Page 54 of A Million Times, Yes

A scowl crossed her face and stayed. Her mouth was stiff, her eyes squinting as though she was really taking me in. “Why did you lie to me?”

I didn’t like her accusation. Her tone. And I certainly didn’t like the way she was looking at me.

“Lie to you about what?”

“For starters, who you are ... Jordan Worthington.”

My heart was suddenly pounding, and it wasn’t from the run.

Fuck me.

“I—”

“You’re not only one of the heirs to the Worthington empire, but you’re a retired NHL player with a net worth of over a billion dollars. But you said none of that during any of the times we spent together. You danced around questions and told me your job was boring. ‘A corporate position’ is the title you gave me. How about—”

“It is a corporate position. That isn’t a lie.” I shoved my hands into my pockets.

The most sinister laugh came out of her, a sound I’d never heard from her before. “‘Corporate,’ my ass. You’re an executive to a company that owns almost every sports team in Boston, and according to this morning’s news, you just bought the Clovers—for billions. You spent years and years in the NHL. You made it seem like you work in an office and push papers and played a lot of hockey. The reality of those statements is far larger than you ever made them seem.”

There was a way to fix this. There were words I could say that would make the truth sting a little less.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ha!” Her eyes widened. “That’s all you’re going to say for yourself? That you’re sorry?”

“I wanted to tell you.”

“And?” Her arms dropped to her sides. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because of the comments you made about rich people.”

She let out a long, loud breath. “So you thought hiding it from me would make it better? That, what, you’d suddenly lose your billions and come down to my level and things would work out between us? That somehow, someway, I wouldn’t find out the truth? Guess what, your little dream bubble got popped last night when I watched you walk across the ice and hand out one-point-five million dollars.” She paused. “Yes, that’s right. The Bears game was my girls’ night out, Jordan. And ... I saw you.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

This was a mess.

What could I say to make this better? How could I prove to her that my wealth and past had nothing to do with us, that they didn’t need to affect us? That what we had was real—more real than anything I’d ever had?

“I like you, Maya. Those are the heaviest words I’ve ever said to a woman, because I’ve never liked a woman this way or this deeply before. And the more we hung out, the harder it was to tell you.” I pulled my hands from my pockets and clenched my fingers. “I was afraid once you learned the truth, it would wreck us.”

“It would.” Her eyes closed and her chest deflated. “And it did.”

“No!”

Her eyes opened.

“You can’t be serious—”

“Let me ask you this,” she said, cutting me off. “Does your apartment really have roaches, or were you afraid for me to come over and see the kind of place you live in?”

I filled my lungs, holding in the air, waiting several seconds before I replied. “It doesn’t have roaches.”

Her head dropped. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maya—”

“And you’re a liar.”