Page 127 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire
A woman who’s appeared next to Frankie’s grandpa says, “Aw,” and rubs his shoulder.
I take a deep breath. Here goes something I haven’t even remotely planned. But at least I know how to tell a story, and this is a story I’m very familiar with—because it’s mine.
“Bear with me while I rewind a little. There’s this man, a property developer, who ripped off my parents when he bought our house when I was a teenager. It left us broke. My two brothers were toddlers at the time. Shortly after that my dad was injured and couldn’t work for months. My mom couldn’t earn enough to cover the bills, so I dropped out of carpentry school to work all the hours I could to keep us housed and fed.”
Some of the people moving toward the door stop and turn around.
“It made me hate that guy, of course. But all my hard work meant my business grew and grew and then, when I was ready to make my first move into building condos, he reared his slimy head again. This time he nearly destroyed my career before it had even taken off by snatching my first land deal out from under me at the lastminute and bad-mouthing me to everyone in the city who mattered.”
Even though I’ve told this story recently to Frankie, running through it again makes the mere memory of that time stick in my throat, and I have to cough before I can continue.
“But I used my hatred of him to fire me up, to succeed in spite of him. And as soon as I became successful, I vowed I’d get my revenge for what he did to my family. That was hard, though, because as all villains do, he operates in a secret vacuum and predicting his next move is almost impossible. But then, for the first time, I got wind of something he was trying to buy before he’d closed the deal—this sanctuary. And I vowed to snap it up to stop him from having what he wanted. It might have been my one and only chance to get him back for all the financial stress and worry he put my parents through. I had to seize it with both hands.”
Sam looks at Frankie, concern etched into his features. “I had no idea about any of this.”
She concentrates on the ground near her feet and gives him a one-shouldered shrug.
Her reaction isn’t particularly encouraging, but I can hardly walk away from this story now.
“So, I found myself here. Pretending to be a volunteer to get me friendly with Frankie.”
There’s a general murmur of disapproval from the audience.
“I hoped I could eventually persuade her that the offer from my company was better than the other guy’s.” I pause to gather myself. “And that’s where everything went wrong.”
Now, I turn my full attention to Frankie,whose eyes are back on me. “Or, actually, I should say, where it all started to go right. This is where I realized I’d become way more like the other guy than I’d realized.”
Frankie’s brow lifts just a tiny fraction as if in agreement. At least she doesn’t look like she’s going to throw me out anymore. And, relatively speaking, that’s a win.
“It was like I’d spent my entire life stumbling around a dusty old room in the dark, then someone turned on the light and I discovered I was actually standing on top of a tower under a bright sky with the whole world and a whole different future at my feet.”
“Beautiful,” the woman with the walker and the pink hat says with a wistful sigh.
“A world and a future with small donkeys that chase you across a field, and big donkeys that scratch their bellies on your head, and anxious donkeys that calm down if you sing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ to them.”
Somewhere near the back of the room a little girl starts singing the song and prompts a general chuckle.
“It’s also the world where I fell for Frankie. Hook, line, and bucket of donkey poop, fell for her.”
Her eyes lock with mine, right as that oh-so-familiar strand of hair that refuses to stay tied back falls across the corner of one of them. Her expression is impossible to read, but at least it no longer screamsgo away, you hateful lying jerk.
“I don’t blame her for throwing me out and never wanting to see me again,” I say to the audience. “But I will live the rest of my life with regret if I don’t give it one last shot. Even if she won’t change her mind—which would be a totally justifiable choice—I’ll know I tried.”
There’s an undertone of agreement and a smattering of quiet clapping.
“So there you go.” I turn back to Frankie. “I want your forgiveness so badly that I’m willing to tell this room full of strangers the awful truth that would make them hate me before they’ve even met me.”
She folds her arms across her chest, but the sharp pointy corners of her expression have softened.
“When I got back to Boston, I realized that I was like one of the unadoptable donkeys you have here. A difficult one that’s impossible to place in a new home. One that would be too loud, trample the crops, cause too much trouble.”
Frankie tugs on a corner of her top lip with her teeth as if trying to hold it down and prevent it from curling upward into one of her half smiles.
“Just like you take in any animal without judgment, open your home and your heart to them regardless of their flaws, you did the same for me. And just like you do with them, you took me in and made me better. Made me ready for my forever home.”
There’s a whimperedooohfrom someone, somewhere.
Now Frankie actually allows her mouth to curve into something very close to a smile, making my heart skip with a beat of hope.
