Only Forever With A Billionaire (Only Us Billionaire Romance Book 3)

by Ellie Hall

  Charlotte raced to the barn where she found Norm.

  “You’re looking in fine fettle. I see Doris’s herbal tincture helped.” He tilted his head, taking a better look at she caught her breath. “Mmm. Or not.”

  “I am feeling much better from the cold. Thank you, Norm. It worked wonders. But can you please bring me to the airport?”

  “Leaving so soon?”

  Charlotte quickly explained that it was her scheduled departure time but not why she was suddenly frantic.

  Without asking any more questions, Norm led her to his truck. It was about as rusty as Wyatt’s. They rambled down the road in silence until finally, Norm said, “He took off, didn’t he?”

  Charlotte answered with a soft, “Mmmhmm.”

  The older man let out an irritated sigh. “Never could stick around when the going got tough. I thought for sure he would’ve for you. Then again, the way you two were together I didn’t foresee too many rough patches in your future.”

  Charlotte spent the next half hour outlining all the ways in which that wasn’t true.

  “Well, by the sound of it, you’ve given up too.”

  Something twisted inside her at his words, making her feel low.

  “I can tell you this, you only fail if you give up. In other words, you’re sure to succeed if you stick together. Get my meaning?”

  Tears brimmed in Charlotte’s eyes. But it was too late.

  Norm pulled up to the private jet. She preferred to fly the way regular people did, but Wyatt had insisted and arranged it ahead of time. She was a bit early for the scheduled departure. The closer she was to getting home to Birdie, the better.

  Charlotte reached across the bench seat and gave Norm a hug. “Thank you for everything. You’re a good man.”

  “I’m an old man. What reason do you have to listen to the likes of me?” His eyes shone.

  Sydney came to mind. Norm had that same gentle manner. “I have at least one.”

  He nodded and waved as she lowered from the truck and a porter grabbed her luggage.

  Charlotte buckled into her seat once on the plane and took a few deep breaths. She just had to get back to Birdie and get everything straightened out with her good-for-nothing ex. There was no way he’d go after their daughter so he could receive child support in order to pay off his debt or fund his gambling. No way. Her anger fueled her as the plane taxied down the runway. It energized her as the plane lifted off. However, when the jet was finally in flight, an empty feeling took its place.

  Wyatt had left.

  He didn’t say goodbye.

  Whatever they had was over.

  She sunk into the seat and cried.

  Chapter 24

  Wyatt

  Wyatt drove until the truck almost ran out of gas. He pulled off at a station and when he got out to refill the tank, the salty scent of a sea breeze met his nose. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going. He just needed to get away.

  Charlotte was leaving and there was nothing he could do to make her stay. She had a life in England and he had the ranch. She had her daughter. He had his horses. She had her reasons and so did he. Right?

  It was doomed before it had even started. He should’ve known better. He shouldn’t have crossed the line he’d created for himself surrounding women and more importantly, he should’ve stayed away from his best friend’s sister. He’d fallen for her hard and at that moment he couldn’t get up. Never mind that his ankle was killing him.

  Back in the truck, he continued to the coastline, parked, and plunked himself down in the sand. He didn’t want to think, not about how much he cared about Charlotte or how he’d failed at showing that to her because he took off like a coward. He just didn’t want to feel what he knew was coming, what always did in the face of loss. Like the waves repeatedly crashing to shore, it showed up. It always did.

  A crushing devastation came over him. It was a feeling he was desperate to get away from; he was drowning and the terrible feeling pummeled him, held him under. He feared he’d never get up, never breathe again.

  Wyatt wasn’t sure how long he sat there in the sand, sitting with the feeling because he knew he deserved it that time. Charlotte was good, kind. He’d messed everything up.

  When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he blinked his eyes a few times. The sun would be setting soon.

  The phone buzzed again. It was Will. He braced himself for what he deserved.

  Instead, his best friend’s cheerful voice came from the other end, “How was the concert last night, mate?”

  Wyatt mustered little more than a grunt and then the entire story poured out of him in one long confession. When he finally fell silent, he feared Will would somehow transport himself to whatever beach he sat on and slug him or worse.

  “I have two things to say to that.” Will’s tone was flat.

  Wyatt braced himself because the words that were coming would be worse than a blow to the nose.

  “I set you up at the Wedding Eve party because I knew you and Charlotte would be perfect together. Come on, mate. I sent you on an errand to get apple rose pastries? I haven’t changed that much. Listen, you have my blessing.”

  Wyatt squinted his eyes even though the sun hovered just over the horizon. “What?”

  “You heard me. I had this feeling and so I did my best to play matchmaker.”

  “Wow.” Wyatt was shocked into silence.

  Will continued, “Now, you’d better get up off your bloody backside and go after her or else I’ll—”

  Even though Wyatt and Will were well matched if they were to actually fight, it would never come to that. He didn’t hear the rest of what his friend said because he scrambled to his feet and rushed to the truck. It wasn’t because he feared Will’s retribution, but because the water receded along with the feeling of dread. His grandfather and father had been alone. He didn’t have to be. He loved Charlotte and love was always worth it.

  He would somehow get her back.

  Chapter 25

  Charlotte

  Charlotte cried for nearly the entire flight back to London. When the plane landed, it was shortly after dawn with the time difference. Her eyes were dry. She had an important matter to attend to.

  She contacted her lawyer and got the first appointment of the day. It was as though they were expecting her. She explained everything she knew about Montgomery, showing them the emails and letters.

  Her lawyer said, “Interestingly, just yesterday, we’d anonymously received this information along with notification that you’d be by to discuss the matter. This is big so I made sure to be available.”

  Her mouth fell open. “It must’ve been Wyatt.” Her voice came out a whisper. It was possible he saw the name of the law firm when he’d been at her house. There’d been a mess of paperwork on the table.

  The lawyer assured her that her ex-husband had no recourse, but to be safe, they’d follow the proper legal channels to protect Birdie as well as Charlotte’s assets.

  The meeting ran well over an hour and as she exited, a man wearing a Yankee’s baseball cap crossed from the other side of the street. She picked up her pace, an equal mixture of irritated and afraid that he’d spotted her. She’d barely been back in the city.

  “Charlotte,” the man called. His voice was gravelly, but there was desperation in it too.

  She doubled her pace. A traffic light turned, barring her from crossing the street. He caught up with her. Panic bubbled up, but she had to get back to meet Birdie in less than two hours. Clementine’s mother would drop her off at the townhouse around lunchtime.

  The older man, her father, rushed up to her. “Wait, please. I just want to talk.” He caught his breath.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” she spat.

  Fabian caught her eyes. They were the same as Will’s. Her stomach flipped.

  He held up a hand, still catching his breath. “I know I’ve done everything wrong. Everything. And I don’t expect your fo
rgiveness, but I’d like to have an hour of your time to explain.” Wrinkles lined his forehead and his lips pressed together in earnest.

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “The clock is ticking.”

  Fabian led Charlotte to a café a few doors down from where they’d met on the sidewalk.

  He ordered a tea for them both and took it just the way she liked it.

  They settled at a small table by the window.

  “As I said, I did everything wrong. Do I regret it? Yes. Can I undo it? No. Did I sneak into Will’s wedding like a common thief?” He nodded. “Would I do it again?” His head tipped up and down.

  Charlotte opened her mouth to tell him what a horrible person he was, but he cut across her.

  “I missed yours and Will’s entire lives. In fact, I only learned of your existence when his wedding announcement made the papers. To tell you the truth, I’ve always been chasing my lucky break. But that day in the church, when that man—the big cowboy type who looked at you like he’d destroy anything that dared to upset you—threatened me, when the guards hauled me off, when I saw your brother commit to the woman he obviously loves, something broke inside of me. I realized I’d been going about it all wrong. I’d already had my lucky break when I met your mother and I ruined it. I’ve ruined my life, my relationships, my credibility.” He fell silent.

  Charlotte’s mouth couldn’t open any further so she closed it. Her thoughts were a disorganized combination of shock, disbelief, disorientation, confusion, and relief. Maybe he wasn’t an awful man. Perhaps he’d made mistakes, but if he could acknowledge them and try to make it better, perhaps someday she could forgive him.

  “Am I sorry?” he said, searching her face. “Yes. Very sorry.”

  She let the words hang between them, reach her, and wrap around her heart.

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I will do whatever I can to help you try.”

  She nodded.

  “We can start slow. As it is, I don’t have a lot going on. I just spent the last decade baking in the sun, trying to run numbers, and failing. I wrote you this letter.” He hefted a thick envelope and passed it to her.

  “Looks more like a book.”

  He lifted and lowered his shoulder. “It tells a short story about the years leading up to when I met your mother. I hope you’ll read it and, in a few months—it might take a while—if you’ll let me, I’d like to give you another one to explain where I’ve been all these years. Then, if that goes okay, a third letter discussing what I plan to do with what’s left of my life and how I’d like you to be a part of it. Just as a father.”

  It was touching. She was moved but nothing related to that came out of her mouth. “You like to write?”

  “Well, I always wanted to be a writer. Can’t say I’m very good, but I hope you enjoy the story. I tried to stick to the highlights and keep it honest. I’m well known for spinning a yarn.” He stopped just short of laughing.

  She realized then he had a faint Irish accent.

  “Do you like to read or write?” he asked as though eager to know anything about her.

  She nodded and they spent the next few minutes chatting as they found solid ground after a very unexpected meeting. She glanced at her watch. “I should get going, but I have two questions. Why did you have your lawyer send me a letter, threatening seizure of my inheritance.” Anger flowed through her veins.

  He hung his head then shook it. “What can I say. I like to tell stories. Those were fake. I was desperate. I’m sorry. Burn them. Destroy them. I don’t expect you to forget how I wronged you, but please know I regret it. You’ll understand better when you read this.” He tapped the envelope.

  She nodded and wouldn’t cast judgment until she knew the full story. “Why were you following me that day at the museum, and so on?” She shivered, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

  “It was a coincidence we were at the museum at the same time, but when I spotted that big lug of a man, I guess fatherly instinct kicked in. I wanted to make sure he treated you right.”

  Sadness came over her then.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Although she appreciated her father’s honesty, she wasn’t telling the truth. She thanked him, said a quick goodbye, and that she’d read the story. She wasn’t sure what to make of the encounter other than it was a step in a better direction.

  Once out on the street, she drew a deep breath and rushed home. She’d have time to think about everything regarding Montgomery and Fabian later. She just wanted to see Birdie.

  After settling in and showering, a car honked from outside. Charlotte hurried out to meet her daughter.

  Birdie’s face was slightly pink from the week in the sun at camp, but she was glowing, beaming and brimming with stories about swimming in the lake, songs around the campfire, and her favorite, riding the ponies.

  Charlotte gave her daughter undivided attention as they spent the rest of the afternoon in each other’s company. That evening, the doorbell rang and Charlotte’s stomach jolted. But she knew it wouldn’t be Wyatt. She’d hardly let herself think about him. She’d have plenty of time to do that later as well. Maybe for the rest of her life. She’d have to talk to her father about regret. Maybe he could help after all.

  A scratching sound came from the other side of the door along with a distinct sniff, sniff.

  She called Birdie over, who opened the door wide and called, “Release the hounds.”

  Jennifer, who’d been looking after the dogs laughed as Charlotte explained their tradition of saying that when they let the dogs out, rather than in. They’d both missed Roofus and Rupert so after Jennifer said goodbye, mother daughter, and the two dogs played in the living room, which was teeming with stuff: papers, knickknacks, an ironing board, a multitude of oil paintings leaning on the wall. Just about every inch was covered, making a game of fetch, a slightly dangerous endeavor. But the old dogs were slow and preferred belly rubs anyway.

  When it was time to tuck Birdie into bed, Charlotte read her the usual bedtime story about Duke, the dog, and his adventures.

  Yawning, Birdie said, “Mummy, I told you all about my time at camp, but I didn’t hear about your trip with the cowboy. Did you ride any horses?”

  Charlotte’s chin quivered.

  “Did you not have any fun? Next time, you can come to camp with me.”

  “Oh, darling. I did have fun. I guess I’m just sad it’s over, but the good part is we’re home together.” She wrapped her arms around her little girl.

  “But my fun time isn’t over. Clementine and I are going to play pony camp on Saturday if she can come over.”

  Charlotte had discouraged visitors because the house was such a mess with all of Sydney’s things. Maybe that could change. “Of course, you can.”

  “The cowboy can come over on Saturday and you guys can play too.”

  She smiled. “I wish it were that easy. Remember, he lives in America.”

  “You can use Uncle Will’s jet and visit anytime.”

  Charlotte stroked Birdie’s cheek and kissed her forehead. “I like all your ideas and how you always have a solution. We’ll see.”

  They said goodnight and she softly closed the door behind her.

  It had been a long day and Charlotte longed for sleep. She plugged in her phone to charge and had a message from her brother saying to call him. It was urgent. She pressed the button to dial. He answered on the first ring and proceeded to talk for a full two minutes, explaining that it had been his plan to get her and Wyatt together. “It’s time for you to move on, to be happy.”

  “I’m plenty happy,” she said around a sniffle.

  “Says my sister who’s crying.”

  “I’m getting over a cold.” But Wyatt’s efforts to take care of her brought on more tears.

  “You need to process your grief over the people and relationships in your life and move on.”

  She described her morning visit with the lawyer
and everything going on with Montgomery and then the encounter with their father. “See? I am dealing with things.”

  “I’m proud of you, sis. But by moving on with your life I mean moving on with Wyatt.”

  She protested, outlining all the reasons there wasn’t room for him in her life.

  “You don’t realize he’s exactly what you need.”

  The words had claws. They dug in, lashed at her, tore her up, and wouldn’t let go. Will was right, but everything about their relationship was wrong. It wouldn’t work.

  Rupert whined at the door to be let out. “Hey, it’s late. I should go.”

  “Promise me you’ll think about what I said.”

  She probably would think about it all night.

  As Rupert went outside, she softly said, “Release the hounds.” She thought of her daughter, sleeping snugly in bed. She always looked on the bright side and had a solution, even if some of the ideas were a little outrageous. What would Birdie do? She’d figure out a way to keep the fun alive.

  When Rupert came in, she turned to the mess of Sydney’s old things that spilled into every room in the house. Wyatt’s comment about asking what his granddad would do came to mind. But instead of crying at the memory, she asked herself what would Sydney do?

  The words came to her almost as clear as if he’d been speaking to her. Release the past. It was after eight p.m. and she was tired, but that didn’t stop her from diving in and starting right then and there. She plowed through the kitchen, designating things to save, recycle, or donate. She moved into the living room and then the hall. She tore through the house, releasing the past, letting go. It wasn’t easy. So many things held memories but ones she’d always have, treasure, even without the tea cozy that was torn because the dog thought it was a tug toy.