Page 31 of Billionaire's Desire
“The whole time you thought I was your driver?”
“Hell yes. I did not understand why you were yelling the entire time.”
“I thought you were trying to rob me.”
“Rob you?” Now it is his turn to double up in laughter. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know, Max. A random man jumps in the backseat of my car and orders me to drive. What else would I have thought?”
“You may have a point.”
Tears are running down my face.
“This is the funniest thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Well, me too Maggie. Me too.”
As I set the table for his dinner, I can’t help but wish Poppy was here so I could relay the story to her. I am sure she would have found this as hilarious as we both did.
Chapter 7
Maggie
WhenThursdayarrives,ittakes me a lot longer to get out of bed than usual. I can barely lift my head from the pillow.
Today marks exactly four years since the accident. Today marks the day my life completely changed. This was the day that Poppy lost her life.
I want to gasp, to scream, to do something, but I can’t. Instead, I let the grief consume me.
I drag myself out of bed and take a longer shower than necessary.
I wish Hilda was around because I could really use one of her hugs just about now, but she spent the night with Zach so it’s just me and my broken heart.
I am sluggish and although I just woke up, I cannot bring myself to perk up. Normally, I would argue that I am an early bird, always active in the morning, but this day makes a liar out of me.
They say that grief is the truest human emotion and today I feel it tenfold.
I miss her every single day.
I have been dreading this day for weeks but I underestimated how heavy my heart would be, especially now that I couldn’t even visit her gravesite with flowers.
My chest hurts. My head hurts.
I have too many feelings trying to be contained in my 5 foot 8 inches body.
I drag myself to the kitchen to receive the orders for breakfast then head on over to the VIP section of the yacht.
A quick knock at Max’s door opens up to reveal a disheveled man. He is nothing like the well-rested, chirper Max I have seen for the last couple of days.
“Morning Maggie,” he greets me glumly.
“Good morning, Max.”
He moves out of the way to let me in.
“What does the chef have for me today?”
I take up my professional stance and start parroting the options back to him as it was given to me.
