Once Upon a Billionaire: Blue Collar Billionaires, Book 1

by Jessica Lemmon

  I pick up the remote and flick off the television. “While folding laundry.”

  It takes her a second. “You’re at my apartment.”

  “I went to CRBI to surprise you. Amber didn’t know where you were. You scared the life out of me, Vivian.” Now that I know she’s alive and well, anger creeps in.

  “Well, excuse me for not calling. I was trying to comfort my brother so he didn’t have to go through this alone.”

  “How is Dee?” I rein in my anger enough to ask.

  “Stable,” Vivian says, sounding groggy. “Finally. They think she took antidepressants in addition to drinking a lot of wine. Walt and I spent the entire night in the waiting room of the ICU. Finally, the nurse convinced him to go home and get some sleep, that Dee was going to be okay for a few hours while he rested. When we arrived at his apartment, he was pacing and half-crazed. I sat with him until”—there’s a pause while she presumably checks the time—“God. An hour and a half ago. I feel like someone kicked my head in. I’ve never been so tired in my life.”

  “Walt didn’t use?”

  “He’s sober. Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure until I arrived at the hospital, but he’s all right. I’m not going to be coming home any time soon, though.”

  I blink at this announcement. I don’t know if she means for a day or two or a week or two. Or longer.

  “I’ll come to you.” The next best logical thing. “I can charter a jet. Let me know what you need from home. I’ll pack you a bag.”

  “I packed one,” she tells me.

  “Okay, then give me Walt’s address. Did he rent the place on Palmetto?” I rummage through a kitchen drawer in search of pen and paper. “Better give me the hospital name too.”

  “No.”

  The word freezes me into a solid block of irritation. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I have it under control, Nate.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact I can help if you let me.”

  “We don’t need help. There’s nothing to do. I’ll come home when things are settled.”

  Hearing she doesn’t need my help is akin to her saying she doesn’t give a shit about me. Old childhood wounds wriggle out of my subconscious. I’ve been rejected before.

  “You should have called me,” I bark, which is probably the wrong thing to say to someone who’s slept for ninety minutes in the last thirty or so hours. “I would have flown out with you. I could be there for you.”

  “That’s not your job,” she replies coolly.

  “Speaking of, I won’t hold the Grand Marin position open indefinitely.” It’s petty, but I’m angry, so that’s what I say.

  “Fine. Don’t. My brother is my number one responsibility.” She’s calmer than I like. Meanwhile, I’m like an overheated Hot Pocket, a steamy mess inside, roughly the temperature of lava, and beginning to ooze from the cracks. “I’m going back to sleep. Lock my front door on your way out.”

  “Vivian,” I say, my tone gruff. When she doesn’t respond, I think she’s hung up until I hear her draw a breath. Rather than argue, I mutter, “Call me when you wake up.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Vivian

  It’s evening on the same day Nate called, and I’m walking back to the waiting room with a cup of steaming coffee in hand. It’s not for me. I don’t want to be jumpier than I have been for the last twenty-some hours.

  Walt and I spent the day grabbing catnaps here and there before coming back to the hospital to visit Dee. She’s out of ICU. They’re keeping her for observation through tonight.

  I encounter her sister, Shannon, who flew in this afternoon. She looks as tired and bedraggled as I feel. I managed to put on makeup and pull my hair into a ponytail, but that’s as good as it’s going to get.

  “One cream, two sugars.” I hand the cup to Shannon who offers me a weak smile.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Where’s Walt? With Dee?”

  She nods as she sips from the paper cup. “He’s worried.”

  “Well, he can join the club.” We lower ourselves into the seats we’ve been warming for most of the day.

  “I’m going to convince her to come back to Atlanta,” Shannon announces, and my stomach sinks. I know that’s what she needs to do, and I know Dee needs to go with her. “They can’t get married.”

  She says the word “married” and my stomach tightens. For a moment, I was sucked into a fantasy with Nate that could have ended up there. But, like I said, the other shoe always drops. His assertion that the shoe already dropped was premature. Life had a bigger shoe waiting.

  “They say they’re in love.” Shannon snorts. “Like they have any clue. Dee jumped from one addiction to another. She thinks your brother is going to solve her problems? She’s delusional.” She slants me an apologetic look. “No offense. I don’t mean anything bad about your brother.”

  I hold up a hand to let her know no offense was taken. I should have expected this scenario the moment he showed up on my doorstep. If there’s one thing Walt and I can count on, it’s that love hurts. Losing our parents, his multiple visits to rehab, and now this. What more proof do we need?

  “I’m a bitter divorcée, can you tell?” Shannon’s smile is wry. She’s pretty in a rough way. Taller and squarer than her younger sister. “I wasn’t ready for marriage, and I was stable. What about you?” Her eyes snap to my naked left hand to check for a ring.

  “I’m not the relationship type.” I don’t like how that sounds, and worse, I don’t like how it feels. Like it’s true. Time and again I’ve watched love tear people apart. And then I tiptoe though the tulips with Nathaniel freaking Owen believing I’m going to come out the other side intact.

  I’m the delusional one.

  Over the last few days I spent alone, I came to the conclusion that what Nate and I have is too big to hold on to. Like a deflated hot-air balloon wadded up in my arms slowly, slowly filling.

  Last night Walt called panic-stricken over Dee. He hadn’t been able to get ahold of his sponsor and didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t think, I acted. Threw together a suitcase and climbed in the car. I stayed on the phone with him for the first leg of the drive, stopped and picked up coffee, and then called him during the last hour to see how he was. Better, for sure, but not great. The phone call I didn’t make was one to Nate.

  I thought about his mom using. I thought of the way she treated him, trying to take his money and breaking his heart all over again. I thought of my mom and her teaching me to walk in high-heeled shoes. The way I cried in her closet after she died, both hating her and loving her with equal intensity. I thought of Nate’s dad, who begged, borrowed, and stole for his next hit. I thought of Walt, and then Dee.

  Addicts have a way of swirling the environment around them into a funnel cloud and sucking in everyone nearby. Nate has worked hard to separate himself from the addicts in his life. He stayed away from his mother for his own self-preservation. When he went back to her, she hurt him all over again. The pain never goes away. There’s no avoiding it.

  Staying with Nate subjects him to Walt’s addictions, which are an ongoing battle. I can’t abandon my brother, but I can choose not to subject Nate to any more pain. He’s been giving and caring and putting himself on the line for me since we met. He’d have dropped everything to come here, and if I truly loved him, I’d never ask him to do that.

  Do you love him?

  “She’s asking for you.” Walt steps into the waiting room and gestures to Shannon. Dee’s sister takes her leave as my brother sits next to me and lets out a gusty breath.

  “Shit, V. Addicts, am I right?” He pulls his palm over his face. “I’m sorry I dragged you here. I was freaking out.”

  “I understand.” And I do. If Nate was in the ICU, I’d lose my marbles alone in a waiting room. Because I love him, I realize miserably.

  Love hurts.

  If it doesn’t hurt in the moment, wait around long enough and it will.


  “Nate called me earlier today.” Walt, elbows on his knees, scrubs his palms together. “He wanted to make sure I was all right, and he asked if I needed anything. He’s a good guy.”

  “He’s the best.” My voice is hollow.

  “Look, you have a job and a life to return to. You don’t have to stay here and babysit. I freaked out, but I’m okay. Dee’s okay. I just…it was such a flashback to the friends I’ve lost.”

  “I don’t mind showing up for you, Walt. We’re all we have. Our parents bailed, but I never will.”

  “Thanks, sis.” His smile is weak.

  “I was thinking I’d stay a while. Just until you’re on your feet.”

  He’s already shaking his head.

  “No arguments.”

  “You have a life in Ohio.” He sounds annoyed. “Don’t blow it up on account of me.”

  “I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” His sigh comes from the depths of his soul. “I’m going to grab a bite to eat. Want anything?”

  I shake my head. He takes off down the corridor and vanishes around a corner. I stare in his wake for a minute before blinking when a different man appears walking toward me.

  Nate.

  He came.

  Of course he came.

  I watch his sure and strong gait, relief filling me to the brim. Definitely, I love him. Which makes him being here harder. I realize now I have to choose. Between Walt and Nate. My brother, whose life is chaos, and Nate, who believes his calling is to keep everything—and everyone—around him stable.

  He deserves better.

  I stand, the sight of him so welcome, I want to throw my arms around his neck and bury my nose in his ocean-scented neck. I want to be held and comforted. He’d do it, no questions asked. No one cares about me as much as he does.

  But.

  In my efforts to live unselfishly, I’ve been a very selfish girl. Nate has done nothing but give me gifts, treat me well, grant me space. Even now he doesn’t look angry that he’s left his home, his work, and God knows what other obligations to come to my aid.

  If I loved him, I’d let him off the hook. Let him find someone whole—someone who’s already stable. Someone who won’t break his heart repeatedly. Hasn’t he been through enough?

  Tears prick my eyes. He looks tired, his shirt rumpled probably from sleeping during the short flight here.

  “Hey.” His smile is crooked. Like his nose. God, I love his nose.

  “Walt told you where we were.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t.” He cups my nape and presses his lips to my forehead.

  I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. Pushing him away will be the hardest thing I ever do.

  Nate

  Not that I expected a parade when I showed up, but hell, would that have been too much to ask? Once again, I remind myself that addicts are not easy people to deal with, not by a long shot.

  I was mollified by the fact that Walt seems even-keeled. I called him again when the jet landed and he told me he was in Dee’s hospital room watching her sleep. He also told me where to find Viv, and then apologized for being an asshole. All I could think was we’ve all been there, kid.

  He’s going to be okay. I feel it in my gut. Vivian needs to give him space to be okay, but that is a muscle she has to exercise. I’m uniquely suited for her given I’ve been dealing with this sort of relationship since birth. I came out the other side. So will she. So will we.

  The brief press of my lips to her forehead reminds me how much I miss her. I never should have let her go home, but then, what was I supposed to do? Tie her to the radiator? Lock her in a tower like Rapunzel?

  Tempting.

  “I passed Walt on the way in. He said he was grabbing a bite. Want to join him?”

  She averts her eyes, sliding her hands into her back pockets. She has to be exhausted. She drove from Ohio to Illinois. I’m still pissed she didn’t call me, but now’s not the time for that conversation. She’s struggling to deal and on very little sleep.

  “Somewhere else, maybe?” She frowns.

  “I know just the place.”

  The deep-dish-pizza joint is open twenty-four hours. It’s between a pawn shop and a salon in not the best part of town, but fairly close to the hospital. I have a hunch she doesn’t want to venture too far away.

  Our pie arrives, packed with meat and cheese, and on Viv’s half, per her request, “lots of olives.” I remember the olive I ate from her martini the night I showed her the rose garden. The night she changed my life by agreeing to come home with me.

  We eat in silence. I wolf down two slices by the time she’s eaten half of one. Today’s been hectic. I had three meetings to cancel and one I had to show up for before I could fly out.

  “Here you are again,” she mumbles to her plate. “My knight in shining armor.”

  “Flattery. My ego loves that.” I make a gesture indicating for her to compliment me more, but her smile is brittle.

  “Hey.” Serious now, I bend my head and try to meet her downturned gaze. She looks up, pain in the depths of her eyes. “He’s all right. I talked to him. He’s going to be okay.”

  Her voice is watery when she asks, “For how long this time?”

  I want to tell her for good. I want to reassure her and make promises. But the life of an addict is a slippery slope. Recovery is a day-to-day consideration. At any moment anything could happen. So I tell her the truest thing I know.

  “I don’t know, but whatever happens we’ll deal with it.” I reach over the table and take her hand in mine. She starts to cry. “What can I do?”

  “That’s just it.” She uses the scratchy-as-cardboard napkins to swipe tears from her beautiful face. Even with a red nose and puffy eyes and tangles in her normally bouncy hair she’s beautiful. “You do everything for me. For us. You can’t be stopped.”

  I can’t be. I let out a chuckle. “I care about you. What do you expect?”

  I love her. I don’t say that. Her misery seems less about Walt and tiredness and more about something else. When she tugs her hand into her lap and sits back in her chair, the alarm siren in my head wails. My mind goes berserk imagining one bad-news scenario after another.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Nate.” She sniffs, straightens her back. Shoring up. “I’ve been fooling myself believing you and I were building a life together.”

  “We are building a life together.” My heart throbs. Aches. She can’t do this.

  “Not any longer.”

  I think of the painting of the dragon at the art institute and for the first time picture myself as the beast and not the knight. It’s me who’s being stabbed to death. Me who’s losing the battle. And by battle, I mean her.

  “You know as well as I do Walt’s fight isn’t over,” she says. “If I don’t push you away, you’ll go down alongside us.”

  “I’m a big boy. That’s my choice,” I say, as firmly as I can.

  “No. It’s not.” Her head shakes and more tears run down her cheeks. “I don’t want you to stay. It’s not worth it.”

  “I’m in love with you. It’s worth it.” I hadn’t imagined making that proclamation as a Hail Mary, but here we are. She doesn’t respond the way I hope. Her face falls and her eyes broadcast a combination of hurt and sympathy. Committed to my foolishness, I prompt, “And you love me.”

  I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it came out like one. And then, right there in a twenty-four-hour pizza place, she plunges the sword into my chest to the hilt.

  “I don’t know how to be in love. That’s not your fault. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Bullshit,” I growl, growing angrier by the millisecond. “You’re scared. You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “I’m not scared. I’m terrified,” she admits, with another angry swipe of the napkin across her face. “I’m thinking plenty clear. I’ve seen what romantic love does to a couple. You believe it saves the worl
d. The Owens have been your shining example. You are able to believe, and that’s a miracle.” Her smile is faint before her expression hardens once again. “I live in a different world. One where love hurts and bad things happen, regardless of what you do to safeguard against them.”

  “Dammit, Vivian,” I say, pissed off and every bit as terrified as she is. I’m losing her. In real time. “Don’t do this.”

  “Look around.” She throws her arms wide. “It’s done! Why do you think I didn’t call to ask for your help? You’ve cashed in your last get out of jail free card for me. I don’t want your help. And I don’t want you.”

  “Oh.” That’s a different story, I think numbly. That numbness chills my face, then slides down my arms and over my chest. I can’t feel a fucking thing from the neck down.

  Her bottom lip quivers, but her voice is steady. “Go home. It was only ever a fantasy, anyway.”

  She stands to leave and I push myself to my feet unsteadily. My voice is reedy but I try one last time. “Viv.”

  “Goodbye, Nate.” She pauses at the door briefly before she walks out of it. And out of my life.

  I have my suspicions it’s for good this time.

  Vivian

  I dash outside, aware of my surroundings as I run for the parking lot lights shining outside the hospital entrance. I sneak a look over my shoulder to see if Nate followed. He didn’t, and my heart suffers a fissure down the center. I know what’s best for him but a deep, dark, hopeful part of me wanted him to come for me.

  Apparently I’m an addict too.

  I thought I was so independent and so strong, pushing him away in the beginning. But the real strength comes by pushing him away when I want nothing more than to hide inside him. To be taken care of. To let him chase away the monsters…

  Outside the hospital entrance, air burning my lungs, heart slamming into my ribcage, I bend in half. Grief eats my insides like acid. Hand over my mouth, I attempt to stifle a sob, but it escapes anyway, and brings with it another. My cries shake my shoulders and weaken my legs. Tears pour from my eyes in steady streams.