Yours, For Good (Cozy Latine Billionaires #4)

30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Nora

Before visiting New York from Lock Willow, and not knowing what was ahead of me, I decided to book a hotel for the night. The first thing I did when I returned to my room from Javier's house was throw myself on the bed and cry.

I let the tears fall freely. Sadness overflowed and I allowed it to move through me, because until I made my mind about the future, it felt like I was losing one of my best friends.

In that sadness came grief for all the friends that weren't. Sorrow for my mom who had gone too soon. Heartache for all the years I had spent alone while surrounded by people at the John Grier Home. The misery of it ran down my face and wet the comforter under my skin, until I had no more left.

Evening darkened the window in my room when I realized my face was dry. I took a deep breath and turned on my back, hands on my soft stomach and my skirt tangling between my legs. Random memories darted through my mind— every time it felt like Javier understood me without having to say a word, or when I found his book at Lock Willow, or when he told me he hid something. Looking back, it was obvious. Evidently I wouldn't ever make it as a detective, because I should have figured it out then. But I was so sure Mr. B. was old I just didn't… it didn't occur to me…

One of those strange moments of awareness fell over me, to the point it seemed like I sank into the mattress.

Javier had been Mr. Beanpole all along. It had been his shadow at the doors of the John Grier Home that changed my life. Or, seen the other way… I kissed Mr. B.

Even though I'd tried disregarding the fact, I hadn't only wanted friendship with Javier. Ugh. If my first reaction to seeing him again was any indication, my kissing feelings for him had evolved into something more powerful. How grossly inconvenient, considering my long standing concerns regarding romantic love and, well… everything. Fucking. Else.

I allowed myself a groan and slammed my hands on the mattress at my side. My pinky finger grazed against something solid… his journals, which I had thrown on the bed right before I landed on it face down.

I turned to my side and stared at the notebooks. They were about half an inch in thickness, in plain dark blue covers with an elastic to keep them close. A few tabs stood out of the pages in standard sticky-note yellow.

Right. He marked the places where he talked about me.

I picked one of the notebooks at random and opened it on one of the sticky notes. I skimmed through the page until I found my name.

… Nora to Lock Willow. When she wrote the letter asking for help I couldn't ignore the fact I had the perfect candidate; I know because Lizzie helped raise me. She did for me what Nora hopes to provide for kids, and I know Nora is getting a lot out of her time there. I worry that now that she found my old book she will figure out my deception— I'd hate for her to put the clues together and miss out on the opportunity because of her rightful anger at me. Something tells me Nora would rush to leave just to be free of me and lick her wounds on her own.

If she ever learns about my duplicity, I hope she screams at me and lets me try to make it better. I wouldn't want her to have to deal with it on her own. Then again, she might do best asking Sally for help; if I am the one to hurt her, I may not deserve the privilege of trying to fix it.

My throat closed again. On instinct, I skipped the next section and jumped to a later yellow marker.

… Nora the library at the old family home today. I worry that I'm too deep in my feelings for her. I know there's no chance I'll get to act on my emotions that way, and I should do better to keep them in control. I promised her friendship! I can't steal a kiss from her on the mezzanine… or ever. No matter how much I wish I could.

I closed the journal with a snap. My heart beat fast. The script was the same as in the cards he sent with flowers as Mr. B.— he had written them himself. It further meshed the pieces of the past year, to the point my benefactor's hair slowly turned darker in my mind, and his eyes turned blue.

Javier had marked at least twenty pages in this journal. I sat up and stacked the notebooks together; all three had as many or more. If the first two passages I read pointed at a pattern, giving me his journals was part of his atonement. He was willing to let me see everything, including his feelings for me.

I didn't think I wanted romance in my life but then… you happened , he said after his confession .

As recently as my last week in the John Grier Home, I would have said Javier's duplicity was the kind of dishonesty that would have me write someone off my life. Now that I was here, it wasn't that easy. Sad as I was, hurt and angry as I was… I didn't hate him. I still liked him.

It didn't mean I could move past what happened. Sometimes, loving yourself meant saying goodbye to someone important to you.

Javier had said he would let me go. He was also the first person to know about my past and want to stay. He didn't care that I didn't know my own family, my traditions, that I had no one and nothing until he chose me for one of his programs.

I covered my face with my hands and took a deep breath. Another. One more, before I spent the next two days in my hotel room reading his journals from start to finish.

In lieu of the letters I would have sent via email to Mr. B., I journaled on my laptop. I read a couple of books on relationships and took notes.

I still didn't have a decision when I returned to Lock Willow, or when I started receiving his emails, but no one could say I wasn't working on it.