Page 22 of Unwrapping the Billionaire

Jonas

Present

With my face on fire, I watch the doors close on my past, my present,andmy future…

I glance down at the file in my hand as the weeds of guilt and regret continue to grow thickset around my heart.

“If that will be all, Mr. Farley,” says Ava, from somewhere behind me. “I need to get going now.”

“What’s wrong with your mother?” I ask, turning quickly to catch her reaction.

She gasps, and takes a step back in shock. “How did you—?”

“Please. Tell me...”

Whether it’s the shock one-eighty from my usual shitty tone, or the thought of sharing her pain with someone other than a hospital nurse, she opens her mouth and starts talking.

“She needs a kidney transplant.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”I genuinely am, as well. “Is she on the list?”

Ava nods slowly. “There’s a potential donor over on the West coast, but we can't get the transport lined up this quickly on Christmas Eve. We only have another fifteen hours before the organ loses its viability.”

Without thinking, I’m pulling out my cellphone to dial my Los Angeles office. “How long has she been on the list?”

“Two years.”

Christ.

“Simon. Jonas Farley here,” I say briskly, as soon as the call connects. “I’ll be passing the phone to my New York secretary in a moment and she’ll give you all the pertinent details. In short, there’s a package of vital importance that needs to be here in New York, as soon as possible. My private jet’s already in L.A… I want my pilot good to fly within the hour.”

There’s a soft cry from Ava, and it tastes like honey compared to the wretched bile that’s been polluting my mouth for too long. I’m finding it hard to look at her when I pass her my cell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice full of tears.

“What’s your mother’s name?” I ask, sounding pretty roughed-up myself.

“Temperance Johnson.” There’s a beat. “But all her close friends calls her Timmy. It’s kind of a joke thing.” She touches my arm briefly. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Farley… You’ve given us the one present we never even dared to hope for.”

I find myself smiling back at her—not a smirk or a derisive grin, but an actual God’s-honest curve of the lips.“I figured I owed you for putting up with all my shit... Let me know how the operation goes. Simon’s on standby if you need anything else.” I step into the elevator carriage feeling like half a good guy for once, instead of the hollow spectre I’ve been for most of my life. The only woman who can make me whole again is currently storming down Fifth Avenue with an aching hand.

Our eyes meet as the doors start to close, and then I’m sticking out my foot to stop them. “And, just so we’re clear…” I murmur. “The best Nicole Kidman movie will always beMoulin Rouge!”

* * *

Grace was rightwhen she said it was taxicab Armageddon on Christmas Eve. In the end, I have to bribe an old lady two hundred bucks just to share one all the way to East Ninth Street. I would have paid double.I would have paid the world.

The kitschy lights in every window don’t seem to irritate me anymore. Even the carol singers belting out an off-key version ofLast Christmason the corner of her block makes my throat feel tight.They remind me her.

Everything reminds me of her.

I find her slumped against the wall outside her building, with her mouth full of her black gloves, and rummaging around in her bag for her keys. I knew her address the day she moved in over a year ago…

I missed her then.

I miss her now.

First, I need to stop coming off as such a psychopath to her.

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