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Grr. I wasn’t going to do this, but given that we’re on a date after having spent the night together, it’s best to put this out in the open.
“I’d rather it never be your turn,” I say. “But not because I’m trying to be one of those guys. It’s more because I want to take you to pricey places that have more than burgers on the menu—places that would be trivial for me to afford, but that might strain your wallet.”
She huffs. “How much do you make from that Airbnb?”
“It’s not just that,” I say. “Or the land I own. My grandpa also left me money—money that I invested in Octothorpe stock at a very opportune time.”
Forehead furrowing, she displays her slender wrist to me. “I have an Octothorpe Glorp.”
“Ah. Yeah. Octothorpe also makes lots of other technology,” I say. Then, in case she hasn’t heard, I add, “Their stock grew exponentially after the company went public. They are worth more than Apple, Google, Amazon, and Microsoft combined. And they gave early investors their cryptocurrency as a?—”
“You’re super rich?” she asks, eyes wide.
I shrug. “What’s considered super rich?”
Grudgingly, she picks up her cash. “A millionaire?”
“I’m not actually sure if I’m still a millionaire. Not after the recent market shift.” I take my phone out to check my portfolio. “Yep. Apparently, I’ve just crossed into billionaire territory.”
She drops the bills she picked up. “A billionaire?”
The cheese lady looks pointedly our way.
I shift in my seat uncomfortably. “Why not post it on social media while you’re at it?”
“Sorry,” Brooklyn says in a softer voice. “I’m just wrapping my brain around it. No offense, but you don’t seem like a billionaire at all.”
Right. She thought I was a plumber. Teasingly, I ask, “Do I have to buy the obligatory private jet for you to believe me?”
“Or a limo,” she says. “Or a mansion.”
I pick up her cash and hand it back to her. “I told you. I want a simple life. A farm by the ocean. That’s about it.”
“That’s crazy,” she says. “How can someone who’s got all this money not want to spend it?”
“I do spend it,” I say. “I donate to causes I believe in. Whenever my dad or I want something, I buy whatever it is without a second thought. I guess he and I just don’t really need much to be happy, but I believe that goes for everyone else too. A person just needs some basic minimum income to pay all their bills and do their hobbies and things like that, but after that, more money doesn’t do much.” I take a deep breath before admitting in a quieter voice, “No amount of money was able to save my mom.”
Shit. Why did I go there?
There’s pity in Brooklyn’s eyes, which wasn’t my intention. But then she covers my hand with hers, and that feels nice. It brings me out of the temporary funk I got into.
“So.” I clear my throat. “Will you finally let me pay for the dates I take you on?”
She nods. “But on one condition: you have to let me groom your pets as a thank-you.”
I wince. “Sure, but only Harry. Sally would slice your veins open if you tried.”
She sits up. “You let me worry about Sally.”
“Those”—I drop a wad of cash on the table—“are famous last words.”
“I’m curious about something,” Brooklyn says as we start driving. “But it’s not a polite question.”
I glance at her. “Is it polite to tease someone the way you’re doing right now?”
“Fine. You’re attractive.”
“Thanks,” I say with a grin.
