"Why what?"
"Why my mom?" She looked up, her eyes searching mine. "You could have anyone. Someone your age. Someone from this world of billions and penthouses. Why a high school teacher from Lincoln Heights?"
The real answers flashed through my mind: Because she was my teacher. Because I saw the loneliness in her that mirrored my own. Because I had the power to heal her afetr I fell in love with her, and in doing so, I healed a part of myself. Because I've wanted her since I was a boy in her classroom.
Instead, I gave her the purest, simplest truth I could. "Because she's real," I said, my voice thick with an emotion I didn't try to hide. "Because she doesn't care about the money. Because when I'm with her, I'm not the billionaire teenager. I'm just... me."
Maya's expression softened, the defensiveness melting away into something like wonder. "That's..." she breathed. "That's actually really sweet for a rich guy."
