Only a Date with a Billionaire (The Only Us Billionaire Romance Series Book 5)

by Ellie Hall

  With only a week until Christmas, at last, he spotted her on the stairs in their building. Catching up to her, he said, “Hey, can we talk?” He hated the way the question sounded—like things were over, hopeless.

  She lifted and lowered a shoulder as they got on the elevator. It dinged for her floor and he followed her to the door. Hesitating before going in. She said, “There’s not much to talk about. I almost killed you.” Her face fell into her hands. “I’m so sorry.” She sobbed.

  He brought her close, trying to comfort her. Then taking the key from her hand, he opened the door to her flat, and guided her to the couch.

  As they passed the mirror, she said, “You were wrong. I am bad luck.”

  “No, Sophie. It was my responsibility to tell you about my allergy.”

  She shook her head as tears streamed down her face.

  His chest ached at seeing her so distressed.

  “I never told you why my grandmother and I were estranged.”

  “No. Nothing except for those adorable aprons she sent you for your birthday,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. He’d gone there to explain, to talk, to end things, but she was beyond distraught.

  “When I was a baby, my father got very ill and was bedbound. My mother had to administer his medication around the clock even in the middle of the night.” She sniffled.

  “Mom was exhausted because I was less than a year old and from taking care of him at the same time. One night, she accidentally mixed up the medicine. He didn’t wake up the next morning. He died, Teagh.” She started crying anew. “I’ve never told anyone. Not even my best friend.”

  He held her. Just held her.

  “My grandmother was livid that they hadn’t hired a night nurse and over the mistake my mother made.” She swallowed hard. “That was it. The end of my family. Then I almost killed you. What if I hadn’t found the EpiPen in time? I’d never be able to live with myself.” She pulled away from him.

  His heart dipped in his chest.

  “I’m not just bad luck, I’m cursed, Teagh.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I can’t do this. The risk is too great.”

  He winced. She’d beat him to the punch.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated as though that would soften the blow. “You should go.” She curled up in the corner of the couch and didn’t meet his eyes.

  Teagh was frozen. His heart actually broke. It was like he couldn’t breathe all over again. He was in shock. He’d wanted to talk to her and taper things off but didn’t expect it to hurt so badly. He’d experienced pain—bruises, cuts, fractures, concussions, but nothing hurt as much as his heart did then.

  “You’re right. We should end this.” The words were hollow. A sucker punch in the gut.

  The world moved in slow motion as he got up from the couch and went to the door, closing it softly behind him.

  The next days were a blur of business, phone calls, and stitching his attention together.

  Teagh was torn between the conversation he’d had with Sophie and his responsibilities what he knew he had to do.

  Spare her his weakness.

  ***

  Late one night, when leaving the gym, the exterior light over the Honey and Lavender sign illuminated a letter taped to the door, explaining that she had to close the bakery.

  He should’ve felt better about their breaking things off; it was the right thing, but her life had also shattered. Maybe it had been in pieces for years, especially after what she told him about her father.

  She’d been carrying that burden her entire life and thought she was repeating history. She hadn’t almost killed him. He hated himself for not telling her the truth about his allergy. It wasn’t like he was hiding it, but it hadn’t occurred to him to tell her. He’d been flying high and not thinking about his weakness.

  She’d saved him. But Teagh couldn’t bear to think of it, of how he’d hurt her, compounding her pain about her father.

  He poured himself into his work, trying not to think about Sophie because he’d actually been the one to break them and he had no idea how to fix it.

  While Tony was cleaning the mats, he paused and leaned on the broom. “Mr. Coyle, pardon me for speaking boldly, but I recognize a disturbance in you.”

  Teagh’s eyebrows shot up. Never had the guy spoken so boldly. In fact, usually, he said few words, mostly because Teagh got the sense he was terrified of the gym owner. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “When I was a teenager, I was in a terrible car accident. The girl I’d had a crush on was in the vehicle and didn’t make it. After that, I just kind of gave up. I already wasn’t on the right path, but this put me off any sort of good, leading me to where you found me in that alley.”

  “Well, I’m glad you found your way back.”

  “Thanks to you and Miss Sophie...and God. She sent me to her church and I had a moment. I guess you could say I saw the light, strange as that sounds.”

  All Teagh saw was darkness. He went to his office but didn’t turn on the light. He just sat there, feeling empty, destroyed, and he’d known they had to end things. She’d just been the one to rip off the Band-Aid. But it was to protect her from himself.

  Teagh was afraid to get married because he didn’t want to get divorced again. He hadn’t been enough for Teresa. He didn’t want to put Sophie through the inevitable, not because she was bad luck or cursed. No, she was perfect in every way. But because he was a failure.

  It was just past dusk. The lights in the alley came on and shone through the window in Teagh’s office, illuminating three belts he’d won out of the four boxing organizations. He’d failed on that last one. Then he’d retired. He’d quit a winner. But was actually a loser. He should’ve gone for the fourth. At the time, he’d been in a bad place with Teresa. He had excuses that had made sense at the time. Looking back, he should’ve have given up.

  Teagh locked up for the night. Instead of going to his lonely flat, he walked along the edge of the park, longing for something.

  Sophie? No, he couldn’t have her.

  Nature? He’d be going home soon.

  Connection? Across the street, the church stood tall and welcoming. He went inside.

  He lost track of time while praying. When he finally slumped back in the pew, he looked up at the altar and all that had been given up for his salvation. For forgiveness.

  For a moment, the stained-glass windows glowed golden, distracting him. It must’ve been a truck or other vehicle going by, but when he turned back, he recalled what Tony had said about seeing the light.

  Sophie was a light in his life. How selfish it was of him to swear off marriage because he was afraid of getting divorced again. She wasn’t Teresa and she wasn’t her mother. Accidents happened. The wrong people got together. But Sophie was the right person.

  Teagh could step into the ring, move to a new country, start a business, but couldn’t muster up the courage to marry the woman he loved because of one bad thing that happened in the past? Could he really give up that easily?

  He didn’t know what to do. He needed to call his coach. To push Teagh through his training, he’d always tell him that he was his biggest competition. He’d say, “‘Fire is where you’re made.’” He was in the fire with Sophie...

  Things were hard, but could he become the man he was always meant to be? Her man?

  His coach also had said, “You feel the burning and keep going, you’re in flames and you keep pushing, but when it starts to consume you—stay there, that’s where the inferno transforms you. Then like a phoenix rising from ashes you’re reborn...that is when you no longer need me. That is when my work is done. That is when you’ve won.”

  Could he change?

  He had to soften his exterior. Allow himself to love and be loved. To let her in. It was a close call when he’d had anaphylaxis, but that didn’t mean it was over.

  He was the guy, when down in the ring, who always got back up.

&nb
sp; Had he made his opponent love? If so, he’d drop his gloves and let love in. Because more than anything he had to let love win this round.

  Chapter 15

  Sophie

  Sophie only left her grandmother’s apartment to go to the bakery and try to enjoy the last days of the bakery being open.

  She’d announced that it was closing. Her customers were distraught and even offered to donate money to keep it afloat. Although incredibly generous, it wouldn’t help.

  Her engagement had been pulled out from under her, her relationship with Teagh was over, and now her business was done.

  The words she’d spoken to him were dramatic, but it was true. She was cursed. She’d had so much to lose and she’d lost it all.

  She slumped to the kitchen to warm up a frozen meal for dinner even though she wasn’t all that hungry.

  She didn’t have any clean silverware and was rooting through a drawer to see if there was a disposable fork, but something jammed at the back, preventing it from pulling out farther.

  When her grandmother had passed, everything had been left as she’d had it. The potholders hanging on the inside of the cabinet, the candlesticks half-burned in the gold candelabra on the mantel, and the umbrella in the stand by the door.

  Sophie was ordinarily tidy, but in recent days had let things go and didn’t have the energy to clean up much more than herself to go to work.

  Dislodging whatever was causing the drawer to stick took a moment, but when she pulled it open, a white metal box sat in the bottom. The top was hinged and written across it in calligraphy was the word recipes.

  She rifled through the cards, all in pristine condition, unlike her recipe books with smears of batter and blobs of chocolate.

  She flipped past sections for cookies, cakes, pies, desserts... Not one of them was for a savory dish. Grandma did have a sweet tooth and was a noted baker herself.

  Sophie took out one card titled Apple Crisp Shortbread Squares in elegant cursive. Reading the ingredients and method next, it was the exact same recipe she’d recently used at the bakery during her apple extravaganza.

  She thought she’d left the past and let everything that had happened with Hayden go when she’d baked with all those apples. But after the scare with Teagh and the peanut butter on top of the memory of her father’s death, she didn’t trust herself. She never had.

  She was feeling so fragile she no longer dared have a relationship after two failed ones—breaking up with Hayden probably spared his life, knowing the bad luck she’d inherited from her mother.

  Her phone jingled. She’d been ignoring it. Even Teagh had stopped trying to reach her. Though she did receive a nice message from his mother. She’d said, “I saw the way Teagh looked at you while we were visiting. It was the same look Clyde had given me when we’d first met. It was then that I knew he was in love. He didn’t know it. But I did. Just like how I know my son...”

  As painful as it was, she’d relistened to the voicemail several times, but didn’t return the call. The weight of guilt, of having almost killed Teagh, was too heavy a burden.

  Her phone kept ringing only this time it was her own mother, who’d be on a plane before long if Sophie didn’t pick up. The last thing she wanted was Lewellen to show up in the city. For one thing, she’d proved true her mother’s fears. She wasn’t going to make it. She was failing and would have to return home.

  She answered on what was likely the last ring before it went to voicemail.

  “Hey, sweetie. Why haven’t you been answering? I’ve been worried sick.”

  Sophie had words of reassurance on her tongue, but instead, she blurted, “Why didn’t you ever tell me that Grandma gave you that recipe for the Apple Crisp Shortbread Squares?”

  Her mother’s pause was long enough for her to wonder if she was still on the line. Then a horn honking in the background indicated that she was still there.

  “Well, I guess I had a bitter taste in my mouth,” Lewellen said.

  “But they’re sweet. Apples, sugar, cinnamon...” Sophie started listing the ingredients.

  “No, because she blamed me for your father’s death.”

  “Well—” Sophie wasn’t sure how to answer.

  Her mother cut across her. “Everyone did. Even me.” Her mother’s voice cracked.

  “We’ve never really talked about it. I’d like to hear about my father.” She hadn’t thought about saying as much but as soon as it was out, her pulse quickened.

  There was garbled noise in the background, but Sophie could hear her mother letting out a breath. “I’m going to get this over with first and I’m going to do it this way because, well...” Again, noise filtered through the line.

  “Are you there?” She wasn’t sure if she’d understood.

  “Yes, I’m here. Sophie, just after you were born, your father told me his diagnosis. Later on, I found out he’d learned of the leukemia when I was still pregnant. He didn’t want to upset me. It was awful, Soph. Just awful. But anyway, I wanted to take care of him and of you. I loved you both so much, but I was tired. I should’ve been asking more questions, for help...”

  Sophie assumed this to mean her mother felt guilty for not checking the prescription more carefully before she gave it to him.

  “One night, I gave him his medicine. He was on heavy pain relievers at that point. The next day he didn’t wake up.”

  She knew all of this, but having her mother say it to her tore her to shreds. Both women were crying—Sophie in gut-wrenching sobs and her mother in her refined, southern way.

  “Mom,” Sophie managed to say. “I know. I overheard you talking to someone on the phone when I was ten. I heard you say it and... I lost it.”

  Her mother gasped. “Oh, sweetie. Was that when you wouldn’t go to summer camp?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Sweetie, the thing is, you don’t know. You didn’t hear the whole story. I must’ve been on the phone with the lawyer.”

  Lewellen paused and drew a breath. “You see, there was a manufacturing and bottling error. A big legal case was opened by several families. The wrong medication was distributed. Of course, they do tests and whatnot, but it was an oversight. I didn’t give him the wrong medicine. I was given the wrong medicine at the pharmacy.” She was quiet a moment. “But as it turns out, it was confirmed that wasn’t what caused his death. It was his time.”

  Lewellen’s voice cracked. “I believe that he knew it was too much for me to take care of both of you. He left us so you would have my full attention and care.”

  Sophie’s phone dropped from her hand and she cried and cried.

  Her mother called her name a few more times. She could hear the racket in the background, but soon the phone fell silent.

  A while later and after Sophie’s tears had slowed to a sniffle, the old-fashioned intercom in the apartment buzzed. She startled. She hadn’t heard it since she’d been given a tour of the building when she’d moved in. She’d never had any guests except Teagh.

  Mr. Spinigotti’s voice crackled. “Miss Johannsson, you have a guest.”

  It couldn’t have been Teagh. He’d just knock as he’d done several times since their breakup. She ignored it as the sound continued to blister the quiet.

  Mr. Spinigotti’s garbled voice sounded again. “She has a pecan pie and if it’s anything like your biscotti, I’m going to help myself to a slice if you don’t allow her up.”

  Sophie sat up. Pecan pie? There was only one recipe Sophie had never quite mastered. Her mother’s pecan pie. That was because Lewellen did it from memory and refused to write the recipe down or let Sophie take notes—much like Teagh and his scones.

  She said it came out better when done from the heart. Sophie agreed, but she needed a reference for consistency. The pie was never exactly the same when her mother made it, but it was always delicious.

  She pressed the speak button on the wall-mounted device. “Mom?”

  “Yes, sweetie. Let me come up.”
r />   Her mouth fell into a perfect O.

  Minutes later, Lewellen was bursting through the door with the pie in one hand and luggage at her side.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Hello to you too.” She looked around. “Sophie Lynette Johannsson, what has happened in here?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Busy my foot. You’ve been wallowing. Come, sit down and tell me all about it.”

  “First tell me what you’re doing here, unannounced.”

  “Can’t a mother visit her daughter in the big city?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess.”

  “You weren’t responding. I sensed something was amiss. I prayed about it. Worried me to tears. Then a young man called.”

  Sophie tilted her head in question. “Teagh?”

  “I love the accent. He wanted me to check on you.”

  “Oh. Well, as you can see, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not. Is this about your father because I had a feeling you’d known.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?” Sophie asked.

  Her shoulders lifted and lowered almost imperceptibly. “Too much pain. I didn’t want to burden you with it. But now you know the whole truth.”

  Ironic, since Sophie had thought that she was cursed. “Did Grandma still blame you after you found out what had really happened?”

  “Maybe. He was her only son. You can imagine how much it destroyed her to have him gone. Also, we had an argument. It was all muddled up six ways from Sunday, but I was upset that she wasn’t able to forgive me for what she thought was my negligence. Then I couldn’t forgive her for not believing me.”

  Sophie nodded then shook her head, shocked.

  “But not only did I come here to check on you, but I told you about how your father died over the phone. I know, not the most delicate way, but I’m ready to tell you all about how he’d lived in person, from the heart. He was a wonderful man. In fact, your grandmother must have some albums around here somewhere.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Lewellen and Sophie looked at photos and ate pecan pie.