The Broke Man I Loved Was a Billionaire

HARPER'S POV

The first thing I asked at the hospital was whether I had to pay for the blanket.

A nurse stopped adjusting my blood pressure cuff.

"No, sweetheart."

"I don't have my wallet."

"We'll deal with that later."

The man from the landing sat beside the door. His borrowed sweatshirt was too short at the wrists. A damp canvas shoe rested on the wheelchair's footplate.

He looked up.

"You can keep my coat, too."

"I ruined it."

"It was ugly before."

The nurse almost smiled. I did not, but something inside my chest loosened enough to hurt.

A clinician came after breakfast. She asked direct questions and waited through my silences. I told her about the bridge. I told her I was frightened by what I had done.

Nobody called me dramatic.

By afternoon, we had discussed follow up appointments, people I could call, and somewhere safe to spend the next few days. The woman from the landing had stayed nearby. Her name was Rosa Bell.

"I have a spare room," she said. "Ground floor. No rent while you get your feet under you."

"I can't take your room."

"It's been empty since my nephew discovered love and moved to Oregon. You'd improve the place."

"What about him?"

I looked at the man.

"Adrian," he said. "And my room is next door, in the boathouse cottage. Separate building. Rosa runs the civilized part of the property."

"That's generous," Rosa said. "I was going to say he occupies it."

I looked between them.

They sounded practiced. Familiar.

Safe was a word on the paper in my lap. I wanted to know what it felt like somewhere outside a hospital.

"Can I change my mind?"

"At any time," Adrian said.

Rosa nodded. "You can also lock your door."

Rosa asked whether there was anyone I wanted her to call. I thought of Mom's name at the top of my contacts.

"No family nearby," I said.

"A friend?"

I shook my head.

Adrian looked at the discharge papers instead of my face.

"Then we can start with the numbers they gave you."

"You make that sound normal."

"It is normal to need people."

The nurse placed a small card in my hand.

"If tonight gets difficult, call. You don't have to wait until it becomes an emergency."

I tucked it into my phone case. It was a practical thing to do. I needed practical things more than beautiful promises just then.

I signed where the nurse showed me. A hospital advocate helped me arrange the next appointment and gave me numbers to keep. I saved them before I stood.

Adrian waited while I did it.

He never asked what had happened on the bridge.

At Rosa's, a yellow mug sat beside a bowl of soup.

I stared at the steam.

"Too hot?" she asked.

"No."

"Bad soup?"

"I don't know yet."

"Excellent. My reputation survives."

She placed bread on a plate and left to answer a call in the kitchen.

Adrian remained across the small table. The wheelchair barely fitted between a cabinet and the wall. He maneuvered without complaint, though his jaw tightened when his left foot shifted.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes."

"I'm sorry."

"You haven't touched it."

"I mean that you have to use the chair."

He glanced down. "It's useful at the moment."

I assumed the careful answer meant he did not want questions.

I knew how that felt.

"My boyfriend filmed me yesterday," I said.

Adrian set his spoon down.

"While I was upset. People from work saw it."

"You don't have to explain anything today."

"If someone calls you, saying I'm unstable..."

He waited.

"I need you to know I wasn't always like that."

"Being hurt doesn't make you a liar."

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.

"He said she didn't mean it."

"Who?"

"Vivian. My best friend."

The words sounded ridiculous now.

Adrian looked toward the kitchen doorway, giving me room to stop.

I kept going.

"She spilled my mother's ashes. Then she turned on the fan."

His expression changed. It was small, a stillness around his mouth, but I saw it.

"He recorded me trying to save them."

For several seconds, only the refrigerator made a sound.

Then Adrian said, "I'm sorry."

I waited for the rest.

Maybe she panicked.

Maybe he was frightened.

What did you do first?

Nothing followed.

I touched the chipped edge of the mug.

"I don't have anything to bury."

"Would you like me to sit here?"

I nodded.

He sat while I cried into Rosa's clean blanket. He did not touch me without asking. He did not tell me that my mother was watching or that things happened for a reason.

When I could breathe properly, he pushed the tissue box within reach.

"Do you want the soup reheated?"

"Please."

"Rosa," he called, "we've reached the verdict. The soup deserves another chance."

A laugh escaped me, thin and surprised.

It vanished quickly.

I looked ashamed of it before I could stop myself.

Adrian shook his head.

"You're allowed."

Later, Rosa showed me the bedroom. There was a lamp shaped like a pear, a narrow bed, and a quilt with one crooked yellow square.

"Bathroom's across the hall. Towels are yours. Adrian's usually awake obscenely early, but you don't have to be."

"Does he work?"

"Too much, when nobody stops him."

"What does he do?"

"Mostly argues on the telephone."

She handed me the door key.

I turned it over in my palm.

"Why are you helping me?"

Rosa's expression softened.

"Because you needed help, and we were there."

When she left, I took out my phone.

Twenty seven missed calls.

Nolan had sent a message.

This performance has gone far enough. Come home.

Another followed.

Vivian is afraid you'll hurt yourself to punish us.

I turned the screen facedown.

A knock came.

"Harper?" Adrian called. "Rosa sent tea."

I opened the door.

He held the mug with both hands to keep it from spilling. His sleeves were frayed. A grocery receipt lay on his lap, the total circled in pencil.

Twenty eight dollars and fourteen cents.

"I'll pay you back," I said.

"For the tea?"

"For everything."

His eyes moved to the receipt.

Then back to me.

"Tomorrow, you could tell me whether my toast is edible."

"I can do that."

"Good. I need an honest opinion. Rosa's been protecting my feelings."

From the kitchen, Rosa shouted, "I have never done that."

This time, my smile stayed a little longer.

Adrian noticed, then looked away before it could feel like something I owed him.

I put the tea on the dresser.

"Your last name," I said. "In case the hospital needs it."

"Reed."

"Harper Ellis."

"I know."

"The nurse told you?"

"You told Rosa. On the landing."

I remembered his open hand. My fingers closing around it.

"Thank you for staying."

"You're welcome."

He began to turn the chair.

"Adrian?"

He stopped.

"I don't know how to do tomorrow."

His face held no pity.

"Breakfast at eight," he said. "We can start there."

After he left, I saved the appointment reminder, plugged in my phone, and put the key beside the bed.

Then I set an alarm for morning.