Page 107 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“Taking you to eat overpriced burgers?”

“No.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. Soft. Quick. “Listening.”

My skin burns where her lips touched.

“So,” she says, settling back in her seat. “Brooklyn?”

“Brooklyn.”

I restart the GPS, and this time it actually knows where it’s going.

Twenty minutes later, we’re sitting in a tiny restaurant called Elevated Comfort, sharing a plate of mac and cheese spring rolls and trying not to stare at each other.

“This is incredible,” Frankie says around a bite of what might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

“Worth the detour?”

“Absolutely.”

The restaurant’s packed and loud, nothing like the places I usually take women. But watching Frankie light up over deep-fried comfort food makes me realize I’ve been doing everything wrong for years.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

“Shoot.”

“Why now? Why tonight?”

I set down my fork. “Because I’ve been miserable without you.”

“That’s not a reason to date someone.”

“It’s not the only reason.”

“What are the other reasons?”

Of course she’s not making this easy.

“Because you make me laugh. Because you called my mother on her bullshit at that party and somehow made her like you anyway. Because you held Charles’s hand when he was dying and didn’t let him go alone.”

Her eyes get suspiciously bright.

“Because,” I continue, “I spent two months trying to forget you and failing spectacularly. Because every woman I meet is boring compared to you. Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”

“Well that’s . . . inconvenient.”

I laugh despite myself. “Inconvenient?”

“Well, it is. I just got my life back together. I have a business to run, goals to achieve. I can’t afford to get distracted by some emotionally unavailable billionaire with commitment issues.”

“What if I’m not emotionally unavailable anymore?”

“Are you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

She considers this, twirling pasta around her fork. “What about the commitment issues?”

“Working on those too.”