Page 12 of The Billionaire's Wife

I’d been a project for his parents. I’d known that then. I’d been desperate enough to get away from home that hanging out with the Lees—even when they seemed to be at church more than at home—was better than any other available alternative. Mrs. Lee had been the mother I’d always craved. And Mr. Lee? A father who would never try a doorknob, let alone get angry when he found it locked, was a dream.

“How’s your mom?” I blurted out the question without really thinking about how it would sound.

Tristan’s whole face softened. “She’s great. Dad, too. They’re spending until Thanksgiving in Vietnam.”

“Vietnam?” I laughed. “You know what? I can picture them there. Probably riding elephants or something.”

“Or something.” Tristan pulled out his phone and tapped at it. After a moment, he flipped it around and offered it.

I took the phone and looked down at a photo of his parents surrounded by a throng of children who all looked to be younger than eight or nine. If the genuine joy shining out of their eyes was anything to go by, they were having the time of their lives.

I handed him back his phone. “They look just the same.”

Tristan glanced at the photo, smiled, then put the phone back in his pocket. “Pretty close, I guess.”

“Do they know about us?” I’d always wondered. Back then, I’d never been sure what answer I wanted him to give me.

I still wasn’t.

He shook his head.

“Oh.” Disappointment stabbed my heart. Which was stupid. Why should he have said anything to them? I cleared my throat. “So. What do you need me to do?”

Tristan blinked. “Do?”

“You’re the one who said I should come to the office with you today. I guess I thought that meant you needed me for something.” Wishful thinking, I guess.

“Oh. I just didn’t want to leave you cooped up at the condo.”

I didn’t buy it. “Scared I’d paw through your things?”

“No.” He huffed out a breath. “Honestly? Scared you’d decide to take off again and take your chances instead of doing the right thing.”

Ouch.

Not that he was wrong. It was a possibility. I really hadn’t decided completely against it even now. We’d spent all weekend holed up in his condo, each of us pretending that the other didn’t exist. I had come out of the guest room for meals, but otherwise it had seemed like keeping out of sight was the better choice.

Even if it meant I was stuck with his book selection for entertainment.

He read legal thrillers.

Because of course he did.

Those were better than the theology books and Bible commentaries though.

I sighed. “Do you at least have a tablet I could use? I can scroll the Internet. Or do a puzzle or something.”

“I think staying off-line is better for you, all things being equal. But I can hook you up with a puzzle.” Tristan stood and pushed away from his desk. He crossed to double doors that I’d assumed led to a closet and pulled them open.

I wasn’t wrong. But I also wasn’t right. It was a closet, but it was huge. Boxes took up a lot of the space—probably old case files that he wasn’t ready or able to get rid of.

Tristan moved one stack of boxes aside and dragged out a small folded table. He leaned it against one of the doors, then shifted the boxes back into place before reaching to the upper shelf that ran along the whole back wall and bringing down a stack of smaller boxes.

Puzzles.

I smiled in spite of myself. “You still do jigsaws?”

“They help me think.” He shrugged and pushed the boxes toward me. “Pick one.”

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