Page 61 of Billionaire Hunt

He tried to touch me again and I fought against him as he tried to bring me into his arms. “Stop fighting me. Stop fighting me. You’re going to hurt yourself. Just let me hold you. Let me hold you.”

The tears wouldn’t stop flowing now. I tried to pull away from him again and hurt my hand in the process. I cried out and he gently cupped it.

“See what you made me do?” I said between sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything. I’m sorry.”

“That’s a lot to be sorry for,” I managed to say between breaths.

“I did this to us and I’m sorry. I was wrong to ask you to be my surrogate. I ruined things between us. And I just want a chance---”

“A second chance to hurt me?”

“A second chance to be your friend again,” he squeezed my functional hand. “I miss you. I miss you so much.”

I miss you was a far second place from I love you, but it was a start.

“Maybe just a little part of you misses me too?”

I shrugged. “Maybe a very microscopic piece of me misses you too, but I’m not staying here...I can’t.”

“Just for the night...come on...” He extended his hand and I stared at it. Take it, Misha, I said to myself. It’s not where you want to be, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.

And so I took his hand and he pulled me close, about to kiss me...I almost let him, when I caught myself and placed a finger against his warm lips.

“Just friends...that’s all Erik...”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my eyes stopped him.

“I understand,” he straightened and slowly pulled away from me. “It’s your call and I respect that.”

“Thanks. Now, I’m tired...lead the way.”

He didn’t let go of my hand and I prayed that I could handle just being friends. Could you really be just friends with the man you loved...even if he didn’t love you back? Unfortunately, I was going to find out.

* * *

“How are you doing?” Grandma asked as she pushed the grocery cart through the store for me. I was going to physical therapy for my hand and had had several follow-up procedures done as well.

“Fine. Just fine.”

“How’s physical therapy going?”

I groaned. “My physical therapist is a pushy, bossy, results-driven maniac,” I sighed. “He’s great.”

Grandma laughed. “Glad to hear it.”

“You know, Grandma, you don’t have to come with me everywhere.”

“Well, with that bad hand of yours, you need someone around to help out.”

“My hand is getting better.”

“Not better enough. How’s your friend doing?”

“Friend?” I asked as we went down the cereal aisle. I felt old. There were so many brands that I didn’t recognize. What happened to plain old Captain Crunch or Fruit Loops? I thought to myself.

“That friend of yours, your man friend.”