A Billion Reasons Why

by Kristin Billerbeck

  “My mam can mail it to me.”

  “We both know she won’t. Let’s talk price.”

  “I don’t have a price, Luc. I never did. Maybe you’re looking for the real Katie in the wrong place.” She stared at him, willing him to get how simple the answer really was— all she’d ever wanted from him was his heart. To know she wasn’t merely a number in his harem but that she’d been special . . . loved by him. Even if he hadn’t been strong enough to do anything about his feelings, the knowledge would mean something to her.

  She stared into his blue eyes and felt her stomach spiral with the connection she felt to him: a physical, life-affirming glow from within that she could never explain, but which formed some kind of bridge between them and seemed incapable of perishing.

  “I have to go.” She walked back into the classroom and saw that Carrie and Selena had everything under control. The kids were being fed, and the room was quiet with the gentle hum of moaning and silverware clanging. She heard Luc trailing her and felt the presence of his warmth near. Whatever the tabloids printed, whatever lifestyle he lived now, Katie knew the man who dwelled within . . . but did he?

  She turned to see him staring at the various metal paraphernalia, the wheelchairs, the kids themselves. “The needs here seem endless, Katie. How do you stand it?”

  She actually felt sorry for him in that moment. “I love it. I’m doing something to make it better. No one knows what these kids might have to offer the world. They’re like little gifts waiting to be unwrapped.” She lifted up a pair of plastic shears. “And I have scissors!”

  Luc shrugged out of his suit coat. He tossed it over a chair, unbuttoned his sleeves, and shoved them past his elbows. “I’m not leaving until you say yes. We need to feed the kids, we’ll feed the kids. What do I do?”

  “You’re going to help?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Why don’t you take Austin then? He eats those sweet potatoes in front of him.” She handed Luc a small spoon while Selena and Carrie backed away deferentially, almost reverently. “Let him swallow each bite. He chokes easily. It’s a slow process, so if you’re in a hurry you might as well go before you start.”

  Luc opened the small jar of baby food and knelt in front of the cherubic-looking Austin, who was settled behind a tray attached to his fixed-tilt wheelchair. Austin was seven, but he had the body of an average three-year-old. Severely autistic, he was also allergic to most foods and tended to throw more than he ate. His hands were always stimming; mechanical, repetitive movements that made it hard to get the food into his mouth—not unlike a miniature golf hole that had a revolving door. Though he looked high functioning, he was by far the hardest of the children to feed.

  “Hi, Austin,” Luc said.

  Austin looked at some invisible target in the upper corner of the room.

  Luc’s first spoonful was met with Austin’s clapping hands, and the orange mash exploded into thick droplets that sprayed Luc’s slacks and pressed blue shirt. “We missed.” Luc scooped up another spoonful.

  Selena and Carrie looked at Katie to see if she would take over, but she just crossed her arms and waited.

  Luc had slightly better results with the second spoonful, but then everyone’s expression changed at the sound of a small giggle.

  “He laughed!” Selena said.

  “Of course he laughed. Look what he did to my suit. You little bugger!” Luc spoke right into Austin’s face, and the boy stared at him. Not through him but actually at Luc.

  Austin laughed again.

  Katie sank to her knees next to Luc. “Talk to him again.”

  Luc took a rag and wiped Austin’s hands to stop their obligatory movement, and the child stilled, mesmerized. Aware.

  “I wonder if it’s your deep voice. Austin’s dad doesn’t live with him.”

  The boy giggled again and tried to grab the head of the spoon, which Luc pulled away.

  “You think that’s funny?” Luc scooped up more sweet potato mash, and Austin batted it away and giggled. “The secret is to aim for his forehead, I think.”

  Selena and Carrie stopped their cleanup work with the other kids and watched Luc’s actions as intently as Katie did.

  “Say something else to him, Luc,” Carrie said.

  “See, women don’t understand us boys, Austin. They think if you don’t do it their way, you’re doing it wrong. But you and me, we know the truth, don’t we? We know it’s more fun to wear our food than eat it, especially when it’s orange mush!” Luc stilled the spoon. “Can’t you get him a more manly meal?”

  Selena giggled. “A manly meal. What would that look like?”

  “I don’t know. A stew maybe.”

  “He chokes, Luc,” Katie said as she rolled her eyes.

  “You’re coddling him, that’s all. Give a man a little space here. You think they’d never seen a boy eat before,” he said to Austin, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off Luc.

  Austin took the next spoonful of sweet potatoes without a battle and swallowed it without incident. He followed up with another and another until the jar stood empty.

  “Score!” Luc cried as he raised his arms into goal position.

  “Luc, do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

  “We ate our lunch. No more of that garbage, all right? I’m going to have the store send something over for the kids to eat. Do you know how many additives and preservatives are in that? We can mash our own sweet potatoes, and that boy won’t know what hit him. You add a little brown sugar, and you’ve got dessert.” Luc winked at Austin. “Stick with me, kid.”

  Austin giggled again. It almost sounded familiar now.

  “Will that get me a date to my brother’s wedding? Because I’m sort of desperate here.” Luc looked straight at her with his brilliant blue eyes, and Austin’s fascination didn’t seem so out of the ordinary any longer.

  Maybe she did have a price after all. “Did you mean what you said about the food?”

  “Have I ever lied to you, Katie?”

  “I prefer not to answer that question.”

  “Fair enough. I supply you with decent food for these kids, you’ll come?”

  “And new high chairs and equipment for the classroom. And one more aide for an entire year.” She cut her eyes at him like a film noir actress.

  Luc roared with laughter. “I may have created a monster. I do all that, and you’ll go?”

  She felt breathless, but her answer tumbled out of her mouth regardless. “Yes, I’ll go. I guess I do have my price.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you, Katie.” Luc reached over his shoulder and shook her hand.

  A wistful sigh escaped her. What might her life have looked like if Luc hadn’t developed such a head for business? Not that it mattered. One didn’t get consumed by those kinds of emotions and come out better for it on the other side. That only happened on the silver screen with the likes of Fred and Ginger. Love that cost a person everything was too big a risk. Careful, thoughtful companionship made for a healthy relationship, and she’d do well to remind herself of that often until Ryan’s wedding came and went.

  When she’d left New Orleans, she’d vowed never to let a man have that kind of power over her emotions again, and she’d stuck to her promise. Fiery, passionate emotion made for trouble, pain, and far too much loss—in essence, it didn’t last.

  This wedding provided the perfect opportunity for closure so that she might commit herself fully to the idea of marriage and practicality. Right after she wore that vintage gown and sang the standards one last time . . . and explained to Dexter why she was photographed flung over a man’s shoulder.

  Chapter 3

  ACCENTUATE THE POSITIVE

  Katie danced around her living room with her scrapbook in her arms. As if it was Fred Astaire himself, she allowed the book to take the lead. She flopped on the sofa, opened her calendar, and scribbled inside: Flowers again today! That’s fifteen weeks in a row. She drew
a smiley face beside the words and marked the page with a small heart sticker.

  Eileen, her oldest friend and current roommate, turned her face toward Katie from her odd yoga pose with feet pointed to the ceiling. “I don’t even have to see it to know what you wrote. I should think if it was so touching, you wouldn’t need to remind yourself in print.”

  “Someday I’ll be able to tell our children all about their father’s warm touches when we were courting, and I won’t need to rely on my feeble memory.”

  “You’d have to lose your brain altogether not to remember something he did for fifteen weeks in a row.” Eileen rolled down onto her back, then flipped over so she leaned on her elbows. “Are you planning on losing your mind?”

  “No, I simply like tangible memories. Something I can hold on to.”

  “What are you writing in your courtship diary about your vacation from your senses?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I mean, what will you write in there for your kids about how Mommy went to N’awlins with her rich friend in his private jet? Because that’s when the kids’ interest might be piqued—not in their father’s recurring standard flower order. They’ll be as bored over that as you are.” Eileen sprang into a downward facing dog pose.

  “I’m not bored with it! I love it. There’s something so life affirming about fresh flowers. I can look into the kitchen pass-through at any time and know that Dexter is thinking of me.”

  “Katie, no matter how many entries you put in that book, Dexter is not going to be a romantic. I mean, fine, you’re going to marry him. He’s a good man. I just don’t want you to be disappointed. No matter how many junior high school hearts you draw next to his name, Dexter is going to order you what the Internet says is the proper gift for each anniversary. He’ll probably have a program created that does it for him.”

  “What’s wrong with that? You and I have a different view of romance, that’s all. You say potato, I say po-tah-to.”

  “No, you say delusional, I say reality check. What does Dexter think about this trip with your ex-boyfriend?”

  “Dexter trusts me.”

  “Like I said, delusional. Any man who trusts his girlfriend with a billionaire—”

  “He’s a multimillionaire,” she corrected.

  “A billionaire who looks like Luc DeForges—in a private jet alone, is not romantic or practical. He’s dwelling on another planet. Where was Spock from again?”

  “Dex is practical. He knows I need to go home to get my nana’s ring so that we can be engaged. He’s fine with it, for us. It’s a free opportunity and—”

  “It’s free. Is that the pull for Dexter? Sending you home with a guy who makes your heart go pitter-pat is free?”

  “Luc doesn’t make my heart go pitter-pat! That was a long time ago. I’ve grown up.”

  “This is me you’re talking to.” Eileen stood up, her lithe little frame looking even slimmer in yoga pants and top, and smoothed a wrinkle from her shirt. She followed Katie into the bedroom and sat on the bed, causing a pile of clothing to topple. “Why haven’t you packed yet?”

  “Dex is loaning me a suitcase. Mine is held together with duct tape.”

  “This is ridiculous. Your mam can mail you the ring.”

  Katie ignored Eileen and calmly refolded her forties-style gray skirt with the tiny wave of ruffles at the back. “Why don’t you come along if you’re so worried about me?”

  “Maybe I will,” Eileen said.

  “I haven’t been home since Paddy died. I don’t think an e-mail saying ‘Send me my ring’ is going to fly.”

  “Planes go both ways, Katie. Your mam could have come out here more often.” She stood. “I’ve got dinner on. A lemongrass and shrimp soup. What time will Dex be here?”

  Katie glanced at her watch. “Any minute now.”

  She was glad Eileen liked to cook. Granted, everything she made was some kind of spa cuisine that needed a bulky piece of bread to make it an actual meal, but Katie wasn’t complaining. After shoveling foul-smelling baby food into kids all day, the last thing she wanted to do was cook.

  “I’m going to get dressed,” Eileen said. “You should pass the vacuum, as our mams would say. This place could use it!”

  Their apartment was simple, but it had been built in the thirties and had that old-time feel that Katie felt such an affinity for. She loved the rounded doorways and original kitchen with its Wedgewood stove. She might have loved that aspect less if she actually cooked. The apartment thumbed its proverbial nose at the modern stainless steel styles and cold granite countertops.

  But Eileen had obliged because of the price. The rent had originally been out of their income level, but Katie’s appreciation of every detail convinced the landlord, an older woman who owned the place and lived on the bottom floor, to lower it for them.

  Eileen yelled from the next room. “Couldn’t Luc just teach some actress to swing dance?”

  “I suggested that!” Katie yelled back.

  “He could tell them Glee needs another dancer. Remember? They did swing dance with Will Schuester and Sue Sylvester.” Eileen’s voice got closer until she appeared in the room wearing skintight black shorts and a turquoise hoodie. “I just don’t see why Luc is back unless he’s interested in you.” She flipped her jet-black hair outside her collar and tied it up into a loose knot. “It makes no sense. No word from him in how many years?”

  “Three,” she mumbled. “Ryan’s getting married. That’s why he contacted me.”

  “I used to date Ryan, remember? I didn’t get an invitation.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything, Eileen. Ryan and I were dance partners. That’s different from inviting someone he casually dated once or twice.”

  “Maybe. But you know I wouldn’t trust Luc as far as I could throw him.” Eileen flexed her biceps. “Granted, I could probably get him across this room, but I still don’t trust him.”

  “If Dexter doesn’t have an issue with it, I don’t know why you should.” Katie folded a red scarf. “I think I’ll bring this.”

  Eileen laughed. “Really?”

  “What? You don’t like this scarf?”

  “I’m not talking about the scarf.” Eileen snagged the scarf, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it behind her. It landed in the corner amidst a few dust bunnies. “Told you you should have vacuumed. Katie, you’re not safe with Luc.”

  “If I’m not safe with him, then I shouldn’t be marrying Dexter.”

  “Why tempt fate? Luc’s not good for you, Katie. He breaks your heart. Every. Single. Time. He’s your Kryptonite, and even Superman is smart enough to know his weakness.”

  Katie slid onto the bed and grabbed the bedpost. “It’s not true. I love Dexter for all the ways he’s there for me. He’s going to make the perfect husband. I can count on him.”

  “You could set your watch by Dexter. I know you believe you’re past all this emotion and that Luc could never get close enough to hurt you again, but I think you’ve got too much faith in yourself. Those tears lasted a long time. If you would just admit to me that you still love Luc—at least some part of you loves him—then I’d feel better about your going.”

  “I love Dexter. I’m not just marrying him for practical reasons. I’m marrying him because he complements me so well. I would never cheat on any boyfriend, much less my soon-to-be fiancé. What kind of person do you think I am?”

  Eileen placed her hand on the pile of clothes Katie had restored on the bed. “A good one. A sweet and gentle, loving soul who is powerless against the hurricane force that is Luc DeForges. Know your weakness, Katie, that’s all I’m asking.”

  “You’ve never liked Luc,” she accused.

  Eileen fell back on the bed and stretched her arms over her head. “I liked him fine before he broke your heart.” She spoke to the ceiling. “Granted, I liked his brother better, but I couldn’t see you with a guy who danced better than you. It’s not right somehow. Ryan was always more like your brother
than a boyfriend.”

  “You didn’t like Luc in college. For one thing, you didn’t like that he went to Tulane instead of Loyola. You accused me of being a traitor.”

  “No, you’re right. I didn’t like him,” Eileen admitted. “Why don’t you just pick out a new engagement ring with Dex? He’d love to take you shopping and buy you a ring. It’s practical. Just make sure I’m out of town when you do it, all right? I don’t want to hear him blather on about all the details of its perfection. Besides, your nana’s classic antique doesn’t seem to fit a Dexter marriage.”

  “What do you mean? It’s my ring, and it fits me. What’s more practical than that?” Katie pointed at the brooch on her collar. “I don’t like modern things.”

  “Tacori makes beautiful antique-looking rings. Buy one of them and save yourself some heartache. Yes, I know, the emeralds match your eyes,” Eileen said before Katie could protest. She lifted up onto her elbows. “Buy some emeralds that color and put them on the new ring. Dexter will buy you whatever you want. Even he can’t believe you’re marrying him. I’ve got to go throw the shrimp in the soup.” Eileen kicked her legs out and jumped off the bed. “I just don’t know how you two can be in love. You’re so . . . polite to each other. How will you ever solve serious issues like whether to watch Monday Night Football or The Bachelor?”

  “That’s easy. Dexter doesn’t like football. So I’m sure we’ll solve it by finding something we love doing together.”

  “Okay, Dexter wants to watch the Life and Times of the Dung Beetle in three parts, and you want to watch The Bachelor. Now who wins? How do you negotiate?”

  “I don’t want to watch The Bachelor. I’ll be married. What’s the point?”

  “So no married women watch The Bachelor? Your desire for tacky television evaporates on your wedding day?”