Page 73 of The Billionaire's Shrubbery

29. Will

LOCKED IN A TOWER

Virginia tries to twist out from under my arm, but I hold her down. I can’t face her for this conversation.

This entire night has been a case study in why a long-term relationship with anyone who can’t fully accept and embrace my lifestyle will never work.

Virginia will never be happy living the way I have for my adult life, locked in a climate-controlled tower except when I’m traveling and then locked in private jets and luxury hotels. She’d never be happy giving up the freedom she has to explore forest trails without an entourage or to literally stop and smell the flowers when she’s out walking in a park.

And I would never ask her to give that up since she wouldn’t be Virginia without dirt under her fingernails and twigs in that mess of red hair she prefers to leave wild.

I reach up and try to touch her head. But she shakes it and enunciates, “No. Will, let me go.”

The irony of her statement is not lost on me; that is precisely what I’m trying to find the words to do. I don’t speak until she relaxes into my hug.

“There’s a quote I never thought I’d say. But it’s playing on repeat, so I guess—”

“Will.” She twists again. “Pull off the fucking Band-Aid.”

I’ve never heard her swear in anger.

“If you love someone, set them free,” I say, cringing both at how lame that sounds and how apropos of the situation.

Her shoulder thrusts upward into my armpit and I recoil. She’s free, feet hitting the floor with a thud.

Virginia stares down at me, hands on her hips.

“I’m not sure how to interpret this. You hold me in a bear trap and then say if you love someone, set them free. So, are you telling me in some fucked-up way that you don’t love me? Is that what’s happening here?”

I pull myself up, my back against the headboard, and turn on the reading light so I can see her better. An inferno blazes in her eyes.

“You know I love you. But this weekend, hanging out like a normal person … this was a one-off thing. You know that, right? It’s not my life. And as long as you’re with me, it can’t be yours, either.”

I expect her to cry, to see tears. But fire and water don’t mix, and the flames are winning. She stomps to the dresser and yanks out one of my T-shirts, pulls it over her head, then crosses her arms.

“Nope.” That’s all she says.

Is she agreeing with or challenging me? I can’t tell from the single syllable. I know if I wait, she’ll clarify.

Virginia walks back and forth a few times at the foot of the bed, staring at the floor, shaking her head, muttering. She stops and points at me.

“I have just spent the last four months convincing you that your name did not come with a predetermined date on your death certificate. Do you have any idea how much fun thatwasn’t?”

“I—”

“That was a rhetorical question, Will. It was hell. Seeing you suffer was hell. And because it hurt me so much to see such a smart, kind, generous, funny man in so much pain, I did everything I could to help you.BeforeI fell in love with you.”

She turns away, faces the wall.

“Virginia—”

She spins. “I’m not done. You knew my story. You knew the one thing—theonething—that would hurt me most would be to be dropped because I’m not good enough for a man who has everything. You know that, Will. And I trusted that because I told you my biggest fear you would act with—I don’t know, integrity? Or is it just plain old fucking human kindness?”

She stops and inhales a jagged breath. I hold mine.

“Well?” she asks.

“Um, sorry, so that wasn’t a rhetorical question?”

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