Page 111 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire
Elsie has the most delightful giggle at Grandpa’s flirtatious joke.
I have never felt more like a third wheel in my life. “I’ll go, Gramps. Maybe come back tomorrow to talk about…” I waggle the brown envelope.
“It’s me who should go.” Elsie springs to her feet as if she might also have technologically enhanced knees. “I only stopped in for a quick hello, and that was”—she consults her watch, moving her wrist farther away for focus—“ninetyminutes ago.”
“We just can’t stop talking once we start,” Grandpa says with a sparkle in his eye I haven’t seen for years.
Clearly these two are a match made in heaven.
But finding conversation easy isn’t always a sign a relationship will work. I mean, I found conversation easy with Miller. And look where that got me.
But, like his brother said, Miller’s the smooth talker with the charm that got him to where he is in business. And that’s clearly all I was to him. A business deal. Someone he needed to sweet-talk into doing exactly what he wanted.
Elsie straightens the skirt of her dress, which fits her every curve perfectly, so I guess she keeps on top of her tailoring skills.
“Dominoes at ten a.m.” she says, pointing to Grandpa as she heads toward the door.
“Wouldn’t miss thrashing you for the world.” He beams.
As soon as she’s out of sight, Grandpa relaxes into his chair, closes his eyes and sighs. The smile on his face suggests he’s mentally left the room with Elsie.
And I could not be happier for him.
If she hurts him though, I’m breaking both of her remarkably spritely knees.
“She seems very nice,” I assure him.
“Breath of fresh air,” he says. “Just like having you around is too.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
“Well, notexactlylike it, I don’t think.” I raise my eyebrows at him.
He gives me a coy shrug. “As soon as I can walk for long enough, I thought I’d bring Elsie over to the house to meet the donkeys,” he says.
“Excellent idea. She can’treallyknow you until she’s seen you around them.”
That sentence, that fell from my lips without a second’s thought, makes my brain cogs turn in a different direction.
It hadn’t even crossed my mind until this moment that that’s exactly how Miller got to know me—as the real person I am when I’m here.
That person in Chicago with the office and the salary and the pants suits—who the hell is she? And how did I become her?
Christ, yes, this place—the sanctuary, the town—makes me feel like myself, makes mebemyself.
It obviously doesn’t work for everyone, though. I mean, after his whole Petunia moment, I thought the sanctuary had also brought out the real Miller. That I’d seen who he really was. But all that time, I didn’t even know his real name.
Fuck. I have to do something to stop him from popping into my mind every second thought because it makes me feel like I’ve been kicked in the guts by Waldo.
Grandpa blurs a little in front of me as my eyes prickle and throat knots. But I will not shed tears in front of him.
That might be a tall order though, given the conversation we now need to have.
“So, I guess it’s time to talk business.” He gestures at the brown envelope in my lap, the sparkle now faded from his eyes.
I nod and slide out the papers inside. “I brought the two offers for you to look at again. Not that we need to accept either of them, of course. I just want to be sure we have a contingency. That we’ll hopefully never need. Because I’m hoping my plan?—”
“Oh, I’m happy to go with whicheverone you think is best.” Rather than taking the papers, he pushes them back toward me.
I freeze for a second, an icy chill running down my spine. “You mean you want to sell? Like, actuallywantto. As a free choice?”
