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I liked my sister-in-law very much. I also loved her as much as I did my brothers and parents. She was family. It may have started out with her being scared of me, but now she called meon my bullshit like they all did. We were an equal-opportunity family when it came to giving it straight.
"Duncan, you have the blackest heart I've ever known and—"
"With brothers like you, who the fuck needs enemies." I raised my glass in a mock toast.
Dean clinked his glass with mine. "I don't know what happened with you, but something did, and you decided not to waste your time with relationships."
"I have my family," I protested.
"But you never dated, brother."
"I did." I didn’t talk about it much, but the truth was, I had dated—back in university, a long fucking time ago.
"That was not dating," Dean snorted.
"I fucked onlyonewoman, and I didn't pay her for it. I think it qualifies. "
I had not been in love with Scarlett Ford, and maybe that was why it wasn't upsetting when I found out she was hedging her bets between a guy on the football team and me. When he got drafted to the Miami Dolphins, she went with him. I can't say I was heartbroken, butit had made me wary of romantic relationships.
After the Scarlett mini debacle, I was at a meeting in New York, and an escort approached me at the hotel bar. It had been simply and exactly what I needed. Good energetic fucking and no drama. That encounter set me on a path where I started paying for sex. As an introvert, I wasn't seeking friends and relationships. I liked my own company.AndI worked with people all fucking day; the last thing I wanted was to spend time with more peopleafterwork. So, with the exception of family, I didn't interact with people in a social setting, which made me socially awkward, which I didn't mind at all. Resting Bitch Face was a beautiful thing when it kept people off your back.
"You were not in love with Scarlett," Dean pointed out.
"Of course, I wasn't. I'm entirely unsure as to what it means to be in love. I understand responsibility. I understand taking care of people. I understand loyalty. I don't understand thisromantic lovebullshit. I think Hallmark invented it so men have to buy fucking red roses for their women on Valentine's Day, which isn't even arealholiday."
"Now you're being argumentative for the sake of it." Dean waved to the waiter and pointed to his glass, asking for a refill. "Damian and Em love each other."
"Yes. And Mom and Dad have a great marriage and I know they love one another," I agreed.
"What don't you understand about love?"
"I don't think I'm wired to feel that way, Dean," I told him truthfully. "Something is wrong with my circuitry, even Mom thinks so."
"Mom is worse thanyouwhen it comes to being a ruthless asshole, and she has no filter. Love the woman, but she sometimes says shit that doesn't make sense. There's nothing wrongwith your circuitry. When Emilia was having her nervous breakdown, did you or did you not stay at her place for six hours a day, keeping her company, making sure she ate and drank while she painted?"
Damian had fucked up, and Emilia, an artist, did what she always did with her pain, which was to paint twenty-four-seven nonstop until she collapsed. To prevent that end result, Damian, Mom, Dad, and I had taken turns being with Emilia. It was also our way of making up to her for being jackasses who thought she was the wrong wife for Damian when all along he was the wrong fucking husband who had to earn her. We were all supremely grateful he did. Our family had strengthened because of Emilia, and I couldn't imagine us without her.
"I care about her. I love her. She's Damian's wife, she's family, so yeah, I'll always be there with and for her. And I'll do thesame for Elsa because she's my wife. I don't know what that has to do with what Byron meant when he saidshe walks in fucking beauty."
Dean chuckled. "Well, buddy, right now, you're nottaking care of your pregnant wife."
"Cannot disagree with that and, yeah, I have to do better. I will." I ran a hand over my face. "But I'm going to fuck up again. You know that." I was certain of it. No matter how careful I was, I knew I'd eventually lose her to my stupidity and lack of that weird emotion everyone panted after—empathy.
"Sure. You're human and flawed. I, on the other hand, am perfect, but I canempathizewith your problem," he mocked. "So, what? She'll mess up, too, because that's what people do. Relationships aren't about never making mistakes. It's about learning from them and growing."
"I don't know what it means to be a husband, Dean. What am I supposed to do?"
"Take care of her," he suggested. "And get comfortable with being uncomfortable. You need to showherthat you're committed to being there for her, no matter what."
I looked out at the bustling street.
Couples strolled hand in hand, children laughed as they chased each other, and a couple of artists paintingplein airwere capturing the scene with quick strokes of their brushes.
The sounds of accordion music floated from a nearby performer, adding to the quintessential Parisian atmosphere.
I loved Paris. It was my favorite city in the world, and there was nowhere else I wanted to live. Even though I was born and raised in San Francisco, Paris always felt more like home. And yet, I preferred staying in my suite at the Ritz over the apartment my mom had set up for me. She didn’t want her son living out of a suitcase. I tried to explain that the suite was mine, that I had a massive walk-in closet, not a suitcase—but she never listened.
I looked at my watch. Délices d'Elsa was open for another half hour. Ihadfinally read through the PI's report, cover to cover. And, yes,maybeI hadjerked off to my wife's beautiful face.
