I looked at the picture and didn’t have to be any more specific than that.
A beat of silence. Then, he finally said, “college.”
“I read that you dropped out of college like all the real tech bros.”
“I amnota tech bro,” he said, disdainfully. “But yes, I did leave when it was no longer useful for me. That was my junior year. I met Allison sophomore year.”
“Did she drop out with you?”
He smiled then. A fond memory smile. It was strange how it changed his face to something less severe. More traditionally handsome.
“Hell, no. She was furious with me when I quit. We fought about it a lot. She stayed and got her degree. She wanted to be a teacher. She was a teacher.”
“The teacher and the billionaire. That’s a nice story. Plus, she liked you before you had money. Which meant she liked you for who you really are.”
“Please try and contain your astonishment,” he drawled.
I could see it. Sometimes there were glimpses of the man he was, through the sadness. Sarcastic, a little too smug, but funny. At ease in his own skin. Enough that I knew he was more than what he showed the world.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it,” I said.
It was a lot, really. He’d been a sophomore in college when Allison saw him and fell in love with him. For who he was and not for what he’d become, because she had no idea. Or maybe she did. She’d given him shit about quitting college. Enough that it made him smile all these years later thinking about it.
“Most people want to know about the accident,” he said, softly.
“Most people aren’t me,” I reminded him. “Why would anyone want to take you back there?”
“Thank you.”
I leaned over and plucked my laptop off his desk. “Okay, I’ll just go and write up my notes from the meeting.”
“Hardly. When, and for how long?”
I sighed. It’s not as if I actually thought the distraction would work. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about not revisiting painful life events?”
“It was your game. Tit for tat, Flowers.”
“When?” I thought about it. “I guess over a year ago now. When I first got to Houston. Not too long. And I wasn’t stupid about it. I found a decent shelter run by a local church. Basically, I just stood around all day waiting to be let inside. They had limits on how many they could take in, so I always made sure I was front of the line. I could shower and wash my clothes there. I did that until I found a waitressing job. Once I was working, I had enough money for the motel room.”
I made it sound simple. Easy. Which was my intent.
The raw fear that I’d experienced? I never wanted to go back there.
His brow furrowed while he did the mental math. “What did you do after you graduated high school?”
“I was able to be part of a work program that was associated with the state home where I spent my teenager years. They let you stay for a few years, but after you hit twenty-one, they need you to move on to make room for the next crop of graduates. I told you during my interview, I couldn’t afford housing where I was, which was why I made the decision to move to Houston. I knew it was going to be a…challenge. When I first got here.”
“Weren’t there any programs for fosters aging out of the system? Grants or something that could help you with rent?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. If there was some government program, no one told me about it. I just figured out how to survive. And look at me now.”
I twirled because I was wearing a fancy new dress that swooshed around my knees.
“Nordstrom, baby,” I bragged.
He raised an eyebrow. I hated that blasted all-knowing eyebrow.
