I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(32)

"Hey," said Lindsey, with a smile. "No guarantees."

***

A few days later, I was on my way home from yoga after finally paying the stupid water bill. Blessedly, no one at the studio ever seemed interested in talking to me beyond the basic pleasantries, so I never found myself engaged in conversations about Daniel’s troubles - it remained a sanctuary for me. On impulse, I stepped into the hardware store on the way home, picking up a small bag of potting soil for the basil plants. I’d noticed the current setup was starting to look a little mildewed, and I had no idea if it had ever been replaced since I’d moved in.

"Hello?" I called out when I walked in the door. "Anybody home?"

Abject silence greeted me; I wasn’t surprised, really, but I had to admit it was starting to get lonely around here. I sighed, dropping the potting soil on the counter and bringing the planter over to the sink. I carefully dug each plant out of the packed-down soil, setting them down gently in the sink. They were starting to get root-bound.

I pulled out a big garbage bag and shook the planter over it, jostling the old soil to loosen and fall out.

Thump. Thump.

Okay, that didn’t sound like dirt.

I set the planter aside and peered into the bag.

It was something in plastic. No, somethings. I reached in gingerly and snatched one of them with two fingers, shaking the loose dirt off as I lifted it out of the bag. It was a Ziploc, an old one, and there was something rectangular inside it, wrapped in foil.

Oh, Daniel.

"You nutjob," I muttered, knowing what I was going to find even before I unwrapped it.

Oh, yes. It was a stack of hundred dollar bills.

I knelt down, digging further into the garbage bag and pulling out another. And another. And another. Four packages in all - no wonder the soil was starting to get mildewed. It was amazing that the plants were doing as well as they were, without being able to drain properly. I wasn’t going to take the time to count it, but each stack was thick - maybe fifty bills or more.

For some reason, my heart was pounding in my throat. I’d done absolutely nothing wrong, but I still felt a powerful urge to cover my tracks, and I had no idea how much longer I was going to be alone. Hastily, I set the bags of money in the sink along with the plants. I took the planter and poured a thin layer of soil along the bottom, then carefully lined up the money more or less the way I imagined it had been before.

Something made me stop, halfway between arranging them and grabbing the soil to make the next layer.

Without knowing exactly why, I hastily opened each bag, unwrapping the stacks and thumbing a few bills out of each. I stuffed them in the side of my bra, thoroughly re-wrapping the foil and making sure the bags were pushed flat and sealed. I poured on another layer of soil, then nested the plants in, taking the time even in my frantic state to massage the roots a little. Then, I filled the rest of the planter with soil, making sure to pack it down so it didn’t look too fresh.

I folded up what remained of the soil in the package and shoved it into the garbage bag, tying it up quickly and rushing it to the garbage chute down the hall. Back inside, I swept up the stray dirt into the dustpan and tossed it out the window, finally replacing the planter in the exact spot where it had always been.

There - no one would be any the wiser.

I washed my hands, which were still trembling a little. I had no idea why I felt like a criminal, other than the fact that he obviously didn’t want me to know about this money. But that wasn’t exactly my fault. If he didn’t want me to stumble across it, he should have done a better job of caring for his plants.

I walked upstairs, still feeling nervous and guilty, and carefully folded up each of the bills I’d taken. I tucked them into the very bottom of my makeup bag, underneath the old stuff I hardly ever used, and zipped it shut. There was absolutely zero chance of him ever coming across it in there.




I sat down on the edge of the bed. There was no doubt in my mind that he had other stashes of money, elsewhere in the apartment. Whatever he’d been dipping into to pay rent and bills obviously wasn’t this; it clearly hadn’t been touched in a long time. So it stood to reason that he wouldn’t he dipping into it for a while longer, to notice that anything was gone.

Anyway, I had a right to look after my own interests. Especially with Daniel behaving the way he was, and our future being so unsure, I had every right to make sure that I was taken care of.

If I kept telling myself that I didn’t feel guilty, perhaps I could make it come true.





CHAPTER TEN





I still hadn’t told Daniel about my placement at the show.

At first, I’d been telling myself that I was holding onto it until things "calmed down," but then I realized nothing was going to be calm for a long, long time. After that, I actually tried a few times - I’d open my mouth to speak, and then I’d look at him, and I’d think - why? He wouldn’t care. He was too busy with everything he had to worry about. There was no use in me mentioning it, only to see the underwhelmed look on his face. The hollowness in his voice when he congratulated me, the distracted way he’d kiss me on the forehead.

But telling Lindsey was another matter entirely. I considered not doing it - there was a chance she’d tell Daniel, even if I asked her not to. But I supposed I didn’t really mind if he found out. Maybe I wouldn’t even mind if he cared enough to show up unexpectedly…