Page 10 of The Billionaire's Pact

“Yes, she’s going there,” I said with a rise in my tone. “Cassidy’s popular and friendly, but also academically earnest. She’s an outstanding student.”

“She only graduated Magna Cum Laude,” Mrs. Belfiore chirped. “But she’s a legacy.”

I bit my cheek. A few of her professors had announced that they never awarded top grades, and she only missed Summa Cum Laude by a minuscule amount of points. Not that my grandmother would listen.

“I’m sure your husband is missing you in Connecticut,” Mrs. Belfiore told Mama. “Perhaps you should go back now.”

“We agreed I’d be there to meet Adelina’s potential in-laws.”

“You told her?” Mrs. Belfiore asked, her tone abrupt. “Your father wanted to discuss it with her first. It’s Adelina’s graduation, her personal achievement. Couldn’t you have waited?”

My mouth went dry. I hadn’t expected her acknowledgement or concern.

“I’m sorry, I suppose I was too excited to hold back the news,” Mama said in a cheery tone. “I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

My lips spread into a plastic grin. “I already suspected it, anyway. Mr. Belfiore always keeps his word.”

Mrs. Belfiore reached over and patted my hand. “He does. You can count on it.”

We arrived late at my grandparents’ home. But at least we had made it within the window of time Cindy had set for me to chat with Jacob. He wanted to congratulate me on my graduation.

I connected the computer and waited for him to appear. Our eyes were the same shade of deep blue, and his hair was styled like mine when I was fourteen, in a crewcut. His wheelchair was a newer one than last time.

I grinned and signed, “Hey, Jacob. What happened to your old chair?”

He signed back, “It broke.”

“It was damaged during a trip,” Cindy answered. “They didn’t properly store it.”

“I’m sorry, Jacob,” I signed and said to him.

Jacob made the sign that meant, “No worries.” Then he signed, “You finally graduated?”

I nodded while smiling. “I graduated.” My hand trembled as I showed off the degree.

“In art, like me?” he signed.

“Global studies,” I told him.

“Should have been art,” he signed back.

“Jacob,” I drawled out and signed, “You’re the artist.” I stared at him again; he was sweating and a little dark around his eyes. “Are you sleeping?”

Cindy wiped his chin. “Not as well. The doctor wants to try a new medication.”

I bobbed my head. “I hope you feel better. I have your paintings and will keep them with me.”

“You should send me some of yours,” Jacob spelled out. “So I can tell you how to improve it.”

He giggled, and I joined in laughing.

“We have to go,” Cindy announced. “Sorry, this call wasn’t scheduled and I—”

“I understand, Cindy,” I told her. “Thank you for doing it.”

“I love you, Lina,” Jacob signed and my eyes stung.

I signed and said, “I love you, too,” and expanded my hands to include the world, and in that world we were together, instead of always apart.

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