The Billionaire Boss Next Door

The woman I would have moved to New Orleans for.

Instead, she gave up everything she’d ever known, the city she loved, and living close to the only family she’s ever had to move to New York and chase dreams with me.

After taking over Turner Properties, I took it upon myself, as one of my first official acts, to hire an in-house designer for all of our new projects and updates alike.

She’s sassy and unfiltered and my favorite human being on the entire planet Earth.

Hopefully, the one I’ll get to introduce as mine for the rest of my days.

We stand in front of the vending machine as Greer makes her selection, and I wait nervously to see how well I really know her.

Cap gives the nod from about ten feet away, taking out his phone to be ready.

I’m just fucking hoping he gets pictures of something other than an epic fail.

Greer clucks and hums and hems over her decision for so much time that I can feel a bead of sweat run down my spine.

I’m pretty sure I lose moments off my life, but that’s okay. I’ll want to go first anyway.

The idea of living without her at this point is…inconceivable.

She finally pushes the button for A7, and everything inside me locks up with anticipation.

This is really happening.

Thank God for Greer’s mostly predictable love for Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles.

When the bag drops into the tray and she bends over to take it, I glance over my shoulder at Cap to see he’s giving me a thumbs-up.

A lot of planning—and if I’m honest, a lot of money—went into today, but I couldn’t imagine anything more appropriate.

Greer isn’t a fancy, hoity-toity kind of gal. She doesn’t put on airs, and she sure as shit wouldn’t want me to get down on one knee at some stuffy restaurant that serves caviar and outrageously priced champagne.

Basically, it was either this or somehow get us onto Ellen’s Game of Games. Considering Ellen won’t be filming any more episodes for another eight months, this is the option that stuck.

Because fuck me, I’m not waiting another eight months.

When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you don’t want to waste any more time. You want to dive headfirst and connect yourself to that person in every way possible.

And that’s exactly what I’m prepared to do. Right now. In front of this vending machine while Greer’s best friend gets ready to give birth to her daughter down the hall.

Don’t worry, the expectant parents approved it with flying colors.

They couldn’t think of anything better on the day their daughter was born than giving her “aunt” the beginning of a family of her own.

Greer gives me a weird look when she turns around—I know my face must be a ravaged mess—but I ignore it just long enough to prompt her to open the bag now.

“Can I have one?” I ask nicely, pouting my lip when she seems as if she might hold out.

“All right. Fine,” she agrees, plucking the bag open and reaching inside.

Only, as Cap and I know, the only thing she’ll find in there is a ring.

Her eyebrows pull together as she fishes it out and pulls it from the bag, but the moment her eyes meet diamond, she freezes completely.

I take the opportunity to get down on one knee.

Greer

Holy mother of mercy.

Holy Jesus Christmas in a choir.

Holy elves dancing around Santa and the North Pole and a whole bunch of other shit I can’t possibly focus on right now.

The diamond sparkles in the offensive fluorescent hospital lighting, and my knees threaten to give out as Trent sinks to one of his in front of me.

“Greer, I need to ask you a question.”

My nod is the definition of dumb. Up and down with no actual bearing on time or space or life, I watch as Trent takes the ring from my hands and starts to slide it onto my finger.

My heart is racing and my jaw feels numb, and to be honest, I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack.

But I wouldn’t interrupt this for anything in the whole fucking world.

At least we’re in a hospital. They’ll be able to get to work on me quickly.

“I love you.”

I try to return the sentiment, but I’m pretty sure it comes out sounding like “I mumble schmoo.”

Thankfully, he seems to understand anyway.

“I had a tiny idea of how perfect you were for me early in our relationship, but I’m wholly certain about it now. No one makes me laugh like you. No one calls my shit like you. And no one…no one has ever loved me like you do.”

It’s all I can do not to start sobbing right here.

“You’ve been there for me and my mom, and you’ve made me and my family yours without hesitation. I know it won’t always be easy…but it will always be right.”