Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(63)

I had been so deprived of all blood ties for so long that it was a revelation to me that this tie could actually mean something. Sven and I had certain things in common that no one else did, and that no one else could. There was something here worth cultivating. I hadn’t seen that coming.

“So what do you do here in New York?” I asked him. We had been working backwards towards small talk, starting with the really heavy stuff.

He smiled a self-deprecating smile. “Stockbroker. I do okay at it, though I acknowledge that my occupation means I got at least some of the family gambling gene. In my defense, though, New York gambling is a lot less destructive than Vegas gambling. I guess we all say that until we lose big. And you’re a flight attendant. I confess, I’ve read everything about you that I could get my hands on. I’m curious by nature.”

That made me visibly flinch.

He held up his hands in a sign of peace. “I know most of it’s garbage, but the long lost sibling thing always got to me. I have so little family that it’s always felt like something was missing. I just wanted to see you—to see pictures of you, and get an idea how you were doing. Though I have to admit, some of those pictures made me blush.”

I blushed just thinking of it. The first picture that popped into my mind was me in that see-through slip on the cover of a magazine. I had little hope that he hadn’t seen that one.

“How did you get my number?” I asked.

“My mother sent it to me. She said that she happened to run into one of your co-workers and talked them into giving it to her. I have no idea who or how.”

“I might need to get a new number soon. A few media sources have gotten ahold of it. I’ll let you know when it changes.”

He inclined his head. “I appreciate it.”

“And I won’t be a flight attendant for much longer. My company filed for bankruptcy.”

“I heard about that. Sorry to hear it.”

I shrugged. “I’m taking a voluntary furlough. I’m going to try to turn painting into a career.”

“Wow! That’s amazing! I’d love to see your work.”

I flushed. “I’m having a gallery showing in L.A. soon. I’ll make sure you get an invitation, though of course, I’ll understand if you can’t make it. It is across the country.”

He waved that off. “I’ll be there. Just tell me when. That is such an accomplishment. I hear it’s near to impossible to get a showing.”

I flushed harder. “To be honest, my boyfriend played a big part there, but I’m still going to give it a shot.”

“James Cavendish,” he said.

I nodded.

“Well, let me know. I’m looking forward to seeing your work.” He sounded sincere.

“I will. It’s still being planned, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“I have a girlfriend,” he volunteered. “She’s very nice. It’s serious. Hopefully you can meet her sometime.”

I nodded. “That sounds nice. Maybe we can all have dinner sometime.”

He nodded. “I’d like that. She works odd hours—a lot of them, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

“What does she do?” I asked.

“She’s a model. I went to one of her shoots. It’s a strange sort of job, but she loves it.”

I smiled, reminded of my recent and similar experience. “I was just at a photo shoot for James. They are bizarre. I swear they had a team just for rubbing him down with oil.”

He laughed. “Yeah, it is a strange business.”

He looked at his phone suddenly, the first time he’d done so since we’d gotten there.

“That’s weird,” he muttered.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s from a co-worker of mine, asking where I am. Says my boss is looking for me, but I’m on my own time, so that’s out of line.” He began texting back.

“Did you tell him?” I asked, getting a sick feeling in my gut.

He nodded. “It’s not his business, but I still don’t want to get on his bad side. It’s just bizarre for him to be looking for me on my own time. This isn’t like him at all.”

I’d left my phone at home, but no one should have even known I was gone. So why was I suddenly tense and worried?

I glanced around nervously. “I could be way off, but that might have something to do with my boyfriend. He’s extremely overprotective of me, since the attack.” I knew I was kidding myself with that statement. He’d likely be that way no matter what, with or without the attack as an excuse. It was his nature.

“What attack?” Sven asked, and I remembered that he didn’t know. The attack must not have made the headlines as what it actually was. They’d probably turned my being shipped off in an ambulance and hospitalized for a week into an overdose story, or God only knew what. I hadn’t wanted to check.

“It was our dad, over a month ago. He came to my house and attacked me. That was when I went to the police about what he’d done to my mother. The police and a team of private investigators have been looking for him ever since.”

“Even after all this time, he was still coming after you?”

I explained some of the events leading up to the attack, as far as I understood it, anyway.