Love Redesigned (Lakefront Billionaires #1) by Lauren Asher

Unlike the usual oppressive loneliness that hits me whenever I turn into my driveway, my body buzzes with anticipation as I park my car in the garage and walk inside the brightly lit house.

Neta: Really?



I’m welcomed by the sound of Dahlia messing around on the piano in the distance. Unlike Nico, she lacks the proper skill and training to do anything but massacre her way through “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

My spine tingles as I walk through the long hall leading to the formal sitting room. Never have I felt this excited at the end of a workday, and I pause to process why.

No painful silence. No dreadful loneliness. Nothing but a strong sense of contentedness as I think of the person waiting for me.

You’re getting attached, the cautionary voice speaks up.

I’m pretty sure it’s far more serious than that.

It’s love.

Something is shifting inside me—that much was made clear when I returned to carpentry after almost a decade avoiding it—and it has everything to do with Dahlia.

When she hits the last note, I enter the room.

“Dinner’s here.”

She startles, banging her fingers against the keys. “You scared me.”

“Did you have fun looking around?”

“Tons. Check out what I found next to your prized The Little Prince collection.” She stands and reveals the Second Best trophy she gave me.

Damn. I was so focused on keeping Dahlia away from my bedroom that I forgot about the incriminating trophy.

“I’m flattered you kept it after all this time.” She rubs at an invisible stain.

“It’s a reminder of what failure feels like.” The words come out at lightning speed.

“So you keep it beside your most prized possessions? Interesting location choice given how big your house is.”

I blink slowly.

She smirks. “I know you bombed our physics final on purpose.”

“You have no proof.”

“Physics was your strongest subject and my weakest. There was no way I could have beat you any other way.”

I exercise my right to remain silent.

“Why did you do it?” she asks.

The hum of the heater starting up echoes around the house.

Her brows scrunch. “Did you do it because you felt bad for me?”

“No,” I blurt out.

“Then, why?”

“Because I liked you.”

Her eyes widen. “Since when?”

“I’m not sure when it started,” I lie.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Risk-averse, remember?”

She gives her head a good shake, although it doesn’t wipe the disbelief from her face. “If I hadn’t kissed you during that Stanford Halloween party, would you have made a move?”

“I had no idea what I wanted back then.”

Her brows crinkle with confusion. “But you liked me.”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you push me away when your dad died?”

“A few misguided reasons, but mainly because I was too proud to deal with my grief in the way I should have.”

Her mouth drops open.

“I took on way too much all at once, thinking if I fixed the struggling business or helped my mom through her depression, my own pain would go away.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “And you couldn’t do that if I was distracting you.”

“I should have never called you that.”

She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’m sorry for not seeing your actions for what they were.”

I rapidly blink. “What?”

I’m the one who hurt her.

I’m the one who drove her into the arms of another man, who ended up breaking her heart.

And I’m the one who took ten years to apologize, solely because I was a coward who didn’t want to face my fears, instead choosing to let my insecurities about my worth dictate my actions.

“Despite being hurt by all the things you said, I should have put my feelings aside and stepped up to be the bigger person. Because even though you pushed me away, I was the one who made a conscious choice to let it stay that way.”

My lungs ache. “None of this was your fault.”

“The same can be said about you.”

“Let’s agree to put the past behind us?”

“Deal.”

I wrap my arm around her before steering us toward the kitchen. She sits in my usual corner seat on the island while I fill two glasses with water.

“What did you get?” She reaches for the nondescript paper bag.

“Sushi.”

“Yes!” She grabs the top container, only for me to swap it for the other one.

“What?”

“That one is mine.”

Her brows furrow.

“It has cream cheese.”

The cute way her nose scrunches has me smiling to myself.

She rips the lid off the container. “Shrimp tempura?”

“Here.” I pass her a large container filled with spicy mayo.

“You’re annoyingly perfect at predicting my every move.”

I toss her a pair of chopsticks, and she rips them apart before plucking her first sushi roll off the tray.

I don’t dig into my food right away, which earns me another speculative glance.