Page 78 of Return Billionaire to Sender

I flop back on the bed, reliving the way he touched me. I can still feel it in my veins, like the remnants of a magical potion. “I feel like I’m losing control of the situation, Francine.”

“Noelle, you are doing this. It is mind-blowing, how far you’ve gotten. We are all completely blown away. You’re this brave warrior for our building. The worst that can happen is he tears down the building. He was already gonna do that.”

“I know,” I say.

“Are you feeling nervous or homesick?” she asks. “Oh my god, is he being just a complete asshole?”

“It’s not that…”

“None of us would blame you if you felt like you had to come home,” she says in a small voice. “If you wanted to come home, we’ll buy the ticket. You’re all alone in a strange place—”

“No, it’s not that. It’s more that I feel like, it might be a lost cause. He’s pretty into his development going the way it is, and my resolve might be weakening.”

“Wait, what?” Francine barks. “What have you done with Noelle? You have the most resolve of anyone I know.”

I object, but she keeps on, talking over my protests.

“You set your mind to things and you make them happen,” she says. “It’s what you do. Nothing stops you from doing what you set your mind to. You have the most resolve of anybody I know. Think of how you fought for your mother. Think of how you moved out to New York all alone. And as a letter carrier, you’re out there braving all kinds of weather. Like that Christmas Eve blizzard you told us about? And it was a crazy amount of snow, and you were stranded in some cabin, but you ventured out to deliver that last package?”

I close my eyes. I did do that. Half the mailboxes were drifted so deep, no way could they be served without a shovel.

“You said you just started in and kept going. And you made it happen. That’s what you’re doing now, and we’re all so freaking proud of you.”

Would they be proud of me to know I was getting hand jobs from Malcolm?

I make her tell me the latest news from the building. Jada and Antonio are an official item now—not a surprise to any of us. Mia’s show is getting raves. Maisey made caramel corn for the new letter carrier. The updates help.

I’m about to wash up for bed when I notice that I have messages from Nisha and Coralee—the traveling team is going out dancing.

It’s ten at night, a bit late to go out, but maybe dancing would be a good way to blow off steam. I’m definitely not tired.

I text back.

Me: I’m into it! Have you left yet?

Nisha: We’re in the lobby waiting for the Uber. ETA?

Me: I’ll be there in seven!!

I change into my skirt outfit and rush down. We pile into an Uber and head out to a club with pink strobe lights where the people are packed into a thronging mass.

Nisha and Coralee and Lawrence and I do shots and then head out onto the floor where we make a fearsome foursome. It’s totally fun, and I’m thinking, maybe things aren’t so out of control. Maybe I can do this. I just have to find a way to get us back on track of him focusing on the videos and on my neighbors.

My phone is buzzing in my pocket. It’s nearly midnight—who would be calling?

I pull it out and see that it’s a New Jersey number. I have a mini heart attack. I don’t think it’s Stella’s number, but it’s the same area code, and I have this feeling like it might be bad news. I see that the same caller has tried me three times in the past hour while I’ve been dancing.

But there are no messages.

What does it mean? Have I been found out?

The call goes to voice mail and again, no message is left. I wish I’d answered—I’ll agonize about it until I know what’s going on. Or should I call the number back?

A fun song comes on.

“Come dance!” Nisha screams from the dance floor. Lawrence waves. Coralee rushes over to where I am. “Come on, Elle!”

My phone starts vibrating yet again. I hold it up and point to it. “I have to take this.” I rush up the stairs and around the corner into a quiet hallway that leads to the restrooms. “Hello?”

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