Page 113 of Her Billionaire Boyfriend

“I know,” I went on. “Believe me, I know.But when I heard Scott and Catherine—that’s Matt’s sister—talking,one of the things that Scott said was that he would give upbillions of dollars to be with her. I mean, not those exact words.More like, she said she couldn’t leave her husband because she hadmore to lose, and he was like, I would lose it all. Something tothat effect.”

“And Matt thought that was unrealistic?”Sarrah swirled her cup.

“That’s what he said.”Thosewords, Icould remember with piercing clarity. “Poetic. Not realistic.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t saying it about yourbrother and his sister?”

“I—”

“You didn’t clarify if he was asking aboutyou.” She punctuated her statement with a gulp from hertumbler.

“What was I supposed to do? Ask him, ‘wouldyou give up billions for me?’ and hope the answer was different?”What if it hadn’t been different?

She circumvented my “what if” withoutwaiting for me to speak it. “If it was different, would you havebelieved him?”

“I don’t know. Probably not?”

“Would you have wanted to believe him?” Shetilted her head and awaited my answer.

Would I havewantedto? “What kind ofquestion is that?”

“The kind someone asks when they can seetheir best friend repeating the same bullshit she has repeated inall of her relationships. You’re inventing problems because youwant to be the one to leave first.”

“Ouch.”

“Truth hurts.”

I took a long swallow and grimaced at theburn of the alcohol. Truth did hurt, especially when I couldn’tconvince myself of a lie. “No one likes to be rejected.”

“You’re right,” she agreed gently. “Nobodydoes. But you weren’t rejected, were you?”

“Not really,” I admitted.

“Define ‘not really.’ Was he upset that youwere leaving?” she asked.

“I think he would have been perfectly happyif I’d stayed in New York for the rest of my life,” I choked out, ahot tear spilling down my cheek.

Sarrah moved automatically to grab a tissuefrom the box on the coffee table. “And would you have beenperfectly happy doing that?”

I took the tissue and blotted under my eyes.“Throwing my life away and jumping straight into a man’s isn’tsomething that should make me happy.”

“Should or would?”

Sarrahshouldhave gone to lawschool. Shewouldhave had less time to scrutinize my datinglife, if she had.

With a tearful laugh, I said, “I don’t know.The only thing I have going for me here is you and the rest of thegroup, my parents, the dispensary—”

“You’re going to have so much money, you’llbe able to come back here and hang with us any time you want,” shepointed out. “And there are dispensaries you can work at in NewYork, if you like it.”

Damn. I didn’t have a way to argue with anyof that. I almost brought up Matt’s thing about travel andlessening carbon footprints to assuage his conscience butimmediately dismissed it. He would never deny me visits back home.And while I liked working at the dispensary, I also liked havingevery one of my needs met without any effort on my part.

But I couldn’t quit arguing against my ownhappiness. “How do I know this is even permanent, though? I’msupposed to, what, put everything on hold until he’s done withme?”

“What do you have going on that’s so hard topause?” she challenged me.

“Again, ouch.” But whatdidI havegoing on? I still didn’t know what I was meant to do with my life.Was it possible that being with Matt was a part of finding thatout?

My phone chimed, and I jumped up, racing tomy bed to grab it.

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