“What did my dad say to you?” she asks. “In the kitchen?”
“How did you know he said something?”
“Your knuckles are white.”
I loosen my grip. “He asked if being with me was going to help your career or make people think you're only successful because you're dating a billionaire.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“The truth. That I don't know. That there's risk. But also that you're exceptional with or without me. That anyone who can't see that is an idiot.”
“Evan—”
“He's right to worry. I've been so focused on who I should introduce you to that I haven't thought about how it might look. What assumptions people might make.”
“People are going to make assumptions regardless,” she says. “That's not your fault.”
“But it's my world. My wealth. My connections.” I pause. “If it hurts you?—”
“It won't.” She says it with certainty. “Because I'm good at what I do. Like you said, anyone who sees my work will know I earned my success.”
I turn to look at her. “You're sure?”
“I'm sure.” She pauses. “And honestly? If someone's going to judge me for dating someone wealthy, they weren't someone I wanted to work with anyway.”
A beat of silence passes. We are almost back to the city.
“My dad likes you,” Holly says.
“How can you tell?”
“He asked you hard questions. He only does that with people he thinks might stick around.”
I keep my eyes on the road. “And if I want to stick around?”
“Then you'll have to endure more family dinners where my niece announces your net worth to the table.”
“That seems fair.”
A few minutes later, I pull up to her apartment building.
“Tuesday,” I say. “Still picking you up at six? First official fake date in my world, a dinner with the board president. Do I know romance or what?”
“Every girl’s dream,” she says. “
Six is fine.” She reaches for the door handle, then pauses.
“Thank you, Evan. For tonight. For coming to dinner, for handling the billionaire thing, for—” She stops. “Thank you.”
“Holly, you don’t need to keep thanking me.”
“Yes, I do.” She opens the door, cold air rushing in. “Because you keep showing up. And that matters.”
Then she's gone—heading into her building. I sit in my car and watch her disappear through the lobby doors. Why did I have to remind her that this is fake?
* * *
I'm in my apartment, jacket off, when my phone buzzes.
