The Billionaire's Boyfriend Read online

  “I guess I just needed some time to think.”

  “More like you needed some time to catch your breath. Today was like running the Boston Marathon. Not that I’ve ever done it, but if I ever have the inclination to do so, remind me to pack my hipflask.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being there when I needed you. For helping me out when I needed it most.”

  “By helping, you mean racing all over town like a lunatic.”

  I nodded, then slumped onto a stool. “God, is that what I am? A lunatic?”

  “Oh Matthew, if you’re any kind of lunatic, you’re the best kind. You’re a lunatic of love. Heavens to Betsy, watching you race all over the city in the name of love was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

  “It was?”

  “Absolutely. You should write it into a book someday.”

  I sighed. “I wanted this to be more than just a romance story. I wanted it to be the beginning of my life with Cal. Now… what’s the point of anything anymore. I might as well just curl up in a ball and die.”

  “Well, before you go and tuck yourself into an early grave, choose some flowers for your wreath for me, would ya?” Mrs. Mulroney said, waving at a few buckets of blooms with her snippers. “I’ll start putting it together now for you. It’ll save me having to choose them myself.”

  I guess Mrs. Mulroney’s soft side had a short fuse.

  “Well… if you must know, I’d like these lilies as a centerpiece for my coffin,” I said, pulling a bunch of lilies out of a bucket beside me.

  “Can’t have ‘em,” Mrs. Mulroney said matter-of-factly. “A gentleman came in here just before you arrived and bought that very bunch. In fact, he bought all the lilies. You’ll have to pick something else.”

  “Fine,” I said, feeling a little rejected. Geez, these were my funeral flowers after all. “All right then, I’d like a wreath of tulips and carnations.”

  “No and no,” was Mrs. Mulroney’s short reply.

  “Why not?”

  “Because firstly they don’t go together. That’s like putting chutney in your Cheerios. Won’t work. Secondly, they’re no longer for sale. Somebody paid for those just a few minutes ago. I haven’t had a chance to wrap them yet. Choose something else.”

  “Okay then,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “I’ll take roses. I want every rose you have in the shop.”

  “Can’t have ‘em,” Mrs. Mulroney said without even looking up this time.

  “Don’t tell me, they’re sold.”

  “Yep.”

  “All of them?”

  “Every last one.”

  “Are you serious? I’m trying to choose my burial bouquet and it just so happens that someone has bought every flower I want on my coffin? Do you have any flowers left for sale?”

  Mrs. Mulroney gave the question a few seconds’ thought then said, “Actually… no. As a matter of fact, they’re all sold. Every last one.”

  I looked at her incredulously. “Someone bought all your flowers? Who does that?”

  “I do,” said a voice from the door.

  I spun around, as though my heart was on a string and someone just yanked at it and turned me around.

  No, not just someone.

  Cal.

  All at once I was filled with conflicting emotions.

  I wanted to rush up to him and throw my arms around him.

  I wanted to burst into tears and crash to the floor.

  I wanted to run away and hide on a rooftop where nobody could find me.

  Then I saw the look in his eyes.

  He looked as nervous and sick as I felt.

  “Hi,” was all he managed.

  “Hi,” was all I could say back to him.

  “And with that, I think I’ll leave the pair of you alone,” said Mrs. Mulroney, untying her apron and picking up a bunch of beautifully wrapped flowers from a bucket at her feet. “It’s time for me to make one last delivery for the day. Lucky, I put these aside before Mr. Croft decided to buy every last petal in the store.” She smelled the flowers in her hand then grinned proudly. “I think Mr. Dellucci is going to love them.”

  With that she left the shop, hanging the Closed sign on the door as she shut it behind her, leaving Cal and I alone inside.

  For a moment neither of us spoke.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  I didn’t know what he wanted me to say, whether or not he was waiting for an apology or an explanation or a simple goodbye.

  Finally, I broke the silence.

  “You bought all of Mrs. Mulroney’s flowers. Who for?”

  “Who do you think? I’m sorry I left you in Rome. It was wrong of me.”

  “I’m sorry I gave you reason to leave me in Rome. That was wrong of me.”

  Cal moved a few steps closer, stopping beside some potted gardenia flowers to smell their sweet scent. “You know, the weirdest thing happened to me this afternoon. I wanted to vanish, just be alone to figure out what was in my head. I was inside the Met, just strolling through the ancient Roman relics on my way to see the Temple of Dendur, when suddenly, over the PA system, this guy who sounded a lot like Barry White started telling the whole museum how much he loved me.”

  I gulped and my dry throat clicked. At that moment, I could have picked up a bucket of flower water and drank the entire thing. “Wow, that’s weird.”

  “You… didn’t happen to… have anything to do with that. Did you?”

  “No. Yes. To my defense, he did do some adlibbing.” I smacked my forehead with my hand. “God, you think I’m crazy, don’t you? Well, you know what? You’re right, I am. I’m crazy and I’m stupid and I’m embarrassing and I know those are exactly the things that most billionaire’s put right at the bottom of the list when they’re looking for someone to spend the rest of their life with. But if I’ve learned one thing about you, Calvin Croft, it’s that you’re not ‘most billionaires’. There’s nothing arrogant or smug or conceited about you. You’re nothing but the perfect gentleman. I’m the one who was arrogant. I let my jealousy tear us apart. I let my fears convince me that I wasn’t good enough to be a part of your life… until I was faced with the thought of never having you in mine. I lost my faith in romance… just when I’d finally found love.”

  I sniffed and wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

  Cal said nothing.

  I threw my hands up, knowing I’d lost him. Knowing there was one more elephant in the room I hadn’t even mentioned. So, what the heck. “And then there’s Angus. I know who Angus is now, and I’m sorry. Have you told him about me? Did you mention what a total asshole I am? God, I can’t even imagine what today’s text message from the cosmos was. Did it say, ‘Cut the past loose, before you catch some of that crazy’? Or ‘Avoid stalkers at the museum, that’s how you end up being the plot of a B-grade horror movie’? Or maybe ‘Next time someone runs you over with their bike, get a background check done on them’?”

  Cal couldn’t help but laugh a little. He stepped closer to me… closer still… then pulled out his phone. “Actually, we did talk about you today. And he did write back and mention you in a text.”

  I sighed with embarrassment. “He did? Oh great.”

  “Well, I think it’s you he’s talking about. It’s not all that clear. Maybe you be the judge.”

  Cal handed me his phone.

  On the screen was a text message from Angus.

  It simply said—

  Give the schmuck a second chance.

  I laughed, and out came a tear or two. “Yup,” I sniffed again. “I’m pretty sure that’s me.”

  Cal smiled. “Then I’m pretty sure there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  * * *

  We didn’t take a limo. Instead we caught a taxi to an old, two story house in Brooklyn with paint fraying on the window frames and a front porch that needed fixing.

  “This is where Angus lives?” I asked as he st
epped out of the cab.

  Cal pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “This is where we both live. Come on. Let me introduce you to Paulina.”

  I followed him up the steps and put my hand on the railing, which swayed precariously the moment I touched it.

  “Oh, don’t lean on that,” Cal warned. “Sorry, I keep meaning to get to it.”

  “You don’t hire someone to fix this stuff?”

  “I prefer not to,” Cal said. “I spend my life paying people to do things for me. Around here, I like to do everything myself. This was my dad’s place, that’s the way he would have liked it. The only person I pay to help around here is Paulina.”

  He slid his keys in the door and pushed it open, calling into the house, “Paulina. I’m home.”

  From inside the house, a middle-aged woman appeared wiping her hands on her apron. “Ah, Calvin. I wasn’t expecting you. I was just preparing some dinner for Angus.”

  “Paulina, this is Matt,” said Cal by way of introduction. “Matt, this is Paulina. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She keeps Angus and me out of trouble.”

  Paulina laughed. “Oh, Calvin. You’re too busy to get into trouble. Your brother on the other hand, he’s always up to no good.”

  From the kitchen came the whistle of a pot over-boiling. “Ah! My paella!” screeched Paulina, before promptly disappearing.

  “We’re gonna go up and see Angus,” Cal called after her.

  He led me up a narrow set of stairs to a landing with a bathroom and two closed doors. On one door was a New York registration plate souvenir that spelled CALVIN. On the next door was another fake plate that spelled ANGUS.

  We passed Calvin’s room and gently Cal knocked on his brother’s door. “Hey Angus, it’s me. I’ve brought someone I want you to meet.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then through the door we heard a voice call, “Is it the schmuck?”

  Cal had to cup his mouth with his hand to stop from laughing. “I think he’s talking about you.”

  Clearly an admission of guilt was in order. “Yes, it’s me, the schmuck,” I called back through the door.

  Slowly the door opened, and there to greet us was a five-foot-tall man with Down syndrome, a thick set of glasses, and a look in his eye that said he had a score to settle with me.

  “So, you’re the one who broke my little brother’s heart,” he said angrily. He plonked his hands on his hips like a fuming parent and added, “What do have to say for yourself?”

  “Oh… I… um… ah…”

  Angus suddenly burst out laughing, followed by his brother Cal.

  “I’m just trying to bust your balls,” Angus chuckled. “Come in and see my room.”

  As he waved us in, gesturing for us to follow him inside, Cal leaned close and whispered to me, “You’re the first guy I’ve ever dated who he’s invited in.”

  “You think I can’t hear you, Cal, but I can,” Angus said over his shoulder. “Of course, he’s the first one I’ve ever invited in. That’s because he’s the only one you’ve ever brought home.”

  “Is that true?” I smiled.

  Cal shrugged. “Well, yeah. I guess the other guys were all about themselves. Whereas you… you’re the first guy who made me feel like an ‘us’.”

  “Not to mention the fact that they were all pretentious assholes,” Angus added, throwing in his evidently very honest opinion. He turned to me then and said, “But you… you’re too clumsy to be a pretentious asshole.”

  “How do you know I’m clumsy?”

  “I’ve been stalking you.”

  “Stalking me?”

  “Of course. If you wanna date my brother, I’m gonna Google the shit out of you. By the way, those paparazzi photos of you were terrible. You need to learn which is your good side.”

  I turned left and right. “I have a good side? Which is it?”

  That’s when I noticed the walls of Angus’ room. They weren’t covered in photos or posters or wallpaper. They were stacked up to the ceiling with hundreds upon hundreds of fortune cookie boxes.

  I stepped toward them and saw that they were all from different restaurants and takeout shops across the country.

  San Francisco.

  Chicago.

  Philadelphia.

  Indianapolis.

  Jacksonville.

  Cincinnati.

  Oklahoma City.

  Tucson.

  The list went on and on and on.

  It were as though he’d built himself a fortress out of fortune cookie boxes.

  “They’re all different shapes. Different colors. Different packaging,” said Angus as he watched me stare in awe at his walls. “Just like people, I guess.”

  Angus stepped up beside me and pointed to a box. “This one is from a restaurant in El Paso called Miss Sung’s Dumplings. I spoke to the owner, she said all the fortunes it holds are happy ones. This one is from Jade Dynasty in Cleveland, where all the fortunes are random… the good, the bad, or the downright ugly. While this one is from a restaurant in Anchorage called the Ice Swan where the owner handwrites each individual fortune before sealing them in her own cookies.”

  “This must have taken years to collect all these,” I said.

  Angus replied, “Calvin’s my baby brother. I was seven years old when he was born. Sure, he thinks he looks after me now, but I’m the one that’s always looked after him all his life. I’ve been collecting these since the day he was born. I knew I had to be a good big brother, but didn’t know how. So, I used fortune cookies. All I ever wanted was to see him happy. And now he is. Finally. Thanks to you, Matt.”

  I turned to him, honestly surprised. “Really?”

  Angus nodded. “Really. Just make sure you don’t go all neurotic on him again like you did in Rome, otherwise I’ll kick your ass all the way to next Tuesday. Speaking of which, you owe me a Spaghetti Night.”

  “I won’t go all neurotic again, I swear.”

  Angus turned to Cal then and said, “I can take these down now. We don’t need them anymore. No more fortune cookies, no more words of wisdom, no more mystical messages. It’s time for you to take destiny into your own hands now.”

  With a lunge that startled both Angus and I, Cal launched himself at his smaller, older brother and hugged him so hard I thought a rib was going to crack.

  “Cal, back off!” Angus shouted in a muffled voice, his face squashed against Cal’s chest. “Is this how you thank me, by smothering me to death?”

  Cal released him and wiped away a tear with the heel of his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just… so…”

  “Happy, I know. I said that already. Do you need an interpreter?” With a Zen-like wave of his hands Angus announced, “My work here is done.” He turned and looked at me through the corner of his eye. “Just promise me you’ll never take up race car driving… or acting… or supermodelling.”

  “I don’t even have to work hard on keeping that promise. It’s a deal.”

  “Speaking of promises,” said Cal, turning to me with a wink. “There’s one promise I made that’s still outstanding.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  He smiled. “To take you to the Spanish Steps… hold you in my arms… and kiss you under the stars.”

  Chapter Nine

  The pinks and purples of the azaleas and camellias blushed by comparison to the twilight colors that rippled across the Roman skyline.

  One by one the stars dared to peer out from behind the deepening blue of night, and with his arms wrapped firmly around me, Cal smiled and declared, “On these Spanish Steps, with all of Rome spread before you, with centuries of love at our feet, and with your parents watching from above as I’m sure they are… will you, Signor Darcy, do me the honor of kissing me?”

  I smiled and gazed up at the stars, knowing Cal was right. Knowing that my parents were indeed looking down.

  With those stars still in my eyes I looked back at Cal. “I will, Signor Croft. I will indeed.”
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  And with that he planted his lips on mine.

  And I realized in that moment that Signor Ravello was right.

  No kiss had ever tasted so sweet.

  When our lips finally parted, Cal held me for a moment longer then gave a mischievous grin and said, “I may have one more surprise for you.”

  “One more surprise?” I could feel the panic start to set in already. “Like what kind of surprise?”

  * * *

  We walked into the tiny restaurant illuminated by fairy lights in the Piazza del Popolo… and a table full of familiar faces suddenly shouted in unison, “Spaghetti Night!”

  “I thought it might be nice to bring the whole family along,” Cal whispered into my ear, following it with a kiss on my earlobe. “They’re our world now.”

  “Yes, they are,” I nodded, my heart so full I could have cried. “Yes, they are.”

  Sitting around the table, feasting on breads and pasta and cheeses and wine, were Mrs. Mulroney and Mr. Dellucci, Mr. Banks and Tilly, Angus and Paulina. Even Sergio was there enjoying himself.

  I took Cal’s face in my hands and kissed him so passionately, even the Roman waiters applauded.

  “Sweet Jesus in a one-dollar kissing booth,” shouted Mrs. Mulroney as she hand-fed Mr. Dellucci a slice of bruschetta. “You two need to get a room or you need to sit your arses down and try this delicious pasta!”

  At the same time, Tilly jumped up out of her seat and excitedly informed me— “Matt, did you know that Italy has over four-hundred and fifty official varieties of cheese! You should taste this Belmonte from Lombardi. It’s magnifique!”

  “Little girl, in Italia it’s pronounced magnifico,” said Sergio.

  Tilly’s eyes lit up. “Will you teach me Italian?”

  Sergio’s eyes lit up at the challenge. “Si! It would be my honor!”

  Mr. Banks laughed with joy at all the happiness he saw around the table. “I say, this is splendid. It reminds of the time I—”

  Quick as a flash, Angus leaned across the table and popped a fork twirled with spaghetti into Mr. Banks’ mouth and said, “Don’t let it remind you of anything. Live in the moment and enjoy it!”