Page 72 of Due Diligence

“Sorry about that,” I apologized, nodding at his shirt.

He looked down and canted his head to the side. “It happens,” he offered. “And it’s not a big deal. I’m heading straight home after work anyway. I’ve got to deal with Frank.”

His mention of his corgi made me smile. I was able to force out a soft chuckle, which in turn made Marcus’s expression ease. He reached forward and rubbed his thumb along the bottom of my eyelid.

“Did I mess up my makeup?”

He shook his head. “No, you look incredible.”

It took everything I had not to hold his hand right there, to bring his palm to rest against my cheek. Instead, I exhaled and kept looking into his eyes. “I’m in some debt,” I said after a moment.

The light changed and the Walk sign came on. We headed into the crosswalk and continued walking, but Marcus didn’t stop staring at me. When we reached the sidewalk on the other side, he finally responded, “Well, if only you had an application that tracked all your debts in one place. And unlike other apps that focus primarily on your bank accounts, it sounds like you need an app that integrates all your debts from different sources and then uses deadlines and interest rates to provide you with guidance on how to pay those debts and use free cash flow to maximize long-term savings. God, if only there was an app that did that.”

I probably should have seen it coming. Marcus had just recited the pitch for Libra by heart.

“Libra doesn’t work for me,” I explained. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Of course, he frowned. His app worked for everyone—that was why it was so valuable. An economic report from the federal government even highlighted Libra as one of the key levers to address the student loan crisis in our country.

“It should,” he said. “What’s wrong with it?”

“The lenders I’m trying to repay are my own mother and father.”

“Through a legally binding agreement with repayment terms?”

I shook my head, which intrigued Marcus enough to get him to stop walking. He caught me by my elbow and motioned for me to turn around and speak to him. Reluctantly, I rotated and took a few steps back so we were facing each other right outside of a CVS.

“Do you really want to hear this?” I tucked a flyaway lock of hair behind my ear. “It’s not pretty. It’s pure insipid, rich girl drama.”

“I watch old episodes of Gossip Girl when I fly internationally because it helps to pass the time, so this is right up my alley.”

I paused. “Wait, are you serious?” I inquired, surveying his expression.

Marcus just winked in response.

“Okay, we’lldefinitelybe revisiting that topic at a later date. But for now, let me just ask, do you have any idea how much it costs to raise a spoiled, privileged kid?”

“Well,” he said, glancing upwards as he seemed to tick through some mental math, “those typically aren’t my clientele…but I’m going to just shoot out a number: Let’s say seven hundred and fifty thousand over the course of that kid’s lifetime.”

“Close. When I sat down and did the math, it ended up being nine hundred and eighteen thousand dollars. And that’s precisely how much I intend to pay my parents.”

Silence hanged between the two of us for far longer than I expected. Marcus’s brow tightened more and more with each passing second. After a few beats, he took his hand out of his pocket and brushed his thick hair away from his forehead. “Sorry—did theyaskyou to do that?”

“In a way.”

“Inwhatway?”

I raised a shoulder. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, I’m not a dumbass, so you can try me. Tell me what’s complicated.”

“It’s stupid, honestly.”

“Don’t care,” he insisted. “It’s obviously not stupid if it’s so important to you.”

His expression was unwavering. He kept his eyes on mine and he nodded his head, as if to reassure me he really did care enough to listen to me speak about this.

“Six years ago, right after I graduated from Princeton, I went to law school at Columbia. My parents were expecting me to go to Harvard, so they were surprised I picked Columbia, but I was insistent I wanted to move to New York.”

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