I let out a groan. “Scratch the Friday-night arrangement. We need a date tonight. Right now.”
“Do we?”
I answer by reaching for her hand and threading my fingers through hers. She meets my gaze, and her eyes seem to say yes as we resume our pace, passing a florist shop that teems with orange, yellow, and pink summer flowers. Her attention strays to the blooms, and she sweeps her gaze over the lot of them. She lifts her nose, inhaling them.
She likes flowers. A lot.
“Yes, we certainly do need a date night. Don’t you think?” I say, returning to the topic.
She glances at me, a sly smile on her face. “You may be onto something. But I can’t tonight. I have to work.”
“This late?”
“It’s only seven. Since I run my own business, I have to work many evenings.”
“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.”
“I love New York. My cousin Oliver is there. Moved there years ago but I try to see him somewhat often. He’s a lawyer, so he handles some of our business deals. Good bloke.”
“What’s he like?”
“Ridiculously handsome, insanely charming, incredibly brilliant.”
“So, the total opposite of you?” she asks.
“Yes. Absolutely. I’m such a bore.”
