Page 105 of Trailer Park Billionaire
We were partners. We were more than that. I trusted you.
“I know.” My voice roughens, and I hate that it does. “I know, and that’s the worst part. You trusted me. And I was too afraid to trust you back. Too afraid to tell you the whole truth. I was scared you’d walk away if you knew.”
And that’s really what it comes down to.
Fear.
Not of the cops. Not of the heist failing. Not even of jail. But of her turning around and saying,You’re not who I thought you were.
And she’d be right. She deserves better. Not someone who lies and pretends.
After making it through all the traffic, I pull into the sushi place’s parking lot and try not to look like a man on the verge of an emotional breakdown when I step inside.
The hostess at Neta smiles at me when I place my order. I ask her to triple the amount of Rainbow Rolls, because those are her favorite.
She gives me a look like I’m just some sweet guy doing something thoughtful for his girlfriend—not some lying asshole trying to earn her forgiveness before she even knows what he did.
While I wait, I rehearse a dozen different versions of the same speech. None of them sound right. All of them end with her leaving (some with her kicking me in the crotch). But in the tiniest, most desperate corner of my mind, I imagine something else.
I imagine her forgiving me.
Not immediately. Not easily. But someday.
I imagine her understanding why I did it. I imagine her learning to trust me again. I imagine… anus.
Us being together.
Us moving in together.
Us having a future.
Just us. No lies. No aliases. No heists. Just Helena and Ben.
And because I am an idiot, and desperate, and in love, I also imagine us traveling. I imagine lazy mornings in bed. I imagine us opening a little gallery where she sells her art and I breakfast. I imagine us growing old together. Grey hair. Wrinkles. Laugh lines. Arguments about whether Reuben gets his own room in our house. And sushi nights. Sushi nights, where I still order extra Rainbow Rolls just because I know it makes her eyes light up.
I shake my head and want to slap myself.
The hostess calls my name, I take the bags, and drive back faster than I should.
36
HELENA
He invites himself in without waiting for a response, just steps past me like he owns the place. The air thickens with the sharp sting of absinthe, laced with gasoline’s volatile edge.
My body is frozen, muscles locked tight, brain stuck between making a run for it and shutting down entirely.
“Don’t bother,” he says, glancing at my bare feet like he’s reading my next move. “You wouldn’t get far. Not with those tiny legs. And no offense, but you don’t exactly scream track and field.”
I’m too shocked to reply.
He closes the door gently behind him, like we’re about to have tea. “Besides,” he adds, brushing invisible lint from the lapel of his tailored coat, “I think I’ve got something you’re going to want to hear.”
That stops the scream climbing up my throat. I suck in a breath and swallow it. Then I turn to face him without saying a word.
He strolls through my space—ourspace—casual as hell, like he’s browsing a museum.
Ben is probably just arriving at the restaurant. Even if I could make it to my phone, he wouldn’t get here in time to help. I’m on my own.
