He Called Me a Gold Digger

I didn’t come from money, so Julian’s friends decided I was a gold digger.

His best friend, Sloane, was the worst. She liked to say she used to be a gold digger herself, so she knew my type.

To prove her wrong, I spent three years with Julian without accepting a single expensive gift.

Sloane had an answer for that, too: “She says she doesn’t want anything, but she’s really waiting for him to offer something bigger. It’s called playing hard to get.”

For Julian’s birthday, I spent six months saving up to buy him a watch.

But as I reached the door of the private lounge, I heard Sloane laughing.

“I told you she’d buy something expensive. Textbook gold digger. Spend a little, get a lot.”

Julian sat right beside her. He didn’t defend me.

Then he looked up and asked, “Have you been acting this whole time? Were you just waiting to cash out?”

I stood in the doorway, and the watch suddenly weighed a ton.

I didn’t answer. I just turned around and walked away.

That was the last time he would doubt my feelings.

 I was taking my heart back.

————

I didn’t come from money. That was all it took for Julian Whitmore’s friends to decide I was a gold digger.

Sloane was the worst.

She was Julian’s best friend, one of the guys. She liked to say she used to be a gold digger herself, so she knew my type.

To prove I wasn’t, I spent three years with Julian without accepting a single expensive gift.

Sloane had an explanation for that, too.

“She says she doesn’t want anything,” she’d say, “but she’s waiting for the man to offer something better. It’s called playing hard to get.”

Then came Julian’s birthday. I had spent six months saving up, and I bought him a watch.

I was almost at the door of the club’s private lounge when I heard Sloane laughing.

“I told you she’d buy something expensive.”

“That’s exactly what a gold digger does. Pretend she doesn’t care about money, then spend a little to get a lot.”

Julian sat beside her. He didn’t say a word.

Someone else egged her on. “Julian, your girlfriend really knows how to invest.”

Then someone spotted me and made a shushing gesture. “Shh. She’s here.”

Sloane snorted. “Some people should just be honest, like me. Men like that better. Right, guys?”

Julian was quiet for a long time. Then he looked up and asked me, “Have you been acting this whole time? Were you really just waiting to cash out?”

I stood in the doorway. The watch suddenly felt so heavy I could hardly breathe.

I didn’t answer. I turned and walked away.

He had doubted my heart for the last time. From now on, I was keeping it to myself.

...

I left the lounge and went straight back to the boutique where I’d bought the watch.

The sales associate recognized me. Barely an hour earlier, she had handed me the gift box while I smiled like an idiot. Now, with the ribbon still untouched, I was asking her to take it back.

“Ma’am, the back is engraved. We can only buy it back at the resale price.”

“How much?”

“Six thousand.”

I had paid eight thousand six hundred for it. Six months of savings. I’d lose twenty-six hundred dollars the moment I let it go.

I nodded. “Do it.”

The associate had just taken the box when I heard Sloane laugh behind me.

“See? I told you she’d return it.”

Julian and the others from the lounge had followed me. They stood just outside the boutique like they’d come to watch a show.

Someone took out a phone and snapped a photo of the buyback slip.

“Eight grand on a watch. Next she’ll want a sports car.”

“Wall Street should hire her. That’s some return on investment.”

“She crawled out of some small town and landed a guy like Julian. You’ve got to admit she’s talented.”

The words dug into me until my fingers went numb.

Sloane walked up beside me and glanced at the slip.

“You’re all so naive,” she said. “A cheap gold digger asks for cash. She’s the sophisticated kind. Spend a little first, then find a reason to feel wronged, then return the gift. The man feels guilty, and next thing he knows, she’s got a car and an apartment.”

The others laughed harder.

“So that’s what they mean by playing the long game.”

“No wonder she didn’t take anything for three years. She was holding out to become Mrs. Whitmore.”

I took my card back and turned to leave.

Julian caught my wrist.

“Are you done?” He pulled a black card from his wallet and pressed it into my hand. “Fine, I went too far. Go buy yourself something nice. Stop sulking.”

I stared at the card. My chest tightened.

Three years together, and I had never spent a cent of his money. And he still thought every hurt could be fixed with a credit card.

I set it down on the counter.

“Julian, we’re done.”

His expression changed.

Sloane clapped once. “What did I tell you? Returning the gift was just the appetizer. Breaking up is the main course.”

She turned to Julian, completely sure of herself. “Your engagement party is next month, and you still haven’t actually proposed. She’s waited three years. She’s this close to marrying into the Whitmore family. You think she’d really walk away now? She’s forcing you to get down on one knee in front of everyone.”

The others jumped in.

“Better get on one knee, Julian.”

“If you don’t, next time she won’t just return a watch. She’ll threaten to slit her wrists.”

Julian’s frown slowly eased. He looked down at me as if he had finally figured me out.

“If you want to get married, just say so. Don’t use a breakup to scare me. It’s beneath you.”

I pulled my hand free. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m done with you.”

He stared at me for a few seconds. The last of his patience drained from his eyes.

“Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep this up.”

I didn’t answer. I walked out of the mall alone.

I had just gotten into a cab when my phone rang. It was Diane Foster, my director at Ardent Engineering.

“The Doha project is short-staffed,” she said. “It’s a three-year posting, and you’d have to fly out the day after tomorrow. The conditions are rough. Are you up for it?”

I had turned down two overseas postings before, both for Julian.

This time, I didn’t hesitate.

“I’ll go.”

I booked a flight for nine a.m. the day after tomorrow. I had forty-eight hours left before I left New York, and Julian, behind.