Maid for Each Other(31)

“No, about my favorite part.”

“Well they should, and I’m dying to know.”

He furrowed his brow and looked into space for a moment before saying, “I like exploring the potential of an idea, I guess you could say. I like combing through data and drilling into possibilities for new directions. There is nothing quite like the buzz of coming up with a new strategy and seeing it come to fruition.”

“If it does, right?”

He smiled. “Right.”

“Did you always want to be a businessman?” I asked.

“Definitely,” he said. “My great-grandmother started the business, and I grew up watching my grandmother expand all of her work. She was always looking for new and better ways to grow CrashPad’s footprint and I guess I’m the same way with Hathaway.”

“I can’t imagine having a family business,” I said, but really thinking that I couldn’t imagine having a real family at all. It’d always just been me and my mother; that was it. “I bet you’re so proud of it.”

“I am,” he said. “I mean, technically it isn’t the family business anymore; it’s a Hathaway company. But it still feels like ours because we’ve stuck to the same core principles.”

It was confusing to my brain, listening to him talk about his job, because it seemed nice. I respected the way he seemed to be super committed to his family’s company and now the company they’d merged with; it felt loyal and it was obvious he worked his ass off. I mean, when he wasn’t schmoozing with other Hathaway people, he was constantly on his phone.

And the man wasn’t checking his Instagram or playing Candy Crush.

No, he was always engaging with his email.

But as impressive as it was that he was a hard worker, I still couldn’t write off the fact that he lived in a multimillion-dollar apartment and drove a luxury car that he’d had created specifically for him. His work ethic might be admirable, but he was still a man who was okay with spending millions of dollars on stuff.

And I needed to remember that.

“So did you grow up here?” he asked. “How many siblings? Give me your origin story, Mariano.”

I looked down at my food and tried to come up with a way to make it sound more interesting than it was.

Tried and failed. I said, “I did. I grew up in Omaha, am an only child, graduated from Millard South.”

“Do your parents still live here?”

I took a bite of potato, and after I swallowed, I said, “My mom does, but my dad died when I was in grade school. So my family pretty much just consists of my mother and me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, getting a crinkle between his perfect dark eyebrows. He looked genuinely sad for me, and I imagined that for someone like him, it was the most pathetic origin story he’d ever heard. “I mean, I know a lot of time has passed, but it still has to be hard.”

“It’s fine,” I said awkwardly, then took a gulp of wine.

Was it weird that I was a functioning adult who still didn’t know how to respond to someone when they expressed their condolences about my dad who died a very long time ago?

Yes.

“I know CrashPad started here,” I said to change the subject. “So I’m assuming you grew up in Omaha, too?”

“I did,” he said, nodding as he scooped up another bite of pasta. “Born and raised here, graduated from Creighton Prep, went to college on the East Coast but came back to settle down and work.”

“Where on the East Coast?” I asked.

I’d always been obsessed with that part of the country. I’d never been farther east than Florida, and there was just something about places like Boston, Manhattan, and Philadelphia that called to me.

“Cambridge. Massachusetts,” he said.

“So you went to Harvard.” Something about the fact that he didn’t say he went to Harvard irritated me. It felt like he was trying to get something past me; maybe I was just paranoid.

“I did,” he said, giving a nod and setting his fork on his now empty plate.

“It’s an okay school,” I said, “if you’re into that kind of education.”

His lips slid into a smirk that was hot in the way it was playful. “What kind would that be?”

“Excellent, I guess you might say,” I said. “If not slightly overpriced.”

I cut another piece of steak, fully aware that he was finished with his meal. Dexxie might be done, but I wasn’t walking away from this filet until my plate was clean.

“Yes, I guess you could say I was into an excellent-yet-slightly-overpriced education.”

I nodded. “I can see that about you.”

“Is there anything that makes you less of a smartass?” he asked, his eyes all over my face.

“Shots of tequila, but that doesn’t seem like a good move on jewelry night.”

He was quiet for a second before asking, “How do you hold your liquor, Mariano?”

“Very well, Powell.”

“Then let’s do a shot and try to sweeten you up before the event.”

I raised an eyebrow. “If you’re shooting for sweet, you better make it two.”

16

Jaques

Declan

“Let’s go look at engagement rings.”