Normally, I’d throw in a funny quip to lighten the mood, but there isn’t any for this. And I don’t want to hide from her. So, I step closer to her, taking her hand in mine.
“My father died . . . and although I have my mom, she wasn’t emotionally there for a while.” I inhale. “I know it’s not the same, but if you ever want to talk about it . . .”
“I’m good. I’d rather stay here. What’s your next guess?”
“My next guess?” I ask.
“Yeah. I gave you a big clue about my life, so you must have a guess.”
We continue to walk, and I keep thinking. She gave me some information about herself that is useful, so I don’t want to push too hard.
“So are you going to try?”
“Hmm. Let me think about this,” I say. We stop walking, and she turns in my direction. I make a straight face, knowing my next guess is so stupid that I might not be able to control my laughter.
“Spit it out,” she says with a straight face.
“You’re secretly Oliver Twist. An orphan trying to make it in the big city.”
“That is officially the worst guess I’ve ever heard. I told you all of those things.”
“But you didn’t tell me your name, Casper.”
“Willow. My name is Willow. You don’t need to know my last name . . . at least not yet.”
“The plot thickens.”
She nods, then lets out a sigh. I can tell she plans on telling me. Not today and maybe not even tomorrow, but whatever it is, it’s big.
She wants to trust me. I won’t give her a reason not to.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Willow
After an hour of wandering almost aimlessly around Chelsea Market, crossing off check marks on the scavenger hunt, we finally parted ways, him with a grin, and me feeling lighter than I had in months.
A day has passed, and it’s now Sunday. Once again, Jaxson is my tour guide. We meet on the corner of a random block in the city, shivering in the cold air. The temperature continues to drop. When I exhale, I can almost see my breath. I pull my coat tight around my body, tucking my scarf in to cover the exposed skin. I look over at Jax, who’s now finally donning a coat. It’s odd to see him in one. Every other time I’ve met him, he’s always in a thermal and jeans. Well, except the time at the fundraiser. Today, he’s in his normal attire. He has a hat on his head, which is funny because for the first time in weeks, I’m in public, during the day, and I don’t have a hat on. He looks handsome, his face has a light dusting of scruff. Underneath his jacket is a thermal, but today there are no holes in his jeans. Sneakers on his feet. If his face wasn’t so recognizable, no one would know he’s a billionaire.
But looks can be deceiving. Take me, for example. No one would know. I know my time is running out, and I’ve already decided to tell him. I just don’t know when. To be honest, I’ve enjoyed living in this bubble—since I know once I tell him, it will pop. I tell myself I’m waiting to make sure I trust him, but there’s no measure of doubt I do. I’m not ready.
Together, we walk to the street. He lifts an arm to hail a cab. From where I’m standing, I admire him.
He looks so natural on the streets of Manhattan. Like a college boy. I know he’s older and well out of school, but here on the street, he looks more like an NYU student than the COO of a company.
I have only ever seen him twice at his office, and even then, he didn’t appear to fit in. I wonder where he feels like himself. I wonder if he’s like me and doesn’t.
Cars rush by as we stand and wait. Eventually, a yellow cab stops in front of us. His light is on, ready to take us where we need to go. Jax opens the door for me, and I slide in until I’m sitting behind the driver. Jax slips in next and closes the door. He fires off an address, and I’m not one to pay attention, but it’s downtown.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” he says.
“Do I get any hints?”
He shakes his head. Pain in the ass. Telling me where we’re going would be too easy for Jax. I think he enjoys getting a rile out of me.
A little part of me thinks I enjoy it too. The banter makes me feel young as if I don’t have a care in the world. It makes me feel how I used to feel before the curtain of lies was lifted.
But now that I see everything, I appreciate this feeling even more, which is why I don’t want to talk to him about who I really am.