“Tell him I enjoyed meeting him. And I sincerely mean that. I wish both of you the best.” She shakes my hand, then turns to go out the door.
I walk to the staircase and stop.
She rode here in my car with me. She doesn’t have a way to get home.
“Magnolia, wait!”
She’s already outside. I hurry after her. She’s a speed walker, because she’s almost to the wisteria bush by the time I make it outside.
“Magnolia! Wait! I’ll take you home.”
She turns around and waves. “I’ll order a ride! You need to stay here with your grandfather.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she’s right. I don’t want to leave his side.
“I’ll have his driver take you home. Please. It’s the least I can do after what you’ve done for me.”
I make a quick call on my cell. Eli—Grandpa’s official chauffeur and personal assistant—will bring the car around from the garage to take her home.
When I hang up, I stare at her, having that uncomfortable feeling that I’m forgetting something. “I promised to pay you, didn’t I?”
She shifts, looking everywhere but at my face. “Well, yes, but I just can’t take payment for something like this. Not under these circumstances.”
“I insist. It was a kind thing for you to do. And you need the money.”
She straightens her shoulders, as though she’s deciding if she’s going to be insulted or not.
“You just lost your job,” I remind her.
The town car rolls to a stop next to us, and I open the passenger door.
“Eli will drive you back to your apartment. How about cash? You know what? I’ll just give you everything in my wallet.”
I pull out the wallet from my pocket and flip it open. I mumble a not-nice word under my breath.
A five-dollar bill stares back at me. I forgot I’d sent the wallet through the washing machine this week, and the cash is still on my kitchen counter, drying.
“I have your phone number. I’ll Venmo you.”
She waves a hand through the air. “You have enough to worry about. I would feel guilty taking it.”
“I promise I’ll fix this for you,” I tell her. But it’s just a vague promise, and I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
“Could you…” She pauses, as though she’s figuring out how to ask a question. “Could you let me know how he is tomorrow? You have my number.”
I nod twice, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Of course. Thank you for being so nice.”
The mist in her eyes grows until a single tear rolls down her cheek. She closes the door to the car, cutting off anything I could say.
CHAPTER 8
Magnolia
It feelsstrange that I just agreed to get paid to be a pretend fiancée. It’s not like I even did anything. It’s wrong to take Nash’s money, which is why I told him we could sort it out later.
But now I have regrets about that answer as well.
Because I still don’t have a job. And all I have to show for my time is a deep-seated sadness that his sweet grandpa is about to pass away.
