Page 117 of Due Diligence

“I don’t read as fast as you.”

“That still doesn’t mean you can’t read.”

Marcus let out an exhale and closed his eyes. “Read me something then.”

Shaking my head, I took the book from him. His bare skin was warm against mine and he snuggled against me. “No way. I’m not reading you Borges while you’re drunk.”

“Read me your favorite one.”

I leaned over and kissed his hair. “If you ask me again when you’re sober, I’ll do it.”

“No, you know what? Tell me which one is your favorite. I’ll read it on my own time.”

“We both know you won’t.”

“I absolutely will. If there’s anything to know about me, about this guy,” he said, gesturing at himself again, “it’s that when I say I’ll do something, you better believe I’m going to do it.”

“Fine.” I lowered myself in the bed so I could turn to face him. “The story is called ‘Funes the Memorious.’”

Just like I knew he would, Marcus pulled his eyebrows together. “Were any of those real words?”

“The character is named Funes. And he’s blessed and cursed with the ability to remember everything.”

Even drunk off his ass, Marcus was perceptive enough to make the connection. He reached out and rested his hand on my cheek. For several seconds, I leaned into the warm caress of his hand and I felt at ease. “It’s not a curse, Cass,” he said.

I found myself drawing away from him, but he caught me and pulled me back into his arms. Part of me wanted to protest,but his skin felt so good against my cheek and his grip felt so commanding and protective.

“Nope,” he said softly. “Don’t you shut down on me. We don’t do that with each other. Not anymore.”

“Marcus—”

“Tell me the good parts,” he continued. “Something about it, your memory—your fucking incredible mind—is worthwhile. Tell me.”

“My childhood was horrible.”

His arms wrapped more tightly around me. “So was mine. And we don’t have to talk about our childhoods today, Cass. But tell me something good. Tell me what you like to remember. Do you like remembering me?”

I nodded. “I love it. I need something to overpower that memory I have of us ten years ago, when I said those horrible things.”

Marcus kissed me, brief and sweet. “Why’d you say that to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

He was right. Deep down, I did know.

“Jealousy,” I said after a beat. “I said that thing to you because I was jealous of you. I would have doneanythingto drop out of Princeton at that point in my life.”

“To do what?”

I shrugged. “Who knows. Start a business? You did it and I envy you all the time. You work for yourself, you make a real difference…I know things have changed, but at some point you must have been so proud of what you accomplished.”

Marcus was quiet. His hands stayed on my body, warm and gentle as he caressed my skin.

“Did something happen today?” I asked. “With the ledgers? You ran out of the office and then the next time I saw you, you were the drunkest I’ve ever seen you.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s just…” Marcus breathed out through his nostrils. “You know I’ve always cared about Libra, right? And I wasn’t in it for anything but making a positive impact on other people’s lives. That’s what it was about for me—what everything was about for me. Everyone deserves a chance to make their life better, and debt can’t be an insurmountable punishment.”

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