Page 129 of Pretty Little Thing

“When, Nora?” I ask again.

“Sunday,” she says. “At the gym you work at.”

“How did you know what gym I worked at?”

She deflates. “I kind of… feroed yue,” she mumbles.

I lean forward. “You what?”

“I followed you,” she says again, her face full of shame.

“You followed me?”

“We saw you at the laundromat,” she admits. “I didn’t want to follow you. I said it was wrong but Trix and Melanie were gonna do it anyway so I tagged along and I waited for you to go inside before checking your car and—” She exhales hard. “Are you mad?”

“No, just very…” I shake my head at the table. “Actually, yeah. Maybe a little. I don’t know. I’m embarrassed, that’s for sure. Mad might sneak in later.”

“But you don’t have to be!” she says. “It doesn’t matter to me. Really.”

“It matters to me,” I say. “Nora, it matters to me.”

“Okay, but…”

She shrinks in her chair, looking even smaller than she usually does.

“Nora, I don’t think you realize how intimidating you are,” I say. “I mean, Jesus, you’re the wealthiest woman in Chicago.”

“Well… not technically,” she says, raising a finger. “Wealthiest woman under thirty, sure, or I was last year… but that’s not important! It’s not! I don’t care about money.”

“Spoken like someone who has it,” I bite.

“Oh, come on, Clive. Don’t be like that.”

“How am I supposed to be?” I ask. “Reverse this. Imagine being in my shoes right now. How would you feel if I tripled your pay and literally flew you across state lines to some flashy place just to impress you after I gossiped about your private business behind your back with my friends?”

“I’d…” Her face wrinkles. “I’d be pretty pissed off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And embarrassed and insulted.” She hangs her head, briefly touching her cheeks. “God, Clive. I’m sorry.”

What the hell was I thinking? I knew this would happen from the start. I knew that once she knew who I really was things would change between us.

“Honestly, Nora,” I say, forcing the words to come out. “I think we should think twice about this.”

Nora looks up. “Think twice about what?”

“About…” I gesture between us. “Us. You and me.”

“I made an awkward judgment call,” she says. “Let’s not jump onto the first knee-jerk reaction.”

“This isn’t a knee-jerk reaction,” I argue. “This is about fundamental lifestyle differences.”

Her eyes narrow. “Lifestyle differences?”

“You have every opportunity, Nora. You deserve a man with just as much influence and ability to provide—”

“So, a woman’s not allowed to date beneath her tax bracket?” she asks.

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