Her Billionaires_ Boxed Set(7)

“Billionaire.” Mike lifted his chin, as if sniffing something. “It does roll off the tongue nicely.”

“Mike Pine, billionaire,” Dylan announced grandly, jumping on the bed and bouncing like a mad monkey. His hair flopped in his eyes and he watched Mike plant his hands on his hips, shaking his head, as if faced with a recalcitrant, hyperactive eight year old.

“You are such a child.”

“Yes, but I am a wealthy child!” Bounce bounce bounce— boom! Dylan jumped off the bed and bounded onto the floor next to Mike, like a superhero landing. Mike’s eyes went from amused to pained, then his shoulders slumped forward. Dylan rubbed the soft spot between his shoulder blades and they both stared at a spot on the wall that seemed to contain everything they yearned for.

“She left us all this money, Dyl. We had no idea.” Dylan shifted uncomfortably and said nothing. Mike picked up on his change, though, and turned to him with an accusing look. “You knew?”

Dylan dropped his hand from Mike’s back and sighed. “No. I didn’t know she was a billionaire! But I figured out pretty early on that she had money. We were in college, Mike. The dot com boom hadn’t happened, and she claimed to make money off ‘websites.’ How do you think she could afford to spot us on all those trips we took?”

“We camped and kept it cheap, Dylan,” Mike sputtered. “She didn’t live like a crazy-rich person.” Blinking hard, Mike started to say more but turned toward the dresser where Dylan kept a picture of Jill. The three of them on Cape Cod, at First Encounter Beach, the green marsh grasses so thick that hundreds of thousands of minnows lived in the shallow waters there, almost giving the water a viscosity of live, teeming fish. The ocean had been so perfect, the water warm though thrashing for the bay that day, and the three of them peered into the sun, some random stranger stopped and asked to take a pic.

A pic taken a month before they knew Jill had lymphoma. For the month after that trip she’d been fatigued. Not herself. Quiet. Waving away their concerns, she had trudged on, working on her “websites” and going for long runs that turned into long walks and that, finally, turned into a leisurely stroll during which she’d collapsed. Mike had been with her and carried her three city blocks to the emergency room of a hospital. The next few days were a blur Dylan couldn’t let himself resurrect.

Not now. Not as he prepared to go out with someone new. Someone vibrant.

Someone alive.

“Yeah, Jill kept a lot of secrets from us, Mike.” His partner bristled; the wound was still too fresh.

“So let’s continue her legacy, then, and keep the money a secret.”

“For now, sure. When the time’s right, we can talk about it.”

“Jesus.” Mike ran a shaking hand through his hair and stared out the window at the city below. “What a fucking curse.”

“And a blessing.”

Angry eyes met Dylan’s as Mike spun around. “Call it whatever you want.”

“It’s both,” Dylan conceded.

“It just is— you’re right. It’s both.”

“You get to save the resort. You know Jill would have been happy.”

“So then why didn’t she save it? Why, Dylan, didn’t she tell us she had all this money? I mean, damn! It’s not something you casually forget to mention. ‘Oh! That’s right! I’m part of the richest point-whatever-oh-one percent in the world. While you were complaining about your ski mountain going under, did that slip my mind? Oops!’” The sneer in Mike’s voice was utterly uncharacteristic and made Dylan recoil. Dude was pissed.

The anger, Dylan knew, was really a form of mourning.

“Tell it to Jill, Mike.” The words took the winds out of the larger man’s sails, his body literally shrinking before Dylan’s eyes. Jill’s ashes were on that very mountain Mike had just bought— a big reason for his purchase. Now he could have her forever, safe and sound and secure.

But still dead.

Mike bit his upper lip and nodded. “Yeah. I will.” Dylan was running late for his date and slipped out the door quietly. He was ready to move forward, to move on, to continue past the past. Someday—soon— he hoped Mike could join him.

He looked at his smart phone. Shit, he was already running late. No way he was going to blow this by making her think he was standing her up. A quick look in the mirror again, a little bit more cologne. A final check of his smile in the mirror and he walked out of the apartment and into what he hoped would be a part of his future.

Mike could stew in the past.



Laura wasn’t quite sure what to make of this as she paced a safe distance from the restaurant, trying to leave herself an out if she needed to save face and just disappear. A sink hole might have been better, but she couldn’t conjure one at will. Running away in shame, though, she was familiar with—so she skulked three storefronts from the entrance. He had said 6:00 and it was 6:07. Seven minutes normally meant nothing in terms of the wheel of life. But right now each second felt like torture and 420 tortures were adding up to to one big ball of fear. And it all rested right in her gut where desire should be right now, where happiness should be right now, where joy and, well—not quite love, but at least lust should be residing. Not this pit of despair.