Page 88 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Frankie.” His voice sounds thin. Fragile. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“Good. Great. How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” He pauses, and I hear him breathing carefully. “But I’m okay.”

He’s lying. I can tell by the way he’s choosing his words too carefully.

“Charles.”

“I’m fine, Frankie. Really. Just ... miss having you around.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. I miss him too. Miss everything about that ridiculous, wonderful routine we built together.

“I miss you too.”

“Listen, I want to invite you to a little gathering this weekend. Fourth of July party at my house. Nothing fancy, just family and friends. I’d love it if you came.”

That’s the Winters Estate. Hayes’s parents.

Which means Hayes will be there. One would assume, anyway.

My heart does this stupid fluttering thing that I immediately squash.

“I don’t know . . .”

“Please, Frankie. It would mean a lot to me.”

There’s something in his voice. Something that sounds like he needs this more than he’s letting on.

“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful. I’ll text you the details.”

After he hangs up, I stare at my phone.

“Well?” Tessa asks.

“I’m going to a party.”

“What kind of party?”

I drain the rest of my wine. “The kind where I’ll probably make a complete ass of myself.”

“Sounds perfect.” She grins. “What are you going to wear?”

“A paper bag over my head?”

“Frankie ...” She chuckles and tosses a throw pillow at me. “I’m thinking blue. Brings out your eyes.”

I groan and sink deeper into the couch. In three days, I’ll be in the same room as Hayes Winters again. The man who kissed me like I was oxygen and he was drowning, then left like I was nothing.

This is either going to be the best decision I’ve made in months, or the worst.

Knowing my track record, probably the worst.

But Charles asked. And when Charles asks for something, I can’t say no.