Crazy for Loving You A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy - Pippa Grant Page 0,88
people person is a skill. And you’re not faking your way through taking care of Remy.”
Oh, god, he has no idea. Do I love the little guy? With all my heart. But can I do this? I honest to god don’t know. I’m going to fuck him up so bad. “I am. I’m totally faking it.”
“That kid adores you. Babies see through fake.”
“But he’s so easy. It’s not me. It’s him. I’m not looking for pity here. I have a good life. There are seven and a half billion people on earth, and I have more than all but like a thousand of them. But I’m not a good person. My friend Emily? She helps minimize the appearance of scar tissue on people who need it. Cam runs a foundation that funds scholarships for kids and so much more. Luna’s a freaking charity goddess and an earth savior to boot. Her boyfriend Big Dick Beck saves innocent dogs. And what do I do? I tell Carbs ’n Coffee to put everyone’s bill on my tab some random day. That’s—that’s—”
“Incredibly thoughtful.”
“So small compared to what I could do.” My chest is warming even as I have to stop myself from banging my head against the nearest bookcase, because it’s not enough.
“It’s not small to make someone’s day. And getting up to the counter to order a burger and finding out—”
I suck in a breath, and he freezes.
I didn’t say burgers. I said donuts.
“You did that at Beach Burgers,” he says quietly. “The day we inherited Remy.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, and I hope I’m talking to his bad ear.
No such luck though.
“Never saw a tip jar so full as it was that night.” His voice is a quiet, soothing rumble. “There’s a ripple effect. You do something nice for someone, they’re inspired to do something nice for someone else. You didn’t just buy a few hundred burgers, Daisy. You reminded a few hundred people of the power of joy.”
“I was buying happier feelings,” I blurt. “The funeral—it was awful. No one was sad they were gone. I didn’t do it for the people getting free burgers. I did it to make myself feel better.”
“You did it for both.”
“Does it really count as a random act of kindness if I’m doing it so someone misses me when I’m gone?”
“Who knew it was you?”
I mumble an answer, lower this time.
“Little louder for the good ear, Daisy.” He grips my shoulders firmer and turns me around. I want to bury my head over Remy, but I make myself meet his gaze.
“I said, no one. I mean, Tiana and Alessandro know, and the manager at Beach Burgers, but he also knows I won’t do it again if he lets it slip that it’s me, and his staff makes such good money on those days when I—I mean, I got a free burger out of it myself, and—”
“Why are you minimizing your impact in the world?”
“Because it’s not about them. It’s about making me feel good. And that’s just as selfish and stupid as my grandmother diving into a pile of cash in her version of an adult ball pit room in her fortress. I’m a horrible, awful, selfish asshole who only wants to have fun.”
He gapes at me like I’ve just sprouted some of my mom’s artwork out of my ears. Like he’s seeing me for the first time.
Like it all makes sense now.
I’m an alien in a human body, incapable of this love thing people speak of.
“Have you had so little love in your life that you don’t know how valuable you are? And I’m not talking about your bank account, Daisy. I’m talking about this.”
His hand settles high on my breast, next to Remy’s little head, as close as he can get to my heart.
“I don’t have one of those,” I tell him. “I can’t. I’m a Carter. We get them traded in for mechanical banks when we’re born.”
He doesn’t roll his eyes or grit his teeth, which is almost worse.
Instead, he cups my head. Smooths my hair back. Steps closer. “You could make yourself feel good in so many other ways. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. But you choose to do it with random acts of kindness. And taking care of a baby that isn’t yours. And making the world a better place. How often do you get drunk? Really drunk? Because I’ve been here close to a month, and I haven’t seen it. Haven’t flown in any men from Europe or Australia to scratch an