Page 75 of Tied Up in Riches
“Yes.” I chuckle.
“Okay, thank god. I’m excited. Thank you for being here.” We stop behind our makeshift kitchen. “Oh, shoot. I forgot to ask if you have any meetings today. I guess I should have considered that before forcing you to be stuck with me without an escape.”
“No work. I left my phone in the room.”
“On accident? Did I distract you? I’m sorry. Do you need to go back and get it?”
“I’m out of the office.” It wasn’t an accident. It was intentional. Until I figure out how to talk to her about the amount of money I make, I have to do everything I can to prove that it doesn’t consume my life negatively. Her being part of my life has quickly become a priority. I know it’s a risk that my lawyer and PI can’t get a hold of me for a few hours. But if I have my phone, I’ll check it every five minutes, and that’s not going to serve anyone. I figure that as long as I’m present with Brooke, I can prevent the snake from slipping in unnoticed while I pray my money is enough that the men I hired can handle it on their own.
“Have you ever been ‘out of the office?’” She chews on her lip with her eyes locked on mine.
My gaze is stuck on the strands of hair she’s pulled in front of her bandana headband, and I fight the urge to touch her face. It’s like I’m pulled to make up for lost time with her, weeks of wishing she was mine. “No,” I answer her honestly. Even when I’m camping, I rarely disconnect unless nature’s control over service towers forces me.
She opens her mouth to speak when a young Asian girl pops up in front of us. She’s wearing a pink flowered sundress. Her hair is pulled into pigtails, but there are chunks missing, giving her a bald spot in the front, like she recently started chemo. Brooke immediately bends to her level. “Hi. Do we get to hang out with you all day?”
The little girl nods.
Brooke reaches for the straps of her dress, lightly running her fingers over the bow holding it together. “I love your dress. It’s so beautiful.”
“Thank you.” The girl tucks her chin to her shoulder shyly. “I like your headband,” she whispers. “I wish I had one to cover up my hair.”
Even from standing, I can see Brooke’s heart breaking in a tear sitting on her lashes. She reaches to her head, loosening the knot at her neck and undoing the bandana. “You can have it if you’d like.”
The girl’s eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yup.” Brooke reaches to tie the white paisley fabric around her head, fastening it with a small bow directly over her bald spot. The girl touches her head and smiles. “What’s your name?”
“Amara.”
“That’s a pretty name. Did you know in Thailand it means ‘immortal,’ like an angel?”
She nods. “My yai told me that. She lives in Thailand, but I can’t go there. Mae says I’m too sick to go right now.”
I squat to their level, my forearms resting on my knees. “You know, Brooke used to live in Thailand.”
“You did?” Her voice whispers amazement.
Brooke nods, and the girl's gaze comes back to me when I ask her, “Do you want to make food from there today?”
“We can do that?”
“We can make whatever you want,” I tell her. Once I started investing, I signed up for weekly cooking classes so I could learn how to make authentic dishes for anyone I’d get into business with. It sealed the deal on more than one occasion.
“I wish we could make Pad Thai, but I’m allergic to peanuts, so I’m not allowed.”
“What if we make it without them?”
Amara glances at Brooke. “Can he really do that?”
Brooke smiles, standing and reaching for her hand. “I think we should trust him. What do you think?”
She nods, placing her little hand in Brooke’s and reaching up for mine. “Okay, let’s go to the pantry!” she exclaims, tugging us both forward.
Chapter twenty-nine
Marcus
Sitting across a picnic table from Amara, Brooke’s chin is in her palms watching her eat her plate of Pad Thai–made with cashews instead of peanuts. The girl hardly takes the time to breathe as she shovels it into her mouth, her little fist wrapped around the fork handle. We double checked her allergies with her mom before starting our dish, and even though all the kids are supposed to share and try each other’s food, Amara doesn’t want anything else. She’s so excited about her Pad Thai, you’d think it was her favorite food. Maybe it is now.