Page 63 of The Devil Gets His Due

What. The. Hell.

The guy who was too cheap to get a chocolate fountain or tequila luge for our party is worth a hundred million. The guy who doesn’t own a car. The guy who bitched about the cost of the green juice I wanted this weekend and keeps telling me I don’t need both NetflixandHulu.

I’ve known loads of millionaires and every last one of them flashed his wealth somehow. More importantly, I’ve never known one who didn’t think it made him special, who wasn’t under the impression his money exempted him from taking out the trash or carrying his own plate to the sink.

I slam my laptop shut and bury my face in my hands. I thought success was an attractive quality in a man, but it’s got nothing on the discovery that Graham has it in spades...and couldn’t care less.

NYC’s SexiestSingle is forced to wait for nearly forty minutes outside my office, because I’m so backed up…and that’swithme telling Trinny I couldn’t take Dr. Joliet’s six o’clock.

“I’m sorry,” I say, rushing out to the car, still in my lab coat.

“You’ve got to tell them,” he says as he pulls into traffic. “Seriously. This is insane.”

I sigh. “I know.”

“I mean it, Keeley. What’s the worst that can happen if you tell them? You don’t even like that job.”

I frown at him. “Oh, maybe I hadn’t mentioned this, but I’m actually about to have a child. It’s not a great time for me to beunemployed.”

“I’m not Jeff Bezos, but I can afford—” He circles his hand over me and my stomach. “—all this. If you want to just quit and wait until you find something.”

I laugh. I spent every free minute today researching Graham Tate. I now know he’s the guy billionaires entrust with their finances, and that there’s an entire subreddit devoted toWhat Graham Tate is Buying.I’ll continue to imply he does something with insurance, though. It keeps him on his toes.

“I appreciate the offer,” I reply, “but I think that would go poorly.”

He rolls his eyes. “Why?”

I can’t believe he’s arguing. Only a fool would offer to support me while I look for a job. He’s got to know I’d just sleep in until eleven and shop all day.

“Because then our power isn’t equal. The second you’re paying the bills, you’ll be like ‘No, Keeley, we can’t buy a Silver Cross stroller.’”

“I alreadytoldyou we’re not buying a Silver Cross. Fourteen hundred dollars for a fucking stroller. It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but right now I still can say, ‘oh, screw you, Graham, I just bought one.’ If you’re footing all the bills, I can’t do that.”

“I’m guessing you’d still manage to do that,” he mutters.

When the cemetery comes into view, he pulls into the spot closest to the gates. “I can just wait in the car,” he says. “Take your time.”

I reach over and unclip his seat belt. “Nah, come on. It takes two people to operate the Ouija board I brought.”

He laughs and climbs out, following me across the rolling hills to my mother’s headstone.

“So, this is it,” I say brightly. “Pretty exciting stuff. And that’s my aunt.” I point to her grave, which is right next to my mom’s.

He reads each headstone, his gaze growing darker by the minute. It’s different, seeing it in person. “They were my age,” he says quietly.

I nod. “My poor grandfather. He outlived his wife and both his daughters. I can’t even imagine.”

He glances over to my mom’s grave. “Is he the one who left the flowers?”

“No, those are from Dillon, the guy my mom was dating at the end.” I shake my head. “He still brings her flowers for every occasion. It’s kind of fucked up.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“He was twenty-eight when she died. He had his whole life ahead of him but never moved on, and if she’d lived, well, she probablywouldhave moved on. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just easier to think she would have.”

He takes my hand and pulls me over to the bench on the other side of the gravel path. “Why is it easier to think that?”

---