The Broke Man I Loved Was a Billionaire

HARPER'S POV

Rosa paid me in an envelope with my name spelled correctly.

That should not have mattered as much as it did.

At Brighton, my name had disappeared from proposals the moment Vivian presented them. Here, a hundred and eighty dollars and five neat letters made me sit at the kitchen table until my eyes stopped stinging.

"The sailing club wants you next month," Rosa said.

"They haven't seen an invoice."

"They asked for one."

I took a breath. "I'll send it."

Adrian rolled in carrying a paper bag between his knees.

"I brought something."

"If it's another screwdriver, I'm leaving."

He placed the bag on the table.

Inside lay a secondhand desk lamp.

"The switch works," he said. "I checked."

"You bought this for me?"

"For the table. You've been squinting at seating charts."

"How much?"

"Six dollars."

I took out my envelope.

His expression changed.

"Harper."

"You can't keep spending money on me."

He glanced toward Rosa. She had become suspiciously interested in the sink.

"I can afford six dollars."

"That's not the point."

"What is?"

"I need to be able to stay here without feeling like a debt is growing."

He considered my answer instead of dismissing it.

Then he held out his hand.

"Three dollars. Shared ownership."

"You'll use it?"

"I have terrible handwriting. I could use the light."

"Were you always careful with money?" I asked.

"No."

"What changed?"

"I discovered how many things people call emergencies when someone else is paying."

I looked at the envelope in my lap.

"Nolan once said buying my mother a better mattress was an emotional expense."

"Was the old one uncomfortable?"

"She couldn't sleep on it."

"Then it sounds like a mattress expense."

I laughed, then stopped.

"I paid for it anyway."

"Good."

"He said that was why I never had savings."

Adrian's face tightened.

"What?"

"Nothing you did wrong."

I counted three dollars onto the table, leaving the rest safely inside the envelope.

"I want to buy my own things again. Even small things."

"Then tell me when I'm getting in the way."

"You won't be angry?"

"I might be embarrassed."

"That sounds manageable."

"I hope so," he said, watching my hands.

I gave him three dollars.

He put the coins in his pocket with a gravity that made me smile.

"Pleasure doing business."

I set the lamp beside my laptop, which Hannah Price, the lawyer the advocate recommended, had arranged for Rosa to collect. Nolan had left the recipe box behind. Hannah was still asking for it.

There was one message on the laptop from Lila at Brighton.

I should have said something in the group. I'm sorry.

I closed it without answering.

Adrian noticed.

"Bad news?"

"An apology."

"Those can be bad news."

"I don't know what to do with it."

"You could wait."

"You're very fond of waiting."

"Depends what for."

His eyes stayed on mine a second too long.

Rosa dropped a spoon.

"Terrible coordination," she announced.

I turned toward the window, hiding my face.

By evening, I had sent two invoices and a short proposal for a wedding breakfast. Rosa photographed the sailing club tables for her business page.

"All right to credit you?" she asked.

I hesitated.

The old video still existed somewhere. I wanted there to be something else attached to my name.

"Yes. Just the tables."

"No people," she agreed.

Adrian sat nearby, sanding a wooden tray by hand.

"Do you mind being associated with my questionable lighting?" he asked.

"Your lights behaved."

"I'm hoping for a reference."

"Three stars. One deducted for attempted pancake repair."

"Harsh."

"Fair."

He brushed dust from the tray.

"Would you have dinner with me?"

My pencil stopped.

"We've had dinner together every night."

"I know. This one would be on purpose."

Rosa suddenly remembered an urgent errand.

The door closed behind her.

Adrian looked at me steadily.

"You can say no."

"I know."

I did know. That was the strange part.

"What are you making?"

"Sandwiches. I've learned my limits."

"Then yes."

We carried dinner onto the sheltered landing behind the cottage. The river moved beneath us, dark but quiet. I stopped in the doorway.

Adrian saw.

"We can eat inside."

I looked at the bench, the solid railing, the porch light.

"Can we keep the door open?"

"Of course."

I sat with my back to the water.

He placed the tray on a low table and moved his chair beside it, leaving enough room that I could stand without asking him to move.

The sandwiches were slightly uneven.

"You cut off the crusts."

"Rosa said you left them yesterday."

"I wasn't hungry."

"Ah. My investigative work has failed."

"Don't worry. I'll eat the evidence."

He laughed, and I wanted to hear it again.

We talked about ordinary things. He hated mushrooms. I liked terrible disaster movies. He could mend a chair but could not fold a fitted sheet.

"Nobody can," I said.

"My grandmother could."

"Your grandmother sounds intimidating."

"She was five feet tall and once chased a contractor down the drive with his own invoice."

"Did he deserve it?"

"Completely."

I picked a loose thread from my sleeve.

"Did she live here?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you stayed?"

"Partly."

"And the other part?"

He looked at the tray.

"I wanted somewhere people didn't arrive with a request already prepared."

"That sounds lonely."

"It became lonely."

"Did someone hurt you?"

His hand tightened around the glass.

"Someone I loved made private things public. Then other people decided they wanted a share."

"Like a secret?"

"Like being close to me was something they could sell."

I nodded slowly.

He had less than Nolan. A small cottage. A worn chair. A receipt he checked carefully.

But I understood being valuable only for what someone could take.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Thank you."

The wind lifted my hair. A strand caught on a splinter in the bench, and I winced.

"May I?"

I nodded.

He freed it gently.

His fingers brushed my cheek.

Neither of us moved.

I could see the faint shadow of a scar beneath his chin. His mouth was close enough that I stopped pretending I had not thought about it.

"I want to kiss you," he said.

The honesty left me breathless.

"I want that, too."

"But?"

"I don't know how much of me is ready."

His hand fell away immediately.

"Then we wait."

I swallowed.

"You're not offended?"

"No."

"Nolan used to say..."

I stopped.

Adrian waited again.

"I don't want him at this table," I said.

"Then we can talk about mushrooms."

I laughed.

He smiled, and the moment became something I could keep without fear.

When we went inside, I touched his shoulder.

"Thank you for dinner."

"Three stars?"

"Four."

"What earns the fifth?"

"I'll let you know."

My phone lit up while I washed the glasses.

Rosa's business post had three new inquiries.

There was also a message from Nolan.

Found your little hideout.

Below it was the photograph of my tables.

The location tag read Bell's Boathouse.

Then another message arrived.

I'll collect you tomorrow.

I stared at the screen until Adrian said my name.

For the first time all evening, I could not make myself answer.