Page 59 of Her Filthy Cold Billionaire Boss

“She loved you, you know,” Peggy said. “She told me that.”

I felt the air leave my lungs. “She said that?”

“She said a lot of things,” Peggy replied. “But that was the important one.”

I stood in the middle of my office, surrounded by the sad remains of my life, and tried to remember the last time anyone had said something like that to me.

“I love her, too,” I said, before I could think better of it. “I’m sorry. I’m so-”

“Don’t,” she cut me off. “Don’t apologize to me. You want forgiveness, you ask her.”

“I don’t think she’ll take my call.”

She laughed again, rough and bright. “Then show up. That’s what men do, right? They make grand gestures.”

I winced. “I’m not good at that.”

“Doesn’t matter. You want her back, you figure it out.”

I closed my eyes and pictured Eden, stubborn and beautiful, the way she’d looked at me after I told her the truth, like she could see right through to my bones.

“Thank you,” I said, and meant it.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Peggy said. “I’m still deciding if you deserve her.”

The line clicked and silence followed.

I stared at the phone, heart racing. I’d never felt less in control, less sure of myself, but there was something else there too; a kind of hope, raw and ugly and impossible.

Maybe I didn’t deserve forgiveness. Maybe I didn’t deserve her.

But I was going to try anyway.

I picked up the hair tie from my desk, rolled it between my fingers, and wondered if she was thinking about me, too.

I doubted it. But I hoped.

God, I hoped.

My mind ran in circles, ideas surfacing and leaving as better ones came along. I went to the window and looked out over the grounds, the roses blooming wild in the dusk, the world washed clean by rain.

The next move was mine, and I had no intention of screwing up again.

I was going to make her mine, no matter what it took.

Chapter Fifteen

Eden

I woke up knowing it was a day to keep the curtains closed. Even the light hurt. Every cell in my body felt like it was bruised, the skin a little too tight, the blood in my head a little too thick. I stayed horizontal, pretending that if I lay still long enough, the world would slow to match the ache in my chest.

But eventually my phone lit up, blue glow slicing through the gloom, and the name “Gram” on the screen like a hug.

Come over,the text read.I made that coffee cake you like. Don’t make me freeze it, Edie.

I stared at the words so long they started to swim. For a split second, I wanted to pretend I was still a person who had family dinners, who showed up to things, who could walk into her grandmother’s house without tears coming. But that wasn’t me. Not anymore.

With an exhale, I closed my eyes, counted backward from fifty, and willed myself out of bed. One foot in front of the other, autopilot through the shower, the world a tunnel of steam and shampoo and skin that didn’t quite feel like mine.