I barked out in laughter at that. Man, she had a great sense of humor. Most women were terrified of talking about my money, probably for fear that it would weird me out. And then it always became the big elephant in the room.
Jack: Ask away.
My text was nonchalant, but I was anything but. What did she want to ask me? And what the heck did it have to do with kindergarten?
Hannah with two N’s: Will you be my friend?
I stared at the text in confusion, but I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth.
Hannah with two N’s: That day in the restaurant, when I asked you what it was like to be rich, you said lonely. Well, the truth is that having a mom with cancer doesn’t make you a cool friend-magnet either. I…need a friend. Would you like to be text pen pals?
Her vulnerability was so incredibly attractive to me at that moment. I hadn’t taken her for the girl who had trouble making friends, but I could see what she meant. She was probably too busy taking care of her mom to meet up with her friends.
Jack: So now you are telling me text pen pals is a thing too?
Hannah with two N’s: It is! You write each other back and forth over text, AKA textpalling.
Jack: That’s just texting. And textpalling isn’t a word either.
Hannah with two N’s: Don’t make me call my billionaire friend. I’ll have these words in the dictionary faster than you can say Hannah with two N’s.
I was full on laughing in my office at work. This never happened. At this point, how could I not be friends with thiswoman? It would be good for me. I could keep an eye on her but also keep her at arm’s length.
Jack: BRB. I’m on hold with the people at Dictionary.com.
She sent a crying-laughing emoji, and that was it. We were officially textpalling. Whatever that was.
Chapter Seven
HANNAH
Jack and I were now friends. We texted every few days, mostly a “how was your day”, or he’d ask about the restaurant and my mom, and I’d ask him about work. I prayed for him every night and thanked God for bringing him into my life. It felt like my friends had pretty much abandoned me when my mom got cancer, and I didn’t go out anymore. In their defense, they still invited me in the group chat, but I always said no. Between my mom’s appointments and the new restaurant, I didn’t have time. Besides, I was sure that going out with a bunch of young people in their twenties and talking about depressing things like cancer wasn’t exactly everyone’s idea of a good time.
It had been three months since Jack bought me the restaurant. It was making a profit, and I was able to cut myself a nice little monthly salary that meant my mom didn’t have to rush back to work anytime soon after she healed. The downside was that I worked constantly. Owning your own business meant you never clocked out.
My mom’s chemo treatments were going well with Jack’s fancy Seattle doctors consulting on her case. I decided to shoot Jack a text in the morning before work and see what he was up to.
Hannah with two N’s: How many restaurants do you plan on buying fired waitresses today?
Jack: At least five.
I burst into laughter, brushing some mascara over my lashes and then braiding my hair over one shoulder.
Hannah with two N’s: Seriously, what philanthropy are you up to lately?
I’d learned that Jack had an obsession with helping people in need, something I found insanely attractive.
A link popped up in the chat and I clicked it.
Angelhouse.me
It led to a fundraising website that built homes for children in India. It talked about the children being rescued from the streets and saved from being sold into sex slavery. Tears welled in my eyes as I went back to my text.
Hannah with two N’s: Are you building an orphanage in India?
Jack: Already built. Chloe is flying out tomorrow to cut the ribbon and take pictures.
I frowned.
