The sizzle of meat on the grill was the only sound that drowned out Harrison Scott’s racing heartbeat as he flipped burgers in his weathered backyard. His daughter Emma’s end of school party wasn’t exactly what he’d planned for this Saturday. A dozen 11-year-olds splashing in a kitty pool and his own mortgage payment overdue. But seeing her smile made every sacrifice worth it.

Dad, when will the food be ready? Emma called, water dripping from her strawberry blonde pigtails as she bounced on her toes. Lee’s mom is here and she brought someone with her. Harrison glanced up from the grill, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm. At 34, he felt closer to 50 most days. Single fatherhood and working two jobs had etched premature lines around his eyes, but he never complained.

Not when Emma was his entire world. Five more minutes, kiddo,” he replied, expertly flipping another patty. “Tell everyone to start washing hands.” The modest backyard of his rented bungalow was decorated with streamers and balloons, the best he could do on a tight budget. His grill, a handme-down from a neighbor, was the one luxury he maintained, having taught himself to cook after Emma’s mother walked out 7 years ago. “Mr.

Scott,” a gentle voice pulled him from his thoughts. I hope we’re not intruding. Harrison turned and nearly dropped his spatula. Standing before him was a woman who seemed entirely out of place in his humble backyard. She wore a simple sundress, but something about her, perhaps the quiet confidence or the subtle gleam of her watch, suggested she wasn’t from the workingclass neighborhood.

Not at all, he managed, suddenly conscious of his faded jeans and the world’s okayest dad apron Emma had given him last Father’s Day. I’m Harrison, Emma’s dad. Brooke Fairchild, she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. Lee’s mom asked if I could join. I hope that’s all right. I’m new in town and don’t know many people yet. Harrison wiped his hand on a dish towel before shaking hers.

Any friend of the Parkers is welcome here, especially if they don’t mind my amateur grilling. Actually, Brook’s eyes lit up as she surveyed his setup. Those burgers smell incredible. Harrison laughed, the sound surprising even himself. It had been a while since he genuinely laughed around a stranger. Charcoal and desperation, my secret ingredients. Her smile widened.

Mind if I watch the master at work? For the next hour, Harrison found himself in the strange position of explaining his burger techniques to Brooke. She listened intently, asking questions that revealed both curiosity and intelligence. Unlike the usual pity he received from parents who knew his situation, her interest seemed genuine.

“So, you hand form each patty?” she asked, accepting the paper plate he offered with a perfectly cooked burger. Consistency is overrated, he replied, adding a slice of tomato to her burger. Each one having a different shape means they cook differently. Some people get the crispy edges, some get the juicier center.

Deliberate imperfection, Brooke mused, taking a bite, her eyes closed momentarily. That is possibly the best burger I’ve ever had. Harrison felt an unexpected warmth in his chest. That’s generous. I’m sure you’ve had much fancier. Fancier? Yes, she agreed, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Better. Not even close.

As the party continued, Harrison found himself stealing glances at Brooke. She wasn’t just beautiful, though she certainly was, with her chestnut hair falling in loose waves and eyes that crinkled when she laughed. What struck him most was how she engaged with the children, kneeling down to their level despite her clearly expensive clothes, listening to their stories with genuine interest.

When Emma approached, introducing herself with the direct confidence Harrison had always encouraged. Brooke didn’t talk down to her. “Dad makes the best burgers in the world,” Emma announced. “I was just telling him that.” Brooke agreed. “Has he always been this good of a cook?” Emma’s face grew serious. He learned when mom left, he said McDonald’s wasn’t a food group.

Harrison winced, but Brooke didn’t miss a beat. He was absolutely right about that. The afternoon wore on, and as parents began collecting their children, Harrison noticed that Brooke made no move to leave. She helped clean up, gathering paper plates and cups with the efficiency of someone used to taking initiative. You don’t have to do that, he protested as she tied off a garbage bag. I know, she said simply. But I want to.

It was a lovely party. When only Lee remained, her mother arrived looking apologetic. I’m so sorry for being late, Harrison. The hospital called me in for an emergency. Thank you for having Lee. Anytime, Kate. You know Emma loves having her over. Kate’s eyes darted between Harrison and Brooke with barely concealed curiosity.

I see you two have met. Small world it is. Brooke agreed, though something in her tone suggested there was more to the story. After Kate and Lee left, Emma disappeared inside to watch a movie, leaving Harrison and Brooke alone in the yard.

The sun was beginning to set, casting everything in a warm golden glow. “So Harrison began suddenly awkward.” “How do you know, Kate?” Brooke hesitated. “We went to college together years ago. I reached out when I moved back to the area. What brings you back? Work? She said, then seemed to reconsider, and a desire for something more authentic than what I had in New York.

Harrison nodded, understanding the search for authenticity more than she might realize. Well, Burlington isn’t exactly the cultural capital of Vermont, but it has its charms. I’m discovering that, Brook said, her gaze lingering on him in a way that made Harrison both uncomfortable and intrigued.

Would it be too forward to ask for your number in case I need burger grilling advice? Harrison laughed surprised by her directness. I think I can manage that. Though I should warn you, my culinary expertise stops at about comfort food level. Comfort is underrated, she said, pulling out her phone. After they exchanged numbers, Brooke thanked him again for the party and left. Harrison watched her go, confused by the mix of emotions swirling inside him.

It had been years since he’d felt even a flicker of interest in someone. Emma had been his sole focus, and between working as a mechanic during the week and picking up construction jobs on weekends, he barely had time to breathe, let alone date. Yet, there was something about Brooke Fairchild that lingered in his thoughts as he tucked Emma into bed that night. “I liked Miss Brooke,” Emma said sleepily.

“She didn’t talk to me like I’m a baby.” Harrison smiled, brushing hair from his daughter’s forehead. She seemed nice. “Are you going to marry her?” Emma asked, the question so unexpected that Harrison nearly stumbled backward. “What? No, Emma. I just met her today. That’s not how it works. How does it work then?” Harrison sighed. “It’s complicated, kiddo.

Adults need time to get to know each other.” “And besides, she’s probably just being friendly.” “She kept looking at you when you weren’t looking,” Emma said with the certainty of a pre-teen gossip columnist. “That means something. It means it’s past your bedtime, Harrison replied, kissing her forehead. Good night, troublemaker.

Night, Dad. Love you. Love you more. As Harrison washed dishes later that evening, his phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. Thank you again for today. Your burgers were life-changing. I’d love to return the favor sometime. Dinner, perhaps. Brooke. Harrison stared at the message, a mixture of excitement and apprehension washing over him.

It had been so long since he’d considered his own needs that the idea of dinner with an attractive woman felt almost foreign. But as he looked around his small kitchen at the stack of bills on the counter and the calendar packed with Emma’s activities and his work shifts, reality set in.

What would someone like Brooke Fairchild want with someone like him? And more importantly, what could he possibly offer her? He typed and deleted several responses before settling on. Thanks for the offer. Let me check my schedule with Emma’s babysitter and get back to you. The response came almost immediately. No rush. And if it helps, I’m great with 11year-olds. We could include Emma if that’s easier. The thoughtfulness of the message caught him off guard.

Most women he’d briefly dated after his divorce had viewed Emma as an obstacle. Brook’s willingness to include her spoke volumes. That’s very kind, he responded. Let me talk to her and see what she thinks. The next morning, Harrison mentioned the dinner invitation to Emma over breakfast. Her reaction was predictably enthusiastic. “Yes, can we go, please? Is it a date? Can I wear my new dress?” The questions tumbled out between bites of cereal.

“Slow down,” Harrison laughed. “It’s just dinner.” “And yes, if you want to come, you can.” “I want to come at the beginning,” Emma said thoughtfully. “But then maybe I could have a playd date so you two can talk about boring adult stuff.” Harrison nearly choked on his coffee.

Have you been watching romantic comedies again? Emma shrugged innocently. Maybe, but Dad, you need friends, too. You’re always saying I need to be social, but you only ever talk to Mr. Rodriguez next door and your boss out of the mouths of babes. Harrison couldn’t argue with her logic. Fine. I’ll see if Lee can have you over after dinner. But no matchmaking. Understood.

Understood. Emma agreed with a smile that suggested she had her own plans. Harrison texted Brooke back, agreeing to dinner the following Friday. She suggested a place called Harvest, which Harrison recognized as one of the nicer farm-to-table restaurants downtown. Immediately, he worried about the cost, but before he could suggest an alternative, another text came through.

My treat, I insist. I’m the one who invited you after all. Pride wared with practicality in Harrison’s mind. He rarely allowed others to pay his way, having built his life around self-sufficiency. But the reality was that a dinner at Harvest would blow his food budget for the week. All right, he finally responded. Emma is excited.

She may join us for part of the evening before a playd date. As Friday approached, Harrison found himself unusually anxious. He even splurged on a haircut, something he usually did himself to save money. Emma was beside herself with excitement, laying out outfit options days in advance and pestering him with questions about Brooke. “Is she rich?” “She looks rich. Her watch looked expensive,” Harrison sighed.

Emma, we don’t judge people by how much money they have. “I know,” Emma replied. “But it would be cool if she was rich and nice.” When Friday evening arrived, Harrison wore his only dress shirt, a blue button-down he reserved for job interviews and parent teacher conferences. Emma wore a purple dress with her favorite sneakers.

A compromise between her desire to look fancy and Harrison’s insistence on practicality. They arrived at Harvest a few minutes early. Harrison’s old truck looking conspicuously out of place among the Audi’s and BMWs in the parking lot. He was about to text Brooke when he spotted her waiting outside wearing a simple but elegant black dress that made his mouth go dry. “You made it,” she said, her smile warming him more than the summer evening.

“And Emma, you look beautiful,” Emma beamed. “Thanks. I like your dress, too.” “Dad said, I couldn’t wear heels, but yours are really cool.” Brooke winked at her. “The secret is having a backup pair of flats in your purse. These will be coming off the minute we sit down.” Harrison found himself relaxing slightly. There was something refreshingly honest about Brooke, a lack of pretense, despite her obvious sophistication.

Inside, the hostess led them to a corner table with a view of the restaurant’s garden. Harrison tried not to flinch when he saw the prices on the menu. Brooke must have noticed his discomfort because she leaned over and whispered, “I really meant it about this being my treat. Please order whatever looks good.

” Throughout dinner, Harrison was struck by how easily conversation flowed between them. Brooke asked Emma questions about school and her hobbies, showing genuine interest in her answers. When Emma mentioned Harrison’s second job, Brooke didn’t react with pity, but with admiration. So, you’re a mechanic by day and construction on weekends.

That’s impressive. Harrison shrugged. It’s just what needs to be done. Emma’s worth it. Not everyone would make those sacrifices,” Brookke said quietly. “It says a lot about you.” After dessert, a chocolate cake that Emma declared the best thing ever, Kate arrived to pick Emma up for her sleepover with Lee.

Harrison watched nervously as his daughter left, suddenly aware that he was about to be alone with Brooke. “Your daughter is wonderful,” Brookke said once they were alone. “You’ve done an amazing job with her.” “I’ve tried,” Harrison admitted. “Some days are better than others. Brook’s expression grew more serious. “Can I ask what happened with her mother?” Emma mentioned she left.

Harrison took a sip of water, buying time. This was always the hardest part of getting to know someone new. Lisa and I married young right out of high school. When Emma was four, Lisa decided family life wasn’t what she wanted after all. She moved to California to find herself.

She calls Emma on birthdays and Christmas, but that’s about it. I’m sorry, Brook said, her eyes reflecting genuine empathy. That must have been incredibly hard. It was at first, Harrison acknowledged, but honestly, it was harder when she was still here, but mentally checked out. At least now Emma doesn’t have to feel like she’s not enough everyday.

Brooke reached across the table and briefly touched his hand. “She’s lucky to have you. Many men would have fallen apart.” “Not an option when you have a kid relying on you,” Harrison said simply. What about you? Ever been married? A shadow crossed Brook’s face? No. I came close once, but it turned out he was more interested in what I could do for his career than in me as a person.

Harrison nodded, sensing there was more to the story, but not wanting to push his loss. Brook smiled, the tension easing from her shoulders. What about you? Are you dating anyone now? Harrison laughed. When exactly would I have time to date? Between two jobs and Emma’s schedule, I barely have time to sleep.

“You’re here now,” Brooke pointed out. “I am,” Harrison agreed, meeting her gaze. “And I’m glad.” After dinner, they walked along the waterfront, the lights of the city reflecting on Lake Champlain. The evening air was cool, and Harrison found himself wishing he’d brought a jacket to offer her. As if reading his thoughts, Brooke moved closer, her arm occasionally brushing against his.

So Harrison said finally, “You mentioned you moved back to Burlington for work. What do you do?” Brooke hesitated. “I’m in business development. My company is looking to expand in this region.” “What kind of business?” Harrison asked, curious about her reluctance. “We’re in tech primarily. Software solutions for health care systems.

” Her answer was smooth, but still vague. But honestly, I’d rather not talk about work tonight. It’s refreshing to spend time with someone who doesn’t immediately ask about my job. Harrison could understand wanting a break from work talk. Fair enough. What would you rather discuss? You, she said simply. What makes Harrison Scott happy besides grilling perfect burgers and raising a remarkable daughter? The question caught him off guard.

It had been so long since anyone had asked about his happiness that he had to think. I like working with my hands, he said finally. fixing things. There’s something satisfying about taking something broken and making it work again. I can see that. Brooke nodded. You’re a problem solver. I try to be. What about you? What makes Brooke Fairchild happy? Authenticity, she answered without hesitation. People who are exactly who they appear to be.

No hidden agendas, no performances. It’s rarer than you might think. The conversation continued as they completed a loop around the waterfront park, neither seeming in a hurry to end the evening. Finally, Harrison glanced at his watch and realized it was nearly 11. “I should probably get going,” he said reluctantly. “I promised Emma I’d pick her up by 9:00 tomorrow for her soccer practice.

” “Of course,” Brookke said, though she looked equally disappointed. “Can I walk you to your truck?” The role reversal made Harrison smile. I’d like that. At his truck, an awkward moment hung between them. Harrison hadn’t dated in so long that he wasn’t sure about the protocol.

Should he shake her hand, hug her? The uncertainty must have shown on his face because Brooke solved the dilemma by leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. Thank you for a lovely evening, Harrison. I’d like to see you again if you’re interested. The warmth of her lips lingered on his skin. I’d like that, too. Over the next few weeks, Harrison and Brooke settled into a pattern. They met for coffee when he had a break between jobs.

She joined him and Emma for pizza and movie nights. He even found himself opening up to her about his financial struggles when an unexpected car repair threatened to derail his budget. “It’s just frustrating,” he admitted one evening as they sat on his porch after Emma had gone to bed.

I do everything right, work extra hours, cut every corner, never use credit cards, and still one surprise expense can put me back at square one. Brooke listened without judgment. You’re doing an incredible job, Harrison. Most people would have crumbled under that kind of pressure. Not much choice, he said, though her words warmed him.

Emma deserves stability. So do you, Brookke replied softly. There was something in her tone that made him look at her more closely. In the glow of the porch light, her expression was both tender and troubled. “Harrison, there’s something I need to tell you,” she began just as his phone rang. The caller ID showed Kate’s number. He frowned.

It was nearly 10 at night. “Kate, is everything okay with Emma?” he answered immediately, alert. “Emma’s fine,” Kate assured him quickly. “But I thought you should know there’s a profile of Brooke in tomorrow’s business section. Someone at the paper gave me a heads up. Harrison’s confusion must have been evident in his expression because Brooke was watching him intently.

“Why would there be a profile on Brooke?” he asked. Kate hesitated. “You don’t know who she is, do you, Harrison?” Brooke Fairchild is the CEO of Fair Tech Systems. She’s worth billions. The article is about her plans to build a new headquarters in Burlington. The world seemed to tilt slightly as Harrison processed this information.

He thanked Kate and hung up, turning to Brooke with new eyes. You’re a CEO, he said, the words feeling strange in his mouth. A billionaire, Brooke didn’t deny it. Yes, that’s what I was about to tell you. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? The hurt in his voice was unmistakable. Because people change when they know, she said quietly. Suddenly, I’m not just Brooke anymore.

I’m Brooke Fairchild, billionaire. Everything becomes complicated. People either want something from me or they’re intimidated by me. I just wanted to be seen as a person first. Harrison stood up, needing to move to process.

So, what is this? Some kind of social experiment, slumbing it with the working class to see how the other half lives. No, Brook’s eyes flashed with hurt. How can you think that? I care about you, Harrison and Emma. This is real for me. How can it be real? He demanded. We’re from completely different worlds. You probably spend more on lunch than I make in a week. That doesn’t matter to me,” Brookke insisted, standing to face him. “It matters to me,” Harrison shot back.

“I’ve built my life on self-sufficiency, on not needing handouts or charity. How am I supposed to feel knowing you could solve all my problems with pocket change?” Brook’s face fell. “Is that all you see now, my money?” The question hit him like a physical blow, making him realize how unfair he was being. No, he admitted, deflating slightly. But I need some time to process this.

It’s a lot to take in. I understand, Brook said, though her eyes revealed her pain. For what it’s worth, I was going to tell you tonight. I never meant to mislead you. She gathered her purse and moved toward the door. Harrison didn’t stop her, still too caught up in his own confusion.

As she opened the door, she turned back. The man who grilled burgers for his daughter’s friends. Who works two jobs without complaint. Who makes me laugh until my sides hurt. That’s who I’m falling for. Not someone I want to change or fix. Just you, Harrison. Exactly as you are.

With that, she was gone, leaving Harrison standing alone on his porch. The night air suddenly cooler without her presence. The next morning, the Burlington Free Press featured a large profile of Brooke Fairchild, complete with a professional photograph that showed her in a tailored suit, looking every inch the powerful CEO. The article detailed her rise from a small town Vermont girl to a tech industry titan and her plans to bring hundreds of jobs to the area with Fair Tech’s new headquarters. Emma found the paper before Harrison could hide it. Dad, it’s Miss Brooke. She’s famous.

Harrison took a deep breath. Yes, she is. She’s a very important businesswoman. Emma’s eyes were wide. It says she’s a billionaire. That means she has a billion dollars. That’s like a thousand millions. I’m aware of the math, Emma, Harrison said more sharply than he intended. Emma’s expression fell.

“Are you mad at her? Is that why she didn’t come over yesterday like she was supposed to?” Harrison sighed, sitting down next to his daughter. “It’s complicated, kiddo. Finding out someone isn’t who you thought they were. It takes some getting used to. Emma considered this for a moment.

But she’s still Brooke, right? She still laughs at your bad jokes and helps me with my science projects. She’s just Brooke with a really good job. Out of the mouths of babes, indeed. Harrison stared at his daughter, suddenly seeing the situation through her uncomplicated perspective. Was he really upset that Brooke had money? Or was he letting his pride get in the way of something good? When did you get so wise? He asked, ruffling her hair.

I’ve always been wise,” Emmer replied with exaggerated dignity. “You just don’t listen enough.” For the next few days, Harrison wrestled with his feelings. He missed Brooke her laugh, her insights, the way she could make an ordinary evening feel special. But every time he picked up the phone to call her, pride held him back.

What could he possibly offer someone who had everything? On Wednesday, his truck broke down on the way to pick up Emma from her summer program. After getting her a ride home with a friend’s parent, he called his boss at the garage who sent a tow truck. The diagnosis was grim. The transmission was shot. The repair would cost more than the truck was worth.

I can give you a deal on the labor, his boss offered sympathetically. But the parts alone are going to run close to 2,000. Harrison thanked him, his mind already calculating which bills would have to be late this month. As he walked home, the summer heat bearing down on him, his phone buzzed with a text from Brooke. I miss you both of you.

Can we talk? Before he could respond, Emma called from home, wondering when he’d be back. He explained about the truck, trying to keep his voice upbeat. So, we’ll have to be carfree for a while, kiddo. Think of it as an adventure. Emma was quiet for a moment. Dad, why don’t you call Miss Brooke? I bet she’d help.

Emma, we can’t just ask people for money, Harrison explained, his exhaustion evident. Not for money, Emma clarified. For help. Like how you helped Mr. Rodriguez when his basement flooded. Or how you fixed Miss Chen’s porch steps. People help each other. Dad, you always say that. Harrison stopped walking, struck by the simple truth of his daughter’s words.

He had spent so much time insisting on self-sufficiency that he’d forgotten the value of community, of interdependence. You’re right, he admitted. I’ll call her. When he got home, Emma was waiting with a glass of lemonade and a determined expression.

Did you call her? Not yet, Harrison said, sinking into a kitchen chair. I needed to think about what to say. Emmer rolled her eyes with the dramatic flare only a pre-teen could muster. Just say you’re sorry for being weird about her job and that you miss her and that you need a ride to get groceries because your truck is broken. Harrison couldn’t help but laugh. When you put it that way, it sounds simple.

It is simple, Emma insisted. You like her, she likes you. The rest is just details. With his daughter’s encouragement, Harrison finally called Brooke. When she answered, her voice was cautious but hopeful. Harrison, I’m glad you called. I’m sorry, he said immediately. I overreacted. Finding out about your company was a shock, but that’s no excuse for how I behaved.

I understand, Brook said softly. I should have been honest from the start. Maybe, Harrison acknowledged. But I get why you weren’t. And Emma helped me see that you’re still the same person, the one who loves Raspberry Pie and hates scary movies and always beats me at Scrabble.

Brooke laughed, the sound like music to his ears. Your daughter is very wise. She is, Harrison agreed. And she misses you. We both do. I miss you, too, Brookke said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. Both of you, Harrison took a deep breath. My truck broke down today. Transmission shot.

I’m sorry to hear that, Brookke said, sounding genuinely concerned. That’s a big repair. It is, Harrison agreed. And Emma pointed out that I’m always helping others, but I have a hard time accepting help myself, so I’m wondering. Could you give us a ride to get groceries this weekend as a friend?” The pause that followed was brief but significant. “I’d be happy to,” Brookke finally said. “As a friend or whatever we are to each other.

” The question hung in the air, unspoken but important. “I’d like to figure that out,” Harrison said honestly. If you’re willing, more than willing,” Brooke assured him, true to her word, Brooke picked them up that weekend. But instead of going straight to the grocery store, she took them to a used car lot.

“What are we doing here?” Harrison asked, confused. “Hear me out,” Brookke said quickly. “Fair Tech has a program for employees, no interest loans for reliable transportation. It’s a benefit we offer because good transportation means reliable employees. I don’t work for FairTech, Harrison pointed out. Not yet, Brooke replied with a smile.

But we’re building a headquarters that will need maintenance staff, including experienced mechanics. The position comes with full benefits, regular hours, and a salary that’s about 30% above what you’re making now. Harrison stared at her speechless. It’s not charity, Brooke continued. It’s a job offer based on your qualifications.

The transportation program is just a standard benefit. You’d make payments directly from your paycheck, no different than any other employee. You’re offering me a job. Harrison finally managed. Fair Tech is offering you a job. Brooke corrected. I told our HR director about your skills and she agreed you’d be perfect, but whether you take it or not, whether we explore what’s between us or not, those are separate decisions.

No strings attached. Harrison looked from Brooke to Emma, who was trying and failing to hide her excitement. “Can I think about it?” “Of course.” Brooke nodded. “Take all the time you need.” In the end, the decision wasn’t as difficult as Harrison had imagined. The job at Fair Tech offered stability, benefits, and most importantly, time to be with Emma, to pursue his own interests, to explore his feelings for Brooke without the constant pressure of financial stress.

6 months later, Harrison stood in his kitchen preparing burgers for the housewarming barbecue at his new place, a modest but comfortable house he was renting with an option to buy. Through the window, he could see Emma showing Brooke how to set up the badminton net in the backyard. Both of them laughing as they tangled themselves in the strings.

The doorbell rang, announcing the first guests. As people began to fill his home friends from work, neighbors, Emma’s schoolmates and their parents, Harrison felt a contentment he hadn’t experienced in years. When Brooke joined him at the grill, slipping her hand into his, the feeling intensified. “Need any help, Chef Scott?” she teased.

“I’ve got it under control,” he assured her, flipping a burger with expert precision. “But thanks for offering.” Brookke studied him for a moment. You seem happy. I am, Harrison said honestly. Turns out letting people in accepting help opening up it’s not as scary as I thought. Who knew? Brookke said with a smile, reaching up to kiss him softly.

As the evening progressed, Harrison found himself standing beside Brooke as the sun set over their gathered friends. Emma was teaching some of the adults a complicated clapping game, her confidence growing daily in their stable new life. You know, Harrison said quietly to Brooke. When you showed up at Emma’s party that day, I never imagined we’d end up here. No, Brooke raised an eyebrow. I did.

The minute I tasted your burgers, I knew you were something special, Harrison laughed. So, it was my cooking that won you over. It was everything, Brook said, her expression growing serious. Your dedication to Emma, your work ethic, your integrity, the burgers were just a bonus. Harrison wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

Well, I’m glad you crashed that kids party. Best decision I ever made, Brooke agreed, leaning into his embrace. Though, I still think you should consider my offer to franchise Harrison’s burgers. We could make millions. Let’s stick with making memories for now. Harrison suggested, “The millions can wait.

” As they stood together watching Emma’s joyful interactions with their guests, Harrison marveled at how dramatically his life had changed in just a few months. He had a job he enjoyed, a home he was proud of, and a relationship built on mutual respect and genuine affection. Most importantly, Emma was thriving, secure in the knowledge that she was loved and supported.

The journey hadn’t been without challenges. Harrison had needed to overcome his pride to accept that interdependence wasn’t weakness. Brooke had struggled with concerns that people only valued her for her wealth, not for herself. Together they had navigated these issues with honesty and patience, building a foundation stronger than either could have created alone.

As the night drew to a close and guests began to depart, Harrison found himself back at the grill cooking the last few burgers. Brooke joined him, passing plates as he flipped pattis. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “Some people might say this is a modern fairy tale.

” “The billionaire and the borger flipping dad,” Harrison chuckled. If it is, it’s the most realistic fairy tale I’ve ever heard, complete with transmission problems and pre-teen drama. That’s what makes it perfect, Brooke replied, stealing a kiss when Emma wasn’t looking. The real ones always are.