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Home / Romance / The Secret Billionaire I Married / Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

All Chapters of The Secret Billionaire I Married: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

50 Chapters

31

December brought snow. The first snowfall came on a Tuesday morning. I woke up to white fields and silent trees. The world looked new. Clean. Like someone had wiped the slate clean.Liam was already awake. He stood by the window, coffee in hand, watching the flakes fall."It is beautiful," I said."It is cold.""That too."He turned to look at me. "Marcus called. He wants to come for Christmas.""Everyone wants to come for Christmas.""Then we say yes.""The farmhouse is not that big.""We will make it work."I sat up. The sheets were cold. The floor was colder. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and walked to the window.The snow was piling up on the porch. The trees were heavy with it. The sky was grey and soft."Christmas," I said. "I have not celebrated Christmas since my mother died.""What did you do?""Nothing. I worked. I slept. I pretended it was just another day."Liam put his arm around me. "Not this year.""This year, we have a house full of people.""This year, we ha

32

January came in cold and grey. The snow melted into slush. The roads turned to ice. The farmhouse felt emptier after the holidays. Marcus went back to Atlanta. Samuel and Jenna returned to Seattle. Phillip flew to Denver. Rebecca went to Portland. June took Sofia home to Miami.Anna stayed. Victoria stayed. Catherine stayed. Doris went back to Maine but promised to visit in the spring.Liam and I stood on the porch, watching Anna scrape ice off her car."She is leaving too?" I asked."Just for a few weeks. She has to check on her students.""She could have stayed.""She will be back."I pulled my coat tighter. The wind cut through the fabric.Liam put his arm around me. "It is quiet.""Too quiet.""We will get used to it.""I do not want to get used to it."He kissed my temple. "Then we fill the house with other things. Noise. Laughter. Life.""Like what?""Like a dog."I turned to look at him. "A dog?""The farmhouse needs one. For protection. For company. For something to love.""Yo

33

April turned into May. The garden came back to life. Tomatoes and peppers and herbs I still could not name. Maple dug up three of the plants before I fenced her out. She sat on the other side of the fence and whined. I did not feel sorry for her.Liam spent less time on the phone. The sale of Sterling Industries was finished. The money was gone. Donated to shelters and clinics and families who had nothing. He said it felt like taking a bath after years of being dirty."You look different," I said one morning."Different how?""Clean."He laughed. "That is the first time anyone has described me that way.""You know what I mean.""I know."He kissed my forehead and went to fix the porch step. It had been broken since winter. He said he would fix it in the spring. Spring was here.Anna came back from Oregon in the second week of May. She brought more books. The shelves were full. She started stacking them on the floor."You have a problem," I said."I have a solution. The problem is empt

34

June melted into July. The heat was thick and heavy. The garden grew wild. The tomatoes burst on the vines. The peppers turned red and yellow and orange. Maple dug up three more plants before I gave up and let her have a corner of the garden for herself. She sat in her dirt patch like a queen.Liam fixed the porch step. Then the railing. Then the shutter that banged against the house every time the wind blew. He said the farmhouse was trying to fall apart. I said it was just old. He said old things needed more work. I said he was old. He threw a pillow at me.Anna went back to Oregon for the summer. Her students were out of school. She said she needed a break. I said she needed a life. She said she had a life. She just forgot to live it sometimes.Victoria stayed. The bookstore in Chicago could wait. The cat was fine. She said she was not ready to leave. I did not argue.Catherine stayed too. She baked bread every morning. The kitchen always smelled like yeast and butter. She started

35

August arrived with a heatwave. The kind of heat that made you sweat just sitting still. The garden wilted despite daily watering. Maple dug a hole under the porch and slept there all afternoon. Liam said she had the right idea. I spent most of my time inside. The farmhouse stayed cooler than the yard. The windows were open. The curtains barely moved. Catherine baked less. The kitchen was too hot. She switched to cold foods. Salads. Sandwiches. Lemonade by the pitcher. Victoria read on the couch. A stack of books from Anna's collection. She finished one a day. I wrote. The novel was almost done. The final chapters were coming together. My mother's house. The contract. The secrets. The truth. It felt like closing a door. Liam came in from outside. His shirt was soaked with sweat. "The garden is dying," he said. "It will recover." "The tomatoes are turning brown." "Then we buy tomatoes from the store." He looked at me like I had suggested something illegal. "Buy tomatoes?"

36

September came with cooler winds and golden light. The leaves on the trees turned orange and red and yellow. The garden gave its last harvest. Tomatoes. Peppers. Herbs I still could not name. Liam said we did well for our first year. I said the weeds did better. He said that was always the case. Maple loved the fall. She chased falling leaves. She rolled in piles I had just raked. She came inside covered in sticks and dirt and happiness. Catherine bought her a bed. A large circular thing with soft edges. Maple ignored it. She slept on the couch instead. Victoria went back to Chicago for good. The bookstore needed her. The cat missed her. She promised to visit for Christmas. "I will come back," she said at the door. "You better." She hugged me. Then Anna. Then Catherine. Then Liam. Then Maple. "Do not forget us," I said. "Impossible." She drove away. The gravel crunched under her tires. Anna left the next week. Oregon was calling. Her students were back. She said she would re

37

December brought snow again. The first snowfall came on a Friday. I woke up to white fields and silent trees. The world looked new. Clean. Like someone had wiped the slate clean. Maple ran outside before I could stop her. She disappeared into the snow. Only her tail was visible, wagging like a flag. Liam stood by the window. Coffee in hand. Hair messy. "She is going to freeze," I said. "She is a dog. She has fur." "Fur is not a coat." "She will come inside when she is cold." I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and walked to the window. The snow was still falling. The sky was grey and soft. "Christmas is three weeks away," I said. "Everyone is coming." "The farmhouse will be full." "The farmhouse will be chaos." I leaned into him. "Good chaos." "The best kind." Doris came downstairs. She wore a sweater that was three sizes too big. Her hair was grey and wild. "Has anyone seen my glasses?" she asked. "On your head," Catherine said from the kitchen. Doris reached up.

38

January arrived with grey skies and bitter cold. The snow turned to ice. The roads were dangerous. No one left the farmhouse for days. Liam chopped wood. Catherine baked. Doris read by the fire. Maple slept. Marmalade the cat stared out the window at birds she could not catch. I wrote. The novel was finished. Every chapter. Every word. Every secret finally on paper. Liam found me staring at the screen one afternoon. "You are done," he said. "I am done." "That is good." "It feels strange." "What does?" "Not having it in my head anymore. The story. The characters. The truth." He sat next to me. "It is still in your head. It is just on paper too." I closed the laptop. "Now what?" "Now you publish." "I am scared." "Of what?" "People reading it. Judging it. Hating it." He took my hand. "People will read it. Some will judge it. Some will hate it. Some will love it." "That is not comforting." "It is the truth." I leaned into him. "I am not ready." "Then wait." "How long?"

39

May arrived with soft rains and warm winds. The garden exploded with green. Catherine spent hours outside, talking to her plants, pulling weeds, chasing off rabbits. Doris sat on the porch and watched. She said Catherine was doing enough work for both of them.Liam built a swing. Wooden. Sturdy. Big enough for two. He hung it from the old oak tree in the backyard. The same tree where my mother had buried the box. The same tree where I had climbed as a child.I sat on the swing and looked at the house. The white walls. The blue shutters. The red door."It looks different," Liam said."Different how?""Lived in.""It is lived in.""Now it looks like it."He sat next to me. The swing creaked under our weight."We need to paint the shutters," I said."In the summer.""The porch needs fixing.""In the summer.""The garden needs weeding.""That is a Catherine probl

40

June arrived with heat and humidity. The kind of weather that made you want to sit still and do nothing. Catherine said the garden loved it. Doris said the garden was welcome to it. Maple dug a hole under the porch and refused to come out. Marmalade sat on the porch railing and watched the world with lazy eyes.I sat on the swing. The oak tree gave shade. A breeze moved through the leaves. I had my laptop open. The novel was published. The Secret Billionaire I Married. My name on the cover. My story inside.Liam walked out with two glasses of lemonade."You are staring at the screen again," he said."I am reading reviews.""Good ones?""Some. Bad ones too.""Stop reading the bad ones.""I cannot help it."He sat next to me. Handed me a glass. "What do they say?""One said the pacing was too slow. Another said the ending was rushed. A third said the main character was unlikeable.""That

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