The Billionaire's Unexpected Wife: Part 2

I paid up, and Amaya left an enormous tip for the waiter, just like she’d said she was going to, and we headed down to the shops to find something for her sister. A question was nagging at the back of my mind, and I knew I had to come out with it sooner rather than later.

I watched her as she went through one of the racks of clothes, pulling out a dress in pale blue with thick straps. She held it up and moved it back and forth, frowning slightly, trying to figure out whether to get it or not.

“You like it?” I asked.

“For Jolene,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the dress. “I’m not sure if she would like it or not, though. A few years ago, she would have loved something like this, but she’s a teenager now, and I can never keep up with how she actually wants to dress.”

I hesitated for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I was about to ruin a beautiful day, but I had to know.

“Amaya, can I ask you something?”

She glanced over at me.

“What is it?” she replied, wary. I took a deep breath and then came out with it. Amaya didn’t appreciate bullshitting any more than I did, and I wasn’t going to keep her waiting.

“What happened to your parents?” I knew, but I wanted the details. All of them. I wanted to know her more intimately that I had up to that point.

She stopped what she was doing and put the dress back on the rack carefully. The store was quiet and nearly empty, and she took a step toward me. I could see the hurt flash through her eyes, but she inhaled deeply and finally spoke.

“They died a long time ago. I told you that,” she replied. “In an accident. I was just eighteen. I was so young, and Jolene was barely a few years old, and I had to step in and look after her. There was no one else in the family who could do it, so I …”

She hesitated again, catching her breath.

“They gave us a payout, the insurance people, for the accident, and I took it so I could go off to college and support my sister at the same time,” she explained. “But when I finished up, I realized I couldn’t hold down a job and look after her.”

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” I assured her swiftly. “Really.”

“No, it’s okay.” She brushed a few tears away from her eyes, as though angry at herself. I fell silent and looked at the store assistant, who was lurking nearby awkwardly and watching us. I shot her a look that told her to back right the hell off, and she scurried away to the other end of the store and left us to it.

“I wanted to be with her,” she went on, speaking more quietly now. Usually, I would have done everything I could to stem this kind of show of emotion, but I found myself wanting more from her, craving this connection, the truth of who she was and what had happened to her.

“I really did,” she continued, the words falling from her mouth as though she had been fighting to keep them in all this time. “But I couldn’t afford to keep her around the house while I went out to work after I had finished college and after the money from the insurance had paid out.”

“Shit,” I muttered. I couldn’t imagine having to make that choice she’d had to make, the decision about whether I was going to follow my career or take care of my family. Sometimes, it was just underlined to me all over again, how lucky I was to have the kind of money I did. If something happened to a member of my family, we could swoop in at once and make sure they had all the care in the world and never had to worry about a thing. But Amaya had to choose between living the life she wanted professionally or making sure her sister was looked after, a choice that seemed so unjust, it made me clench my fists at my sides in a fury.

“So I put her in the home so I could go out to work and afford it,” she went on. “And I know it—fuck, I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was so scared about starting there, not just because I’d be away from her after all that time but because I knew I’d just be pouring money into that place to look after her and that I’d probably never be able to save up enough to get a live-in nurse or something like that. And then when she turned eighteen, I’d need to find something else for her, and fuck, it just would have been a mess.”

She trailed off and stared into space, and it suddenly began to click why she’d been so keen on signing that contract when we’d first met. I could still hear the traces of fear and worry in her voice, leftover from a time when she had to hang on to them to avoid getting complacent. Even here, with me, so far removed from the life she’d had when we’d met, the concern about where her next paycheck was coming from and how she was going to look after her sister was apparent.

“Come on.” I touched her arm gently. I knew she’d demanded nothing but the platonic, but it looked as though she needed some comfort right there and then, and I was more than happy to give it to her. She shook her head and lowered her gaze.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I know you’re not good with all this emotional stuff.”

“Not the best,” I agreed with a smile, and I took her bags from her.

“I don’t want to ruin this.” She quickly shook her head and turned her attention back to the clothes. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

“Whatever you want,” I agreed, and she picked up the dress she had been looking at for her sister once more and gave it a once-over.

“So, what do you think?” She held it up again, and I nodded.

“I think she’s going to love it,” I replied firmly, and I waved over the store assistant. “Could we have this bagged and gift-wrapped, please?”

The assistant nodded, and I could see she was bursting with questions after witnessing that little exchange, but I had no intention of giving them to her, not one little bit. Instead, I turned back to Amaya, who smiled at me with something close to relief painted on her face.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For all of this. And especially the dress. I’ll make sure to tell Jolene you got it for her.”

“Any time,” I assured her. The moment passed and the two of us got back to our day together. I was more careful with her this time around, talking gently and moving slowly, helping her with her bags and letting her take the lead.

I let her get everything she wanted, practically insisting, determined to show her a good time after what she’d just told me. She deserved it, to be treated to the kind of life she had been forced to put on the back burner after her parents had passed away. I had lost my mother, too, of course, but I had never had to worry about how I would support myself or keep Cleo safe and sound. I was lucky, and now that she was here, I could at least share a little of that luck with her. We shopped until we were weighed down with bags, and I carried every single one, happy to do anything I could for her.