Page 84 of Tied Up in Riches

She hums. “What about Marcus? You work for him. Is he the same?”

I scan through every interaction with Marcus that I can remember like a flip book. Thinking about it in retrospect, in each image, he gets closer to me. “This entire trip . . . he has been touching me. But we were fake dating for most of it. That’s probably why.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen Marcus be touchy with girls past anything cordial. Even Dean said once that he’s not into PDA.”

“That’s hard to believe . . . It feels so comfortable when he’s touching me. Natural. Like it would be weird if it was any other way. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Maybe it’s just because you make it easy for him.”

“I love how it feels when he touches me,” I say softly, not necessarily to Maci.

She fights back a smile, twirling her Red Vine. “How did Beau make you feel?”

“Less-than. A means to an end. Like shit, but also like I didn’t have a better option than him.”

“How does Marcus make you feel?”

I search for the right words, even though I’m not sure they exist. “Sometimes, when I look into the night sky, at the swirls of stars and the planets, I feel so small and insignificant. But other times, I think that if I exist in a place where I get to witness something so extraordinary and powerful, there’s meaning in that. That I'm a part of what makes life spin on its axis. Marcus makes me feel like that.”

“That sounds like something you shouldn’t give up.” She smiles, her hand landing gently on my shoulder. “So, at what point do you abandon this idea in your head for something that makes more sense?”

“He makes everything make more sense.” I tear my Red Vine in half, not bothering to eat it. “I just wish he would have told me.”

She stares in a way that feels like an eye roll. “Can you blame him with how much you outwardly hate rich people?”

I sigh. “No. You’re right.”

“I went through the same thing with Dean, resenting him for not telling me he was leaving. But consider it this way. What if you hating rich people so much made him feel like it was something he needed to be ashamed of or concerned about? What if not telling you was simply his way of protecting himself and what you two have?”

He did look upset when he was confirming he’s nearly a billionaire. Even though I’m new to his life, it doesn’t take more than that to know he worked extremely hard for that. “Shit. I messed this up.”

“Trust me, you didn’t.” She points, and I follow her fingers to the monitor behind me showing Marcus and the girls on a couch on stage. They aren’t live yet, but you can tell Marcus isn’t present. He’s rubbing his hands over his thighs like he’s trying to work out worry. “Marcus doesn’t get stage fright,” Maci adds. There was a sliver of me that thought maybe that was it. “He’s never nervous. Dean and I went to see him speak at a tech conference for thousands of people, and he seemed as comfortable as sitting at our kitchen table.”

“I don’t want him to worry,” I say it more to myself, but Maci nudges me toward where Dean is standing closer to the stage, watching his friend.

I join her future husband a few feet from the stage, glancing up at him. His hands are shoved in his jean pockets, flannel rolled to his elbows as he meets my gaze, looking guilty. “I’m sorry I let the cat out of the bag. With the way he’s been talking about you, I assumed he’d told you.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” I assure him.

“Try not to blame Marcus either. This is a big deal for him.”

“I know.”

“I hope Maci talked some sense into you. She’s the better of us at pep talks.” He glances back at Marcus.

I nod, assuming he can see the motion from the corner of his eye without my verbal confirmation.

“There’s no one better to have in your corner.”

“I don’t know how to tell him that’s what I want.” I stare in the same direction he is, watching Marcus continue to rub his hands over his slacks as he listens to something a cameraman tells him and the girls.

“He doesn’t need much. A look should do it. Nothing too intense, though. Slacks are not forgiving pants.”

I laugh. “I’m not sure I could have quite that effect from here.”

“Oh trust me, if the past week of payback for how many times I brought up Maci when we first met is any indication, he has very little control left.”

I don’t respond, but I listen and wait for Marcus to glance in our direction. He finally does when the cameraman walks off stage, and his eyes lock on mine. His hands freeze. God, he’s handsome. His charcoal suit looks just as good on him as it did the night of the casino fundraiser, his hair perfectly in place. The only thing off is the worry etched into his brows.

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