Page 121 of Return Billionaire to Sender

“It was so beyond that.” I give her the whole story. The thrill of our sessions. The magic of our secret relationship. The sense of getting to know him, like finding a counterpart out in the world. Of falling for him so hard, my head spun.

She blinks, stunned. “Sooooo…it wasn’t a fling. You were in a whole actual relationship with him.”

I nod.

“He seems so, opposite of you.”

“Not in the important ways.” I sink down to the couch, exhausted. “For this little window of time, this span of a few weeks, Malcolm and I were in tune with each other in a way I never knew. You just can’t believe how we clicked. I know that’s a surprise, considering who he is, but I got to see this side of him that nobody else sees. And I loved that side of him. I loved all the sides of him.”

“But, Noelle—he’s throwing us onto the street,” she says.

“I know.”

“So…maybe you’re better off without him?” she says. “As in, good riddance?”

“You don’t know how bad I hurt him. I should have told him the truth as soon as things started happening, but I didn’t. I slept with him and got close to him. I let him fall for me while I was lying to him. The thing is, this is a man who doesn’t open up to people—not ever. He doesn’t need anybody. He doesn’t let anybody in. Except me. And now he thinks I was lying the whole time. Which I was.”

“But you told him in the end.”

“Too late.”

Softly, she says, “People make mistakes. You have a good heart, Noelle—if he knew you at all, he’d know that.”

I shake my head, picturing the misery on his face. The desolation in his gaze.

“You went out there and you tried so hard to save our building,” she continues. “You went out on such a limb for the people you love…”

“And I got us all evicted sooner. So…”

“I’m so sorry.” She disappears into the kitchen. I hear our candy drawer open. She comes back with a full bar of chocolate almond toffee.

“Thanks,” I say, ripping it open, though I can’t imagine how I could eat.

“We’re proud of you,” she says, sinking down onto the couch next to me. “I mean, you had the papers in your hands. Oh my god, can you imagine? Rent-to-own condos and not being kicked out ever? But you were right to tell him. None of us could really be a hundred percent behind getting the building in a deceptive way. Even from Malcolm Blackberg.”

I break off a piece and give it to her. She takes a bite. “Yum.”

“Francine, I know you’re still imagining it,” I whisper. “Rent-to-own condos and not being kicked out ever.”

“I am. But still, you couldn’t.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t,” I say. “That and five bucks will get me a shitty frappuccino, huh?”

Francine snorts softly. “Still, to throw us on the street to punish you? I mean, even John and Maisey? Who does that?”

“Malcolm,” I say. “When you rip out his heart.”

30

Malcolm

One of thebiggest mistakes I see out in the business world is people not having the stomach to do a thorough post-mortem when something goes wrong. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s not easy to look a failure square in the eye, but it really is necessary if you’re ever going to get anywhere.

Elle, of course, is a spectacular failure, a situation where I didn’t see something that was right in front of my nose.

This is the reason that I give myself when I ferret out her mail delivery route. I need to understand this whole thing, right?

It is the reason I give myself for deciding to do my work at a window table in a café on one of the streets her route takes her through. I take calls and type memos, keeping my gaze vaguely on the scene in front of me. After three hours of sitting there, I finally catch sight of her walking along in her blue uniform and summer shorts.

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