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Sharp inhale from him. “You were almost gone. One more hour, one more day … if you had slept with someone else …”

“Or if you did,” I mumbled.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron wanted to know.

“I was hurt.”

He wasn’t buying it, as evidenced by the squint I was getting.

“Fine, I’m a romantic sap.” I shrugged. “I only wanted you.”

I didn’t expect him to lean down and kiss my forehead.

“Get off me,” I complained.

His laughter was warm.

“So now you have a board that wants to see you with only one person.”

“Yes,” he said, sliding down beside me. “And so they’re going to see a lot of you.”

“Are they?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Your father will have a seizure.”

“I don’t care.”

“Tell me about your mother.”

“She lives in Paris.”

“That’s cool.”

“She’s been there since I was six. She went back to live with her family after my parents got divorced.”

“You’ve never visited her or anything?”

“I have, but it’s not as you’re imagining. You’re going from nanny to nanny, not from parent to parent.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“So”—I broached the subject—“you were worried what your mom would think if she found out you were gay?”

“I was. She’s very conservative; I knew what she would think.”

“But it won’t bother you anymore?”

“No. Honestly, we’ve never been close. We do the Christmas gift exchange, and that’s the extent of our interaction. She plants a tree somewhere for me, and I have my assistant send her something from Cartier or Prada.”

“You have an assistant?”

“I have ten.”

“Huh.”