At six o'clock that evening, Connor called.

He didn't say hello.

“Preston just called me,” he said. His voice was strange. High and fast. “He says you're the founder of BrightPath. The BrightPath. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Grace. He says you own half of it. He says it's worth three hundred million dollars.” “Something like that.”

There was a long silence.

Then Connor laughed. A big, delighted laugh.

“Babe! Why didn't you tell me? This is amazing! This changes everything! We should go to dinner. Somewhere really nice. Just us. Or—no, with the guys. Preston's freaking out, but they'll get over it. Trip's going to lose his mind.”

I sat on my sofa in my small apartment and listened to him.

I'd waited five months to hear Connor sound this excited about me.

It had taken three hundred million dollars.

“Connor,” I said. “On Saturday night, I was a teacher. You laughed at me. You told me I was stiff. You told me it wasn't exactly… something.”

“I didn't mean—”

“And now I'm the same person,” I said. “Exactly the same. Same cardigan. Same Honda Civic. Same job I'll be doing tomorrow at eight-fifteen.”

I took a breath.

“The only thing that's changed,” I said, “is what you think I'm worth.”