Yours, For Good (Cozy Latine Billionaires #4)

28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Date : June 3 To : Mr. Smith From : Eleanora Subject : I'm… what?

Dear Mr. B.,

I'm not sure what to make of this— maybe I should wait to write to you until my heart is not beating this fast— but my thoughts are going a mile a second and I need to do something about it.

I just responded to Mr. Griggs's email. OF COURSE I'LL MEET YOU, MISTER B.!! He didn't need to say it was very important to meet to discuss critical issues or that you'd be grateful and all those things. I'm taking them into consideration but let's be honest. You could have just said, "wanna meet"? And I would have been there at the time and address you requested.

I will be there, Mr. Beanpole. You can be sure of it.

I will also keep this private and not let other people know about it, not even Mrs. Semple (I've been having a peaceful but busy time here at Lock Willow, by the way. Even if it's made me miss some people more than I already did). Mr. Griggs didn't explain much, except to say that it had to do with protecting the incubator opportunity for future students. It's all good. I can wait with my questions for now, because Mr. Griggs said you would answer any and all questions I had. Mind. Blown.

I can't believe I get to end this email this way, but…

I'll see you next week!

Nora

Nora

I had thoroughly meant the letters I sent to Mr. B. where I told him I would let him go. When I said goodbye to his condo in San Francisco, I said goodbye to him, too. Without the sponsorship and without his presence or advice, I didn't think we could have a relationship at all.

Getting Mr. Griggs's email had changed things. Even if not a promise that there would be a relationship with Mr. B.— one where maybe I knew his real name— it was a sign that there had been reasons for how things went down. That maybe we could have the familial relationship I had dreamed of when I sent him that first letter.

Now I walked down a street on the Upper East Side in Manhattan that looked straight out of a movie. Old trees and brownstones, their walls half-covered by ivy thick with late spring growth, and wrought black iron going up the stoops. The view made me feel like a romcom heroine. It seemed Mr. B. lived in a beautiful, expensive side of town, and I wasn't surprised.

The night before I had memorized the map to get there, and now turned the last left toward his townhouse. From my investigation, it seemed he lived within a generous walking distance from the Pendletons but, considering how this area was full of wealthy folk, it didn't mean they actually knew each other. All their proximity meant was that I was thinking of Javier even more than usual. It had been in this area that I had last seen him, after all. Which had been the problem with Lock Willow, too.

My life had been full of him for three-quarters of a year, and it only made sense how many things reminded me of him.

Wind played with my hair and the skirt I had chosen for the day. My heart flipped at the thought of Javier, and the last time I'd seen him… and the kiss we shared. I had almost texted him a thousand times but, every time I grabbed my phone, I remembered he hid something from me. That I had kissed him, and even if we could figure out a way to be friends after that, I didn't know if I could trust him with all of me. I didn't think friendship could be what I wanted if every time I opened up to him, I knew there was a place inside him and his life I would never reach.

But wasn't it his right to keep parts of him his own? Maybe that would be one of the first questions I'd ask Mr. B., if this meeting turned out to be the start of a friendship with an octogenarian.

Palpitations fluttered in my chest when I saw the house numbers approaching the one I looked for. One, two more townhouses and I stopped in front of my destination, and I had to force myself to breathe.

Mr. Smith's home was gorgeous. A mix of tan and reddish brown stone gave it a classic look, with greenery at its feet half-hiding the lower level windows. The stoop ended on a stone awning and a wooden double door; to the side, the front of the home had what my research had called an Edwardian bay window from top to bottom. The night before, I had imagined going up the stairs with a big smile on my face; at the moment, I had to lean on the iron railings edging the stoop.

It took several deep breaths to calm me down enough to ring the doorbell. I counted the time it took for the door to open in heartbeats. One, two… ten…

Only one panel opened, to reveal an East Asian presenting person in masc clothes.

He smiled at me. "Hey there."

"Hi! I'm Nora." My voice had come out higher than usual in my nerves, and it distracted me enough I forgot to explain why I was there.

It didn't seem to matter.

"I thought you might be. I'm Griggs." He offered me his hand.

"Oh! Hello, Mr. Griggs!" I smiled and shook his hand. "It's lovely to put a face to those emails!"

"Likewise, but please call me Griggs." He moved aside and let me into the foyer. "I'm on my way out. He's waiting for you at the end of the hall."

"Thank you."

"Have a good day."

"Thank you," I repeated, and watched him close the door behind himself.

I stood in the foyer with my heart in my throat, and looking without seeing at the back of the doors for a little too long.

When it finally clicked that I was supposed to move, I walked through the hallway with slow, deliberate steps. I was seconds away from meeting Mr. B.! And his house was gorgeous. The architectural designs in the crown molding and walls pointed at the age of the building, but it had evidently been renovated recently enough to look contemporary, too. The walls were white, the details dark, and the parquet flooring a pale warm brown that went well with mid-century modern details in the furniture.

After passing a set of stairs that seemed to go up and down for several stories, the space opened into a small gallery and, past an arch, into a living room. I crossed the rounded opening and stopped in my tracks.

The room was beautiful. Navy blue wainscotting gave texture to the walls, and a large fireplace centered the eye around the two sofas and the two armchairs around it. A huge painting rested above the marble-looking mantle, and a few big plants livened the place. Utterly cozy, the room seemed to invite long evenings of conversation, with the cabinet across from the dark fireplace full of glasses and bottles. If I continued walking to the back of the room, I would meet a big window wall, opening to what looked like a private garden space.

I had no intention of doing such a thing, when Javier stood in the way and stole all my attention.

He stared at me, immobile and a little pale. He didn't say a thing; he seemed stuck waiting for my response, and ready to react if I appeared to make a run for the door.

Judging by the conflicting instincts coming to life inside, he might have to wait for a long time. My brain didn't seem capable of deciding whether I should run to his arms, or look around for Mr. B., or ponder on the big questions of the universe.

The first thing to come out of my mouth didn't fully make sense to me, but I heard the question clearly.

"What are you doing here?"

He didn't respond, but his gulp was forceful enough that I could see it from my spot. Unconsciously, I took a few steps his way.

He looked amazing, in dark wash blue jeans and a simple light gray button up that seemed bespoke, they fit him so well. He wore his glasses which was basically criminal to anyone attracted to men, because it left you with no choice but to lock your legs so you wouldn't melt at his feet.

I missed Javier so much. Seeing him out of the blue scratched out all my doubts, and replaced them with the need to get his arms around me once more. Get my lips on him again. If I were brave enough, perhaps I would even ask for more.

Before I could forget about the world and my reasons to be there, I lassoed my feelings into the right shelf of my mind and brought myself to the right train of thought.

I gulped as well. "Did Mister Bea… Did Mister Smith bring you here?"

Maybe he had wanted to help in the only way he could. Maybe he— but no. Javier shook his head.

"No. He…" Javier frowned and stopped himself. He took a quick breath, like he prepared to jump off a cliff. "It's me. I'm him."

I blinked. Frowned. Stared at Javier, and waited for things to make sense. They didn't.

He faced me with his tall body open yet with a clear strain to his limbs… a man preparing himself for the firing squad.

He lifted his chin as if ready to offer it for a fist. "I am Mister Beanpole, Nora."

A single breath could have tossed me in the wind, the house of cards of my emotions floating away in the breeze.