Page 115 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“Which involves?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll figure it out.”

The idea of a day without a schedule makes my palms sweat. “I should probably—”

“Nope.” Frankie reaches over and plucks my phone from the counter. “No phones. No work. Just us and whatever random shit we feel like doing.”

“Frankie—”

“When’s the last time you had a day off? And I mean a real day off, not a working vacation where you answer emails by the pool.”

I can’t remember. Literally cannot recall the last time I went twenty-four hours without checking email.

“Exactly.” She tucks my phone into the pocket of my shirt. “So today, we’re going to be aggressively normal.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have no idea. But it’s going to be fun.”

Three hours later, we’re in Central Park and I’m learning thataggressively normalinvolves a lot of activities I’ve never considered.

Like feeding ducks.

“This is ridiculous,” I say, watching Frankie throw breadcrumbs at a particularly feisty mallard.

“It’s not ridiculous. It’s therapeutic.” She hands me a piece of bread. “Throw it.”

“I’m not throwing bread at ducks.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a grown man.”

“So? Grown men can’t enjoy simple pleasures?”

The mallard waddles closer, eyeing me expectantly.

“He’s judging me.”

“He’s hungry. Throw the bread, Hayes.”

I toss the bread half heartedly. It lands about two feet away. The duck gives me what I swear is a look of disappointment before waddling over to retrieve it.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“This is insane.”

“This is living.” Frankie bumps my shoulder. “When’s the last time you did something pointless just because it made you happy?”

I don’t answer because I can’t. Everything I do has a purpose. Every decision calculated for maximum efficiency.

“That’s what I thought.”

We walk toward the playground. There are families everywhere—kids on swings, parents looking exhausted and happy. The kind of chaos I usually avoid.

“Man, I love watching kids,” Frankie says, settling onto a bench. “They have no filter. No shame. Just pure, unprocessed emotion.”

I watch a little girl throw herself down a slide with complete abandon, shrieking with joy.