By the time Livvie had reached her room she was fuming. Why was it that men always had to have the last word? Plopping herself onto her bed, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. What the fuck had just happened? One minute she had been feeling sorry for herself, and the next, Andrew had tried to make a move on her. But would she have let him? If Drake hadn’t busted them, would she have kissed Andrew? Livvie sighed. No, she wouldn’t have. Andrew was adorable, but he didn’t excite her. Drake, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. When Drake kissed her, she felt as if she was in the middle of an earthquake, tornado, and tsunami, all at the same time. That kiss… Livvie inhaled. She had never felt the earth shattering when she had kissed a guy before. In fact, she had never enjoyed kissing, period. Either guys didn’t know what to do with their tongues, or their lips were too gentle. Something always turned her off. But Drake’s kiss was the opposite.

Livvie drifted to sleep until she heard a knock at her door. She bolted out of bed, secretly hoping it was Drake wanting to kiss her again. And that maybe he had been as affected by the kiss as she had been. But as she moved closer to the door, she thought he probably hadn’t been affected by it at all. After all, he was used to making out with famous women who kissed for a living in movies.

“Who is it?” Livvie yelled when she reached her door.

“It’s Mr. Birkshire, Ms. Collins.”

Why was everyone so formal around here? And what was his first name? She’d have to remember to ask Drake. She opened the door to find Mr. Birkshire standing in the corridor with his arms clasped behind his back.

“Hey, Mr. Birkshire. Is everything okay?” She had no idea why she had asked him that except that for a split second she thought maybe Drake was throwing her out of his house. Maybe he had bought her a plane ticket to Hawaii as he had mentioned.

“Of course, I was just checking to see how you’re enjoying your stay so far?”

“Um, it’s been interesting.” Livvie smiled.

“Interesting is good in life sometimes and very much needed.”

Mr. Birkshire paused, and Livvie shifted her feet a little.

“Do you want to come in?” Livvie asked.

Mr. Birkshire unclasped his hands and presented her with a wrapped package.

“No, thank you. I also came here to give you this.”

Livvie looked at the present and then back at him. “What is it?” She didn’t think her winning raffle ticket included a gift.

“It’s from Mr. Morganthal. He wanted me to give this to you immediately.”

With trembling hands, Livvie took the gift. It felt way too heavy to be a plane ticket. Livvie felt relieved and confused at the same time.

“Why?”

“Open it and find out.”

She held the gift in her hands as if it was a treasure. It was wrapped in purple wrapping paper with a big lavender bow. How did he know her favorite color was purple? Hands shaking, Livvie opened the package. She could have thanked Mr. Birkshire and sent him on his way, but she needed him here. The package was taped pretty well, but she didn’t want to rip the paper. Even though it was silly, she wanted to save it forever.

When she finally had the package unwrapped, Livvie stared at a brown leather-bound journal with her name on the bottom in gold. She opened the journal, and on the first page, Drake had written her a note in black ink.

May this journal be filled with your beautiful words. Write until your heart’s content. ~ Drake

Tears welled up in Livvie’s eyes, but she held them back. “He gave me a journal,” she said softly.

Mr. Birkshire nodded. “Yes, he’s one of the most thoughtful human beings I know.”

“He is?” Livvie asked. Drake and Mr. Birkshire had been friends for a long time. Livvie wanted him to tell her everything he knew about Drake.

“The journal obviously didn’t break his bank account, but he knew you needed it as your survival tool.”

“Did he tell you why?” Livvie asked.

“He doesn’t need to. If he believes someone needs something, he’ll do everything in his power to give it to that person.”

“I just saw him maybe an hour ago.”

“He must have known how badly you needed this.”

Livvie swallowed and hugged the journal to her chest. “Drake had told me that you sold him this land.”

“I did, and I’d do it again,” he said.

“You believe in him,” Livvie stated.

Mr. Birkshire nodded. “He has proved himself many times.”

Livvie was dying to ask him how, and her eagerness for answers must have shown on her face.

“Do you know the charity you attended where you won the raffle?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s for an autistic school.” Carly had worked there for years.

“Mr. Morganthal was jogging through town about nine months ago and ran into an autistic boy and his father. The father was trying to get his son to do some form of physical activity. The boy took to Mr. Morganthal, and the father was more than pleased. Mr. Morganthal said he would jog with them if it’d help. So they met every day for a few weeks. But the boy needed serious help, and his dad couldn’t afford to send him to a decent school. Mr. Morganthal started doing research and found the school where you bought the ticket. But they were filled to capacity. And it didn’t matter that he would have paid them in cash for the remainder of the boy’s schooling. Then he found out they were hosting a charity. The one you attended. He offered them his best wines, but they didn’t want to promote drinking. So they came up with the idea for the winner to stay at his vineyard for a week. And if Mr. Morganthal agreed, then they would allow the boy to attend the school.”

“And I won,” Livvie whispered.

“I’m assuming you’ve gotten to know Mr. Morganthal a bit over the last twenty-four hours. Do you think he’s the type of man who’d readily open his home to a stranger?”

“No,” Livvie said.

“Exactly, but as that was the only way to get the boy into that school, he agreed.”

Livvie swallowed back her tears.

“And then, Ms. Collins, he took it a step further. Knowing that the family wasn’t wealthy, he paid for their move to Los Angeles and bought them a house right near the school.” Mr. Birkshire paused. “You look surprised.”

Livvie nodded.

“And that’s just one of many stories about his generosity and thoughtfulness.”

“Then why won’t he consider entering into a committed relationship? Why is he so afraid?” Livvie blurted out and then bit her lip.

Mr. Birkshire opened his mouth and then shut it. She was worried he wouldn’t tell her why, and she really needed to hear it from the one person who seemed to know him.

“I won’t tell you all the details of his life. Only he can tell you. But I feel you should know that his parents got divorced when he was ten years old.”

“And that scarred him?” Livvie knew of many people who had grown up in divorced homes, and they weren’t all messed up in relationships. It seemed as if Drake had been more affected than most. But who was she to judge?

“It did,” Mr. Birkshire responded. “But it was more than that. Mr. Morganthal watched his mom suffer from a broken heart. The actual divorce didn’t damage him as much as watching his mom become sadder and sadder throughout her marriage. She didn’t physically die, but in a way, what happened to her was just as bad.”

“And he fears that.” Livvie didn’t need to ask that as a question. She knew it was the truth.

Mr. Birkshire nodded, confirming what she thought.

“And he doesn’t want to put anyone through that.”

That makes sense, thought Livvie. Mr. Birkshire turned as if he was going to leave but then pivoted back around.

“I almost forgot to tell you; Mr. Morganthal has a business dinner in town, and he won’t be home. Would you like me to send your dinner to your room?”

Livvie’s heart delved into her stomach. “Yes, please,” she said softly.

Mr. Birkshire turned again, but Livvie had one more question for him.

“Mr. Birkshire?”

He turned. “Yes, Ms. Collins.”

“Will you please call me Livvie?”

Mr. Birkshire paused. “Only when you’ve earned it.”

Livvie wasn’t sure what he meant, but she knew he wouldn’t explain. “Then thank you for bringing the journal to me.” She forced a smile.

Mr. Birkshire turned and left her room. Livvie closed the door. Still holding on to the journal for dear life, she leaned against the door and slid to the floor.

“Who are you, Drake Morganthal?”