Worth Billions (Worth It 1)

“Dinner’s ready.”

Michelle’s voice ripped through the recesses of my mind and my eyes flew open. I looked back at her and took in that quaint little smile of hers. Didn’t I just talk with her about dinner? Didn’t I just catch her in my arms after she’d chased me to the pantry? I took stock of the world behind her and focused on the moon rising in the sky. The last of the sun was setting beyond the horizon, and I was shocked at the time that had passed me by.

While I was stuck in my own memories from a time so long ago.

“Thanks. I’ll be in there in a second,” I said.

“Take your time. It’ll sit on the stove until you come in,” she said.

Then I listened as her feet padded off.

I smoothed my hand over the damaged fender and swallowed the knot in my throat. Why didn’t he restore it again? Money wasn’t the issue, he had plenty. He had the time. Why not try again? Had I broken his heart that badly?

The thought made me sick to my stomach.

Smoothing the tarp back over the car I shut the garage. I couldn’t look at it. I didn’t want to. Knowing he hadn’t pieced it back together after that night left me with more emotions than I wanted to deal with. I needed to keep moving forward. Keep making progress. I had a lot of things to figure out about his will and how to proceed, handing out everything just as he requested.

But when I got to the porch, I looked back one last time at the garage.

One last time at the looming evidence of the disappointment I could be in someone’s life.

No wonder my father beat the shit out of me.

Chapter 10

Michelle

I’d managed to pull together a pretty tasty pasta dish, but as Gray took his first bite I found myself holding my breath. I wanted him to like it. I wanted him to enjoy it, just like I had the first meal he cooked me. The fork entered his mouth and I tried not to stare too hard, but if he was going to spit it back out I wanted to be ready to get him something else. Or at least take a bit of my cash and order a pizza. He looked up at me and smiled before shoveling another forkful into his mouth, and I felt a massive smile cross my cheeks.

Yes.

He liked it.

Point for me.

Andy never liked anything I made him. There was always a complaint about something. The sauce was too runny or too thick. The noodles were too chewy or too soggy. The meat wasn’t cooked how he wanted it to be or the flavor wasn’t right. Always something he didn’t approve of. It was one of the reasons I’d stopped cooking for him.

It was also one of the first things we’d started fighting about.

The two of us ate in silence for a little while, but as I watched Gray I noticed that faraway look in his eyes. The one he’d had in the garage. But then, I saw his shoulders tense. I watched his face etch itself into stone. He looked upset. Bothered. Distracted.

He was probably sad. Grieving in the only way he knew how. Like I was.

He’d known Anton for much longer and had more memories with the man than I’d ever have. And part of me was jealous about that. I wanted more time with Anton. With his countenance and his knowledge and his presence. I wanted Gray to tell me all sorts of stories about him. But I didn’t want to put him on the spot.

Maybe if I started talking about it, he would follow my lead. Maybe if I shared my own love for Anton, he would feel compelled to share his.

“You know, I was in a butcher shop when I met Anton.”

Gray looked up at me as he slurped some noodles between his lips.

Those lips I’d almost kissed in the kitchen earlier.

“I was behind him in line and he was ordering tripe. I had no idea what it was, and when I asked him about it, he turned around. That was the first time he called me pretty girl.”

“What did he say?” Gray asked.

“He said something like, ‘a pretty girl like you wouldn’t know what tripe is, because a pretty girl like you deserves to eat well.’ I had no idea what the man was talking about until he told me what tripe really was,” I said, with a giggle. “Then, he asked me if I’d ever had tripe soup. Even though he knew what my answer would be, because I had no idea what the stuff was, he asked anyway. I frowned at him because I thought the mere idea of it was disgusting.”