I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(14)

I shook my head, as if I could physically knock the thoughts out that way. It was ridiculous that I was even considering the possibility of Daniel's guilt. But I was just trying to be realistic. How would the courts see it? They certainly wouldn't be sympathetic towards a man like him. Then again, with his money, he could hire one of those lawyers that everyone hates.

Then again, he didn’t actually have any of his money just at the moment.

Daniel finally called Lindsey in the late afternoon, and after she'd finished berating him for not calling her immediately, she got a ticket on the next plane out. I felt a tremendous sense of relief knowing she'd be here. I didn't get to spend as much time with my sister in law as I would have liked to, but everything I knew of her indicated that she wasn't easily shaken. She was the perfect person to have around in a crisis. And maybe, just maybe, she'd have more of an idea of how to comfort Daniel than I did.

I went with him to the airport to pick her up. I was surprised that she didn't just hire a town car or something, but maybe Daniel was just anxious to see her. If he was, he certainly wasn't telling me about it. In fact, I wasn't one hundred percent sure that he realized I was in the car until he turned and spoke to me.

"I know the head of the security here. I think they'll let us through so we can meet her at the gate."

"Uh…" I glanced at him, sidelong. "You sure about that? I really feel like we don't need trouble with the TSA on top of everything."

He didn't say anything, but thankfully, Lindsey was waiting for us by the passenger pickup area so the issue never arose.

She went to Daniel wordlessly, her face drawn and tight, and pulled him into a long hug. Neither one of them moved for almost a full minute. When Daniel finally pulled away, I searched his face for something. Anything. But his expression was still stony.

I picked up Lindsey's bag and started hauling it towards the trunk, which finally got Daniel's attention.

"Wait," he said, reaching out. "I'll get it."

"Already did," I muttered, slamming the trunk shut. He guided Lindsey towards the passenger seat without saying a word, and I folded myself into the backseat and kept quiet for the ride home.

"I can't believe it," Lindsey kept saying, over and over again. "Those bastards." She asked the same questions over and over, the questions to which there were no answers, but Daniel answered them patiently, which so much as a "like I just told you…" I told myself it was completely normal, completely understandable, for him to feel more comfortable around his sister than he did around me. They'd grown up together, and we…

We were still basically strangers.

No, that was ridiculous. We'd been living together for more than two years, and even if he hadn't truly been in a relationship for all that time, we'd gotten to know each other. Hadn't we?

I stared at the ceiling, wondering if he thought the same thing. Did he look at me sometimes and wonder who I really was?

No, he must have better things to do.

When we got home, Lindsey installed herself in the kitchen and immediately began cooking spaghetti and meatballs. I understood the impulse, and after a while, I went into the kitchen to help her. It was warm and permeated with the smell of garlic, and for a moment I almost forgot that everything was falling apart around us.

"He's not going to eat, you know," I said, finally, as I finished chopping an onion.

Lindsey twisted a handful of leaves off one of the basil plants in the window planter. "I bet you he will," she said.

I should have known she'd take it as a challenge.

And she was right, after all. By the time the smell had permeated the whole apartment, Daniel came wandering down the stairs, looking like death warmed over. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he had the darkest circles under his eyes I'd ever seen. He hovered behind us for a while, like a ghost, until he finally spoke up.

"When will dinner be ready?"

"Anytime, kiddo," said Lindsey, pulling a bowl out of the cabinet. She started dishing out a generous helping, and I almost told her to stop - Daniel always measured his pasta before he ate it - but then I realized this was hardly a day to be sticking to a diet. He sat down and devoured the whole thing, so quickly that I almost didn't believe what I was seeing. Daniel Thorne, eating pasta and meatballs made with eighty percent ground beef? And not a food scale in sight?

I had a much smaller serving, which I poked at tentatively. My stomach felt like a clenched fist. Daniel wasn't speaking to me, still - barely looking at me, and I felt guilty that I was even noticing at a time like this. He had enough to worry about without constantly stroking my ego, didn't he? But all I wanted was some tiny acknowledgement. I just wanted him to act like he remembered I was there.








CHAPTER FIVE





After dinner, I ended up in my studio. I just wanted to be alone for a while, and my absence didn’t seem to bother Daniel.

I picked up a pencil and studied it. I'd never had much luck drawing while I was stressed, but I had to do something to occupy my time. I stared at the paper on the easel for a while, finally lifting the pencil and making two long, sweeping, slightly curved lines across it. This was exactly how I always started every drawing when I was a kid. Two hills, and off to one side - a tree.