The Heir Who Quit Luxury novel · Chapter 16 of 32

Chapter 16: Wrong Door

"You made a choice," I said. "In a hospital hallway. Out loud."

"I made it in a hurry."

"You made it in freshman year."

I opened the truck door around her.

She stepped aside, because Blair never let anybody see her get pushed.

"Theo. Please."

I drove away and left her standing in the auction lot in her white coat.

She came to Eight Mile at eleven the next morning.

A white Range Rover pulled in and parked across two spaces.

It was a Saturday, and the lot was full.

A young couple was test-driving a Civic.

A grandfather was reading the grease pencil on an Impala out loud to his grandson.

Pop was in his lawn chair with a blanket over his knees and a thermos.

Frankie was in the bay with her arm inside an engine up to the shoulder.

Blair walked across the lot in heels.

Every customer watched her come.

"Can we talk inside?" she said.

"We can talk here."

She glanced at the couple with the Civic.

Then she decided she didn't care.

"I'm not in love with Carter," she said. "I never was. You know that."

"I know you're wearing his ring."

"Rings come off." She stepped closer. "He's spending money like water. The board is nervous. Grandfather can barely speak. It's all going to fall apart in his hands, and when it does, it's yours. It's yours anyway, Theo, whenever you want it."

"I don't want it."

"You say that." She laid her hand flat on my chest, on the Eight Mile logo. "But you're building all of this to prove something to him. I know you. When you've proved it, you'll take the name. And when you do, I'll leave Carter."

"When the money's ours."

"When it's ours," she said. "Yes."

She said it was romantic.

Behind me, I heard a wrench hit the concrete.

Frankie came out of the bay wiping her hands on a rag.

She had grease to both elbows and a smear across her cheek.

She didn't hurry.

She walked right up to Blair and looked at the hand on my chest until Blair took it away.

"You're on my lot," Frankie said.

"I'm talking to Theo."

"You're talking on my lot. That's Pop's chair. That's my sign. Those are my customers." Frankie pointed at the couple by the Civic. "They came here to buy a car from somebody honest. You're making it smell."

The grandfather by the Impala laughed out loud.

Blair's face went perfectly smooth.

"This is between me and Theo."

"No, it isn't," I said.

I stepped over beside Frankie.

Not in front of her.

Beside her.

Blair looked at the two of us standing there.

Something went across her face that I'd never seen on it.

"You're choosing a mechanic," she said. "Over a billion dollars."

"I'm choosing my partner," I said. "Over you."

Pop banged his thermos on the arm of his chair.

"Get off the lot, princess!" he said, slow and thick and loud.

The young couple by the Civic burst out laughing.

Blair walked back to her Range Rover.

She didn't run.

She didn't look back.

She just got in and drove away, and the grandfather by the Impala started clapping.

The young couple bought the Civic.

Frankie didn't speak to me for the rest of the afternoon.

She was in the bays until close, banging on things.

At seven I locked the gate and went upstairs.

She was standing in the middle of the apartment in her coveralls, with the space heater ticking and snow on the window.

"Beside me," she said.

"What?"

"You stood beside me. Not in front of me."

"You didn't need me in front of you."

She crossed the room in three steps and grabbed my shirt with both hands.

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