Page 117 of Return Billionaire to Sender

Cooperative ownership.“What...” I ask, heart racing. I scan down and find the address—341 West 45th Street. Our building. Everything in me begins to vibrate. It’s everything I wanted.

And the worst thing, too.

“Before you freak out.” He takes the papers and shows me the payment part. “I’m converting it to rent-to-own if they can’t pay up front, which I’m assuming most of them can’t, because let’s face it, if they could, they wouldn’t be living there. It’s actually a good price. We’ll courier it to the residents tomorrow, but I think it counts to get me out of class today, don’t you?”

I look up, mouth hanging open. Yes, I said that. I’d forgotten. The pie-in-the-sky ask.

“I can see you’re stunned. I’m fine if you want to give me more postal anecdotes. In fact, I rather like those, but I draw the line at more of that insipid video.”

The words on the document blur and bend. It’s everything I’d wanted. Everything I’d never hoped to dream.

A legal contract for us to own our apartments.

He’ll sign it and send it around to us, and if we sign, it’ll be binding. There’s probably some percentage of us who need to agree to make it legal, but who of us wouldn’t?

Once it’s all signed, it’s final. He couldn’t take it away.

I sink onto the bed, mind spinning. I could have this—wecould have this—me and my girl squad and everybody else.

“You’re a hard audience. Look—this is the best part.” He takes it from me and turns to the next part. “Look who’s running the place.” He shoves it back into my hands.

It’s John and Maisey. He somehow found out their last names—I suppose because he’s the landlord. He’s put them in joint charge as the first presidents of the cooperative board.

I’m holding onto that document so tightly, it’s a wonder my fingers haven’t pulverized the paper.

He pretends it’s about getting out of watching any more of the video, but he’s doing it for me, and maybe even a little bit for my neighbors. The detail about John and Maisey gives him away. This is Malcolm, tentatively opening up his heart.

“Malcolm,” I whisper.

I can feel his confusion. “What’s wrong, country mouse?”

Hopelessly, I shake my head.

“Wow,” he says, “you really had your heart set on showing me those videos, didn’t you? I’m sorry, I really am, but a man has his limits.”

“Don’t be funny,” I gust out.

“But I thought that was one of my selling points,” he says softly. “My darkly acerbic yet strangely compelling wit.”

I shake my head.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, meaning the contract. “Personally, I think it demonstrates an almost psychotic level of empathy.”

I look up to find him smiling, searching my face.

His tone changes, turning serious now. “You know this has to end. This sneaking around, this pretense of coach and student. I know what your profession means to you, and I don’t want you to be crossing ethical lines and jeopardizing your career, but this thing between us deserves better, don’t you think? Let’s see where it goes. You did say that I get to graduate if I promise not to tear the building down. Surely you remember…”

“I remember.”

“I had my designer look into an alternate way to do the parking ramp entrance, and he worked it up. And yes, it’s not the best in terms of aesthetics, but there is an unexpected convenience factor to re-orienting the ramp. And you know me, just another billionaire who does whatever ridic thing that flies into his head.”

Malcolm. I think he has never been more lovable.

All I have to do is to hold my tongue for a day or so, and we’ll have what we want. I can just imagine my people’s faces when they see these papers. They would be beyond amazed. I can see Mia laughing her head off.Little Noelle!Francine would be wide-eyed with shock—these apartments can be ours? We’d never have to leave?Jada would be like,No way!She’d practically yell it, and that would make it so incredibly fun. Willow would just laugh, loving it. Tabitha would make more hot pink Barbies. Lizzie would bake up a mean batch of cookies shaped like our building.

For a moment I allow myself to enjoy the daydream of it.

But what about Malcolm? I can’t do that to Malcolm. My belly twists in a knot.

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