Part-Time Lover (Part-Time Lover #1)(18)

“I’ll just go cry by the river and drown my tears.”

She squeezes my hand. “You do that. The river is a fine companion for sorrow.”

I sigh, then square my shoulders as if shrugging it off. “On second thought, I’ll grab a bite with my brother.”

“You have a brother in town?” Her voice is tinged with curiosity.

“Yes, he moved here a year ago. Around the same time I started spending most of my time here.”

“I trust that means you’re close with him?”

“Very much so. He’s my rock, my best friend, the person I trust the most, and all that. I help him with his business, and he’s basically responsible for who I am today.”

“Why do you say that?” Even though we’re walking, she keeps glancing at me, making eye contact, staying engaged. She’s more interested than I’d have expected, given the walls she erects, and I like that she wants to know these sorts of details about me.

“He set me on the straight-and-narrow. I was a right fuck-up in school, pissing away my days with parties and skiing, with late nights and later mornings, until Erik kicked my arse and made me focus.”

“That’s great that he helped you when you needed him. What did he say?”

“He said, ‘You’re not going to win a spot on the Danish National Team for the Olympics. Or the United Kingdom one either. Time to get your shit together and focus on school.’ Only he said it a little better, and more frequently, and with enough tough love that I finally listened. Besides, he was right. My marks were crap, my attitude was worse, and my future was headed down the toilet. I needed focus, and he gave that to me. I wasn’t going to be a skiing superstar. I was only dicking around on the slopes.”

“You like to ski?”

“Love it. But it wasn’t going to pay the bills. He knew that, but he also knew there was a better path for me in finance and investing. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably have majored in poetry or geology or whatnot. I had no clue, and he was the one who helped me figure it out. Some days I wonder if I really ever will be able to pay him back for all he’s done. But then, he’s never asked for anything in return.”

“But that’s how it goes with people you love, right? It shouldn’t be about what you get. It’s what you give. We don’t always give enough. But that’s what we should want to do with family, with friends, with the people who matter.”

The way she says the last part—people who matter—makes me wonder if she might have given all to someone who didn’t give back in the same way. If that’s why she seems so adamant in her view now.

“I suppose that’s true.”

“He helped you because he loves you, not because he expected something. And I imagine seeing you succeed is probably his reward.” She smiles warmly at me, and I want to kiss her smile, run my finger along her lips.

I smile too. “Maybe.”

“Also, can I say that I can’t picture you like that, as a fuck-up.”

That makes me happy, that she can’t see me that way. “Is that so?”

“You do seem to enjoy fun, but I get the impression you’re incredibly driven too. I can’t imagine you’re focused only when it comes to getting me into bed.”

“Don’t ever underestimate my determination when it comes to getting you in bed. But, you’re right. I worked in finance for most of my twenties. I was, admittedly, quite driven and quite successful,” I say, a little sheepishly because I don’t want to come across as bragging.

She arches a brow. “Quite?”

I place a finger on my lips. “I retired at age twenty-eight.”

“So young. That’s amazing. What are you now, twenty-nine?”

“Ha. I’m the ripe old age of thirty. I had a good run.” I give a little shrug, though I’m glad she seems impressed. I shift back to her. “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

“One brother. He’s six years older than I am. Forty. He lives in New York City with his family, his wife and two children.”

“Do you see them often?”

“I try to go back to the States a couple times a year to see him, and my parents too. And my brother usually comes here in late summer.”

“Are you close with him?”

“In some ways. He’s always sort of looked out for me in a ‘big brother’ way, even though we don’t live in the same country.” Absently, she fingers a charm necklace with an Empire State Building on it.

I tip my forehead to the necklace. “Did he give that to you?”

She laughs and looks down at the silver building. “He did. He actually bought this last time he was here.”

“He bought you a New York icon in Paris?”

She smiles. “He’s been doing it since we were kids. He finds it amusing to come here and track down trinkets that represent where I grew up.”

“That’s sweet. A nice way for you two to connect.”

“I think so too. I have quite a collection of New York charm necklaces he’s tracked down in France. Though I’m missing the first one he ever gave me: a taxicab.”

“Maybe someday fate will send it back to your doorstep.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Fate doesn’t care about my taxicab necklace.”