The Unnoticed Billionaire

Chapter Twelve

We sit in the car in utter silence, staring through the windshield. Tyler clutches the steering wheel, his knuckles growing whiter by the second. His car still smells like plastic and pungent freshener. The clock on the dashboard reads ten thirty-seven. Is Mom asleep by now?

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat or drink? You look pale."

"You said you're going to explain things, so I would rather you explain them and let us be done with this," I say bitterly.

"Right. I'm sorry." He sighs loudly and drops his head into his palms before straightening in his seat. "The night I was supposed to pick you up," he starts, "an unexpected situation came up. I was—

"Your mother. Yes," I cut him off impatiently.

"My mother had a heart attack. A friend who was there with her took her to the hospital. I got to the hospital as soon as I could. Around five, I think. I called my sister in England, and she took the next flight home. I was terrified beyond belief and still am. It was like . . . like sitting there, seeing things but too shocked to really do anything about it. The next thing I remember from that night is the doctor calling my name, and that was around midnight."

An unwanted sigh slips out of me. Tyler's experience awakens terrifying memories. I remember sitting on the hospital chair, eyes open wide but not really seeing anything. My eyes sting with tears.

"I completely forgot about our date until I saw your calls when I checked my phone the next morning." He drops his head and takes a long breath, as if collecting his thoughts and choosing the best words. "I was not trying to avoid you, punish you, or even push you away. I was in a bad place. To be quite honest with you, I was so scared. Even long after the doctors cleared her. I felt powerless."

I know that feeling all too well. The pit in your stomach that seems bottomless. The chill that you feel when you realize you might lose someone special in your life.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know how else to deal with the situation. By the time I was finally out of my head, thanks to my sister, I was called to work. There was a huge crisis in the company—"

"The hotel?" I intervene.

He looks hesitant for a few seconds before he continues, "Yeah, yeah, the hotel. I had to travel to another location to take care of it. In the last few days, I have been traveling back and forth. When I wasn't traveling, I was at the hospital."

"When you didn't call me or a-answer my calls, I-I thought . . ."

"I know. By the time I had a minute to myself, it was already midnight, and I . . . well, I prefer us to talk in person than leave you another voicemail or a text. I . . . I guess a part of me is used to the old ways."

How wrong I was to think the worst of him when he was going through all that. The fear of getting abandoned again, that perhaps I wasn't good enough, left me deponent that I never once thought of how he must have felt when his mother had a heart attack. Not when I was so busy scolding myself.

He looks at me with a faint smile. "But with you, it's different. You're not after money, fame, or . . . sex. You are pure and angelic, which is what I like most." It's my turn to look away. If only he knew the level of rage and anger in me. Or how judgmental I am when it comes to rich people. Or how I hastily judged him.

"I should have called you. I should have explained sooner. But I'm here, and I really want us to work because I really like you. Everything about you."

You might not like me once you find out how angry and ugly I am inside.

Besides, it shouldn't matter. None of this should. This is my opportunity to end this. To free both of us. He looks at me cautiously. I try not to react. But my stupid heart mellows at his gentle words.