in a pillow and just let go. My ribs hurt. But not so badly that it stopped my anguish.

I sobbed myself to sleep.

When I woke, it was from hearing the second ping of my text message app.

Leighton!

There was a YouTube thumbnail and link. A song. Richard Marx,Right Here Waiting For You.

Another ping. A message from him.“Remember the first slow we danced to? This was it. And I am—right here. Waiting for you.”

Noooooo! Leighton, baby, don’t make me cry!

I missed him. And I did remember the song. He’d put on an oldies slow dance mix.

I hit Play. The scene in his living room rushed back to mind. I remembered swaying against my baby’s lean strong body. Warmly cheek to cheek. Holding me close, but running his hand up and down my back, oh so slowly.

I remembered. God, that was so romantic! I had melted right into his energy.

The song ended. I sighed.

The boys weren’t home. The nurse had come and gone. I got up, carefully, and into my wheelchair. I used the bathroom, and back in the chair to the kitchen. Jerry had left a bowl filled with fruit smoothie for me that morning, “Easier to eat from a bowl,” he’d said.

I rolled back to my room.

So sad. I was never sad. Depression wasn’t a feeling I’d ever known.

Well, I knew it now.

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