I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(55)

Would it change the way I felt about him? Was there anything he could do, that would make me love him less?

Suddenly, I knew the answer. And it terrified me. But not at all in the way that I expected.

"Of course not," I said, my voice sounding much more bitter than I intended.

"Well then," he said. "It doesn’t matter, does it?"

"I’d like to know," I said. "I’d like to know that you trust me."

"You know that already," he said.

"You keep saying that." I stared at my beer. "But ever since this whole thing went down, you’ve barely talked to me. And I don’t know if it’s because you just don’t have any energy left, or if it’s because you’re hiding something. But either way, I don’t really know how you expect me to feel about it."

"I didn’t want to burden you," he said, in a tone that suggested even he wasn’t convinced of this excuse.

"Wrong," I said. "Try again."

I heard him shift a little on the stool, and I finally looked at him again. He’d turned towards me, his face indescribably tired and sad. He was picking at the label of his beer bottle with his thumb.

"People always think they want to help," he said. "But they don’t. Not really. Nobody wants to hear about how much I worry. How that’s the only thing that drives me. People ask all the time. Every interview, there’s some variation of it. What pushes you forward? What makes you tick? Nobody wants to hear the real answer. It’s fear. Fear of losing ground, fear of becoming irrelevant. Every accomplishment just becomes another albatross around your neck. The bar’s being raised, every day, every hour, every minute. Something like this happens, and it just confirms every fear I’ve ever had. It validates all those sleepless nights. I spend every free moment thinking of something that can go wrong - of how the rug’s going to get pulled out from under my feet - but I still never manage to guess at what actually happens. This f*cking disaster, and the one before - two, if you count Flo trying to ruin our f*cking lives - who could have possibly seen that coming?"




"So why worry?" I said, quietly.

He stared at me, balefully.

"I’m not trying to be flippant," I said, laying my hand on top of his. His thumb finally stilled. "I’m serious. If you can’t possibly see it coming, when it happens, why spend time worrying about it?"

"Because I can’t stop," he said, looking at me incredulously. As if it were that obvious.

"Can’t, or won’t?"

"Both?" He pulled his hand away. "And as much as I appreciate your support, you really don’t want to be dragged even further into this than you already have been."

"Daniel, I have paparazzi following me. I don’t think I could possibly be dragged in any further."

"You think that," he said. "But it always gets worse. Always."

"Okay, but you run a technology company. You’re not Marilyn Monroe." I sat up straighter. "At a certain point, you have to relax."

I could see his lip twitch, like he wanted to sneer.

"Come on," I said. "Don’t hold yourself back. Tell me how you really feel."

"How I really feel?" he said, finally letting the sneer come to life. "Fine. You’re right. I’m not Marilyn Monroe. I’m not you, either. You think you know what’s going through my head, but you don’t."

I swallowed hard.

"Fine," I said, quietly. "But just for the record, I never thought I knew what was going through your head. I’m sorry if it seemed like I did."

"Now you apologize," he said, almost laughing, bitterly. "You’ve been so ready to get involved, all the time, Maddy knows best - and now you’re pretending like you’re sorry, because that’s what you think I want to hear. What do you want to hear, Maddy? That I’ve never made a mistake? That I’ve never capitalized on someone else’s idea, not even a little? Is there anyone out there who hasn’t borrowed something to achieve success? You want a clear-cut answer, did I steal from those kids or not? Because that’s what they were at the time, by the way - kids. We all were. I hope to God you’re never called into court to account for a mistake you might have made when you were in college. Because there’s not always a clear-cut answer, Maddy. There’s not always one person to blame. I know that’s what you want. That’s what everyone wants. It’s easier, and it’s simpler, and it makes a better headline."

I stared at him. I couldn’t reconcile his behavior with the way it had been before; the way he’d been so thoughtful and kind, thanking me for taking action, giving me credit for helping him through it. I couldn’t resist taking one more jab at him. "So you did do it."

He stood, so abruptly that the stool rattled beneath him, almost tipping over. "That’s really all you care about, isn’t it?" he almost shouted, slamming his hand down on the counter - whether to accentuate his point or steady himself, I wasn’t sure. "There was nothing formal back then, no contracts, nothing written down. It was a free exchange of ideas. If by ‘exchange’ you mean they just leeched off of me and contributed nothing of their own. Until one day, when they finally had an idea I could work with. I didn’t take it on purpose. Or maybe I did. Maybe there was some part of me that wanted to get back at them for everything, for the long months of subtle mockery and using me for their purposes and calling it ‘friendship.’ But it doesn’t matter now, does it? I paid my dues. They got everything they deserve from me. But now they want more. Everyone always wants more." He was headed for the end table, grabbing his keys and shoving them in his pocket. "I’m going out. Clear my head."