The Billionaire's Deal: The Complete Story: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (26 page)

Meryl lies in her hospital bed. Her face is still some strange pale yellow. She looks weak and tired, but she looks happy, too.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing up so early?" she asks.

I pull up a chair next to her bed and get comfortable. I'm going to be here a while. "Visiting hours started three minutes ago."

"I'll forgive the delay." She looks me over carefully. Her eyes fix on my unadorned left hand. "You're no longer obligated to visit me."

"I was never obligated." I squeeze my purse handle. "You've been so kind to me. You really accepted me as your daughter-in-law. I'm sorry that I can't be... that Blake and I won't..."

Her brow furrows. "What happened?"

"I can't bother you with my relationship problems."

She scoffs. "Sweetie, I'd prefer anything to thinking that I'm lying in a hospital bed with a terminal illness. Talk to me." She grabs the bed's remote control and adjusts it so she's mostly upright. "I can help. I know my son."

"Then you know the problem."

Meryl frowns. "He said you got into a fight about the wedding. He wanted to move it up. You thought that was a transparent attempt to appease his poor dying mother."

I can't help but smile. She has a damn good sense of humor. "Did he really say all that?"

"I read between the lines." She sips her glass of orange juice. "He says it's a fight and that you'll make up soon. But from the look on your face..."

There's a look on my face? God damn Sterling ability to read people. I try to smile, but this time it's not coming naturally. "It's unlikely."

"Was anything he said true?"

Tension stirs inside me. No more lying. Meryl deserves the truth now. "It's his version of it." I stare at the white tile floor. No way, not good enough. Meryl deserves better than that. "He and I never... he never..."

"Sweetheart, I know you were pretending."

My heart is beating so fucking loud. "What?"

Meryl offers a sly smile. "I don't know the details, but I can tell. It's almost sweet. I never realized he cared so much about making me happy."

"He does." My gaze goes right back to the floor. Such a plain pattern. Scuffed with ugly white lines. "And he's stubborn."

"Very."

I make eye contact with Meryl. It's disarming, but I manage to maintain it. "How did you know?"

"The boy doesn't have an impulsive bone in his body. If he really was seeing someone, I'd have known about it months ago."

Something in me relaxes. It's not that he's incapable of love. At least, she doesn't believe he's incapable of it. Or she's sparing my feelings. I nod. "Part of it was true. We met when I was leaving an interview, and he offered me the job. Or maybe it's a role. Whatever it is." I pluck the stray threads from my purse's handle. "I feel awful about lying to you."

"Don't. You get something good in exchange for this?"

"Really good."

"Sweetie, as far as I'm concerned, we never had this conversation. Take Blake back, marry him, divorce him, and take him to the cleaners."

"We signed a prenup."

"And how much would you get?"

I hold my purse against my stomach. "A lot."

Meryl raises a brow. "He won't miss whatever he offered you." She pushes herself up so she can lean closer. "It's a hard world for women. You have to use whatever you have to get yours. You're beautiful, smart, and a damn good liar."

"You really want me to lie to your son so I can divorce him and take his money?"

"It was his idea."

"Apple sure doesn’t fall far from the tree." I laugh. God, this whole thing is absurd. My life was a lot easier two months ago, before I met Blake. But it was a hell of a lot less interesting. "I really wish I could."

She grabs my wrist. Her eyes get serious. "Honey, you can. And you should. You two would be much happier than Fiona and Trey are."

"Probably."

"Of course, she hasn't been happy since she was Homecoming Queen." Meryl shakes her head. "My kids, my problem. They don't know what it's like to grow up with nothing. We were never rich, but their father did well. He spoiled them rotten. And he was insured to the hilt." Her expression softens. "They're successful. What every mom is supposed to want. God. I'm a cliché, whining about the state of my children's marriages, or lack thereof."

My stomach is twisted and torn. This confession isn't exactly freeing us. Maybe Blake was right and it was better to lie. Better to die happy believing a lie...

I study Meryl's expression, trying my best Sterling stare. Her eyes are especially yellow but they're also alight with a certain liveliness. Her lips are turned into a smile. She is happy, especially considering the circumstances.

"You want the truth?" I ask.

"Of course, sweetheart."

"I'm an idiot not to marry Blake. That money could be my ticket. I could spent ten years in school and another ten traveling the world. But I won't be able to do any of it with my heart broken."

Her eyes open wide. She leans closer. Crap, now I'm really on the hook to deliver.

"I love Blake. I love him, and he's never going to fall in love with me. I can't live like that, constantly wanting him in a way I'll never have him. It would kill me."

"Oh sweetie." She pats my arm. "I'm sorry."

I prepare myself to blink back a tear—this whole love thing really has me in pieces—but it doesn't come. I'm too tired, too numb, too something.

"You have to take care of yourself." Meryl studies me. She pulls her arm to her side. "Do me a favor and run down to the gift shop."

"Sure."

"You have cash?"

I nod.

"Get me the trashiest romance novel you can find. And get yourself a cup of coffee. You look like hell."

A laugh escapes my lips. It's still a surprise that I can manage to laugh at a time like this. "You got it."

"Blake would take great care of you," she says.

"Yeah, but that's not enough."

***

I buy Meryl one copy of each romance in here—there are only three—and buy myself a can of iced coffee. Funny, there are four different kinds of iced coffee. Anything is fine with me. Anything but vanilla.

It's a short walk to Meryl's room. I keep my gaze on the floor. These white tiles are everywhere, reflecting the fluorescent lights with an ugly glare.

Room 302. I reach for the door.

Shit.

Blake is here.

He's in jeans and a t-shirt. Messy hair. Bags under his eyes. Hell, he looks worse than I do.

I step inside with my best
I don't give a damn my ex is here swagger.
Blake and Meryl stare at me, him with a tiny hint of desperation, her with pity.

I hand Meryl her books. "I should get going. I'll come back tomorrow."

Blake stares at me. "Kat."

"I have a lot of work to do. Deadlines for my applications." I press the can of coffee against the inside of my wrist. Freezing. It sends a chill straight to my spine. "I hope you feel better."

She nods. "You too."

I turn, pull the door open, and step into the hallway. No looking back. No entertaining the idea of walking to Blake. It's only a few hundred feet to the hospital entrance. I can be home in time to have brunch with Lizzy.

"Kat, wait." Blake's voice booms in the hallway.

Crap. My intentions to avoid him crumble. That voice is so intoxicating. I want it surrounding me. I want it any way I can have it. I want his laugh, scream, groan. Anything.

"Forget about moving up the wedding," he says. "Let's do it as planned, next week at the gardens. I wanted to marry you."

Oomph. This time last month, those words meant nothing to me. Now they're fucking music. They're poetry.

But they're also a lie.

"I'm sorry, Blake, but I can't do that."

His fingers brush my wrist. "There must be some way I can change your mind."

Warmth fills my body. Damn thing is against me. "There is."

"Well?"

I turn and take in his expression. It's the strangest mix of sadness and steel. The guy is going to hell over this, but he's still a God damn automatons.

"It's not a possibility," I say.

His voice is strong and deep. "Anything is a possibility."

I shake my head. "This is one thing you can't negotiate." Small step backwards. "Let Meryl know I'll see her tomorrow."

"Kat."

"Take care of yourself." I turn and march towards the door, trying not to hear him call my name again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Loverboy sent a gift." Lizzy points to a small package on the kitchen table.

"What are you doing up?" I ask.

"Heard you leave." She taps her fingers against the table. "So..."

I copy her annoyed tone. "So..."

She nods to the package. "I made coffee." She slurps her coffee as if to punctuate her claim. "French roast."

I pour myself a cup and sit at the table. No sense in giving my sister what she wants. It's fun making her wait.

And I'm not exactly prepared for whatever this is.

I study the package the best I can without actually touching it. Smaller than a shoebox. It's wrapped in a plain grey paper. God, the paper suits him. A perfect slate grey. Modern and clean like his office.

There's a pink bow on it. Not like the guy wrapped the thing himself, but it's still an obvious touch. Even if pink is my favorite color. Even if it's the whole theme of our sham wedding.

Even if it
was
the theme of our wedding.

Lizzy sighs. "I'm opening it."

"Don't you dare."

She raises her eyebrows. "I already read the card."

"And?"

She grabs the card—a folded grey thing that blends into the paper perfectly—and holds it to her chest. "Not sure if he wrote it before you dumped his sorry ass."

My stomach flip-flops. Fine. I'll read the damn card. I grab it from Lizzy's hands.

Kat,

I hope this gets your mind off things. If it's not enough, my way is a lot more fun.

Sincerely,

Blake

Sincerely. Great, I'm a sincerely. Not a surprise, but still not very pleasant.

I unwrap the present carefully. It's a hardcover copy of
Ghost World
, a special print with the entire comic and the screenplay from the film. I flip it open and—

It's signed.

It's signed to me.

My heart races. No good. I close the book and push it to the center of the table. Coffee. I need to drink this coffee. I take a long sip. French roast. Black. Strong. Hint of vanilla.

Just like what was on his lips after the pool.

Fuck. It's not working.

"Hey... Kat..." Lizzy's voice is sing-song.

"Yeah?"

"Want me to get out of here so you can have a booty call?"

"No." I move the hardcover to our bookshelf. Something to look at when it doesn't immediately make me think of Blake. "I want to have brunch with my sister."

She smirks. "You want a booty call at his place."

"No, Lizzy. I broke off our engagement last night, and his mom is in the hospital. It's not the time for a damn booty call. Okay?"

She slumps in her chair. "I was just kidding."

"Sorry, I haven't slept."

"So can we go to the brunch place that doesn't card?" she asks.

"No way in hell."

***

Brunch is quiet. I eat a full plate of stuffed French toast and spend the afternoon napping with my sketchbook pressed against my chest.

Lizzy makes dinner. She's not the best cook in the world, but neither am I. We eat in front of the TV. Still quiet. Maybe she's reeling, too. Her life is going to be different soon. She'll be on another coast entirely.

She resigns herself to studying, and I spread out on my bed with my sketchbook. I've been working on all these tiny little comics—four or six or even ten panels. When I lay them side my side, they fit together somehow. They're kind of like
Ghost World
, actually. Little vignettes about life refusing to stay the same.

It's been changing all this time. It's not just before the accident and after the accident. Every day is different. Every day, I'm different. Meeting Blake...

That's just speeding things along.

I get to work on another series of vignettes. There is so much I want to capture, but I'm not good enough yet. The pictures in my head don't come our right on paper. I need training. I need experience.

It's not too late to reverse my decisions. It's not too late to take Blake's money to pay for school. But that feels wrong. There are other ways. Need based scholarships. Loans. I'll figure it out.

Between checking school deadlines and working on my comic, I lose track of time. Lizzy wishes me goodnight. Promises to check on me before she leaves for school tomorrow. My phone beeps with a low battery warning. I go to plug it in when I see—

Blake: Kat, call me. I need to talk about Meryl.

It's only an hour or two old and there's a missed call to go with it. Crap. I hope it's not too late.

I dial Blake and hold the phone to my ear. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.

"Kat," he answers. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Can you tell me what's going on?" I dig my fingers into the phone. "I mean, thank you for the book."

"It's supposed to be an early wedding present."

"Thanks anyway." Not like I got him anything.

"You like it?" There's this hint of vulnerability in his voice, like it would crush him if I didn't like it.

I clear my throat. "Very much." My stomach feels light. There's too much going on. Way too much. "What's happening with Meryl?"

His breath catches. "Kat..." It's hopeless.

Shit. That's bad. I've never heard or seen Blake rattled. Not really. I try my best
it's going to be okay
voice. "Yeah?"

"She's going home tonight." He's totally despondent.

Home is supposed to be good. You go to the hospital, you get better, you go home. That's how it works. Deep breath. Everything is going to be okay. "What does that mean?" I ask.

"It's hospice care. She only has a few days."