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“I don’t know why, but I assumed he was old.”
“He isn’t?” There’s a bit of silence, and then she adds with a chuckle, “I guess I thought that, too. You kept describing him as a shut-in.”
“Exactly. Who our age lives in total isolation? In a house like this?”
“A house like what?”
I can hear the curiosity in her voice, but I’m already shaking my head, even though she can’t see me. “You know I can’t give you details. But he can afford a personal chef. And I’ve sent you pictures of the cottage, so you can let your imagination fill in what the main house looks like. And whatever you’re picturing, it’s that and more.”
“And he’s our age?”
“Approximately. I don’t know for sure.”
“So …” She lets her voice trail off.
“So, what?”
“What’s he look like? Is he hot?”
Gah. How am I supposed to answer that? What can I say here?
If I say he’s average, she’ll know I’m lying, because Trinity has younger-sister-Spidey-sense. If I say he’s hot, I’ll never hear the end of it.
And is he actually hot? I don’t know. He’s tall and fit. And he smelled amazing. Since I have to say something, I say, “I don’t know. ‘Hot’ is such a weirdly subjective word.”
“So, in other words, yes, he’s hot. Where does his money come from? Is it like inherited old money? Is he European royalty? Is he in the mafia? A hired killer?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. And you know I can’t Google him to learn more about him.”
“Yes. I know. That was the thing I think is so weird about your contract. You should be able to Google anyone you want. Even your boss.”
“Well, when I thought my boss was a codgerly, old shut in, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t Google him. I assumed I wouldn’t find anything.”
“Obviously, you were going to find things. Otherwise, why would there be a clause that you couldn’t Google him?”
Huh. That was a good point. Damn Trinity and her logic.
“Anyway, my point is I can’t Google him. And I can’t tell you who he is.”
“Well, you’re not giving me a lot to work with here.” Her tone is exasperated.
“I know. I just… Never mind. I guess I just needed to say it out loud. How much I wish I could tell you who he is and have you Google him for me. Not because I need to know details, but just so that I know that there’s nothing that I would wish I had known later. If that makes sense.”
“Yes. It does.” There was a long moment of silence in which I can practically feel Trinity’s frustration pulsing through the line. Finally, she says, “I talked to Mom the other day.”
“How is she?” I ask even though I talk to mom regularly.
She always tells me she’s doing great. But I can hear the strain in her voice. I know how much it hurts her, this mess that Blake got us all into.
It’s ridiculous, but I think she blames herself somehow, for not realizing what an asshole he’d become, even though none of us saw it either. Even though she’s not his birth mother, she raised him from the time he was ten. She loved him like he was one of her own until dad died and Blake took over the restaurant and screwed us out of our part of dad’s inheritance.
It seems to hang between us every time I talk to her. The way Blake betrayed me. The way I asked for money from her and she gave it to me. It all just feels like this thing that is between us that neither of us can get past.
“She’s doing well,” Trinity says. “She told me you paid her back.”
I squeeze my eyes closed and try to keep my voice as neutral as possible when I say, “I guess I should’ve told you she loaned me money.”
“No. You didn’t want me to know. It’s fine. I can’t say that I blame you. I think if things were reversed, I wouldn’t want to admit it either.”
