The Billionaire's Christmas Son - Leslie North Page 0,52

of that. In those pictures, I saw the man I want to be. A man who’s satisfied with his family. A man who’s committed to protecting them but not overwhelmed with the responsibility. A man who can enjoy his days, just because the people he loves are nearby.

The other day after you drove away, my grandmother retired to her room for the day. She was distraught over the fact that I hadn’t told her about you or Scott. I’ve been trying so hard to protect everyone, taking so much responsibility for things that aren’t mine to control, and it’s because I’ve been terrified.

Every day of my life since my parents died, I’ve been terrified of living a full life. But I’m tired of never experiencing the joys of life. Especially the joy I can share with you and Scott. I’ll try my best to let go of the need to control everything, but I will always want to protect you and Scott.

I love you.

I know it’s too soon to say it. And I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it in return or to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. I don’t expect you to call or text even, if that’s your wish. I just thought you needed to know the truth about how I feel. Whether you’re with me or not, I want you to always be safe and happy.

If you need anything—and I mean anything—just ask, and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.

All my love,

Jonas

Rachel held the letter to her heart, an ache spreading through her chest at the simple vulnerability of it. The stiffness of the envelope made her look inside, where she discovered two photographs. One of them was a copy of an older photo. A sob escaped her throat as she gazed down at the older photo. A picture of Jonas, at about Scott’s age, looking just like her son. And a man who looked just like Jonas, but older, held him in his arms, grinning at the camera. A dark-haired woman stood nearby, leaning in close—his parents.

The other was a clumsy selfie he’d snapped of the three of them. Scott was in Jonas’s arms, his head thrown back, laughing. Rachel was laughing, too, but trying to smile for the camera. Jonas wore a half-smile that spoke volumes about how happy he was. To a photographer, the photo was off-center, and Scott was laughing more than he was posing. But none of those things mattered, except for the fact that the image radiated happiness.

She traced their faces in the photo, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Beautiful,” she murmured to herself.

The rush of love overwhelmed her, slamming into her like an avalanche. Love. It described everything she’d been feeling but failed to admit. It was the answer she’d been searching for.

Jonas had made it clear he was standing back, honoring her wishes and letting her decide their future. Something her mother and her ex never let her do. She’d been so busy defending herself against the past—and, frankly, parts of the present—that she hadn’t noticed her future trying to find a way in.

The email confirmation of delivery assured Jonas that Rachel had received his letter. The temptation was to call, but he’d promised he wouldn’t do it. And he’d honor that promise no matter how difficult it was. Focusing on work, he went through the motions, doing anything and everything not to watch his phone—waiting for it to ring.

Jonas sat at a computer in the meeting room behind the front desk, checking on VIP records. This was, technically, a task he should delegate, but it required total focus and was therefore perfect for him. His mind wandered away from the words on the screen and back to Rachel at every opportunity.

And now he was hearing her voice.

He clapped both hands to his face and rubbed hard. Hearing things—that was beyond anything he’d ever expected. He should just go home before he made a costly mistake.

Jonas stood, knees cracking, and made his way out toward the front reception area. “I’ll be at home,” he said softly to Marcia, one of his staff members, so they’d know where to find him. “If you need anything—”

“Thank you so much,” a woman who sounded like Rachel spoke from the other end of the desk. “The room will be perfect, I’m sure.” This was no sound-alike—it was Rachel.

His heart stopped. His breath stopped. He blinked—once, twice.

“Dada,” Scott squealed when he spotted Jonas, reaching for him.

Jonas moved out from