Problematic Summer Romance (Not in Love, #2)(33)

“They see her as a gold digger who married my father for his money.”

“How come?”

“Probably because she is a gold digger who married my father for his money.” He seems unbothered. “But she’s been putting up with his shit for nearly ten years. Whatever riches she’ll walk away with, they’re earned.”

“Oh. Will she…have long enough to enjoy the fruits of her labors, once he dies?”

“I hope so, since she’s younger than me.”

I almost swallow my tongue. “What?”

“Only by a few months.”

“This feels…” I tilt my head, wondering what Conor’s lines are, what his reactions might be to have them crossed. “Fucked up?”

“Funny you should say that, because ‘Fucked up’ is written in Latin on the Harkness family insignia. Problematicus.”

I laugh. “Was it weird? When they got married?”

“Nah. I was already in the US for school, and our house had been a revolving door of beautiful young women since the day my mom died.”

“Ah. Was that your dad’s way of dealing with grief and heartbreak?”

He snorts. “The women were there when my mother was alive, too. He simply had the grace not to bring them home.”

“I see. And, do you like your stepmother?”

“A lot.”

I gasp. “Are you secretly in love with her? Please, say yes. I need this juiciness in my life.”

“Your friend group already has plenty of incestuous juiciness, you don’t need to borrow mine. And no, I’m not. She is, however, my one family member who wouldn’t throw another human being into a wood chipper for a wad of cash, which makes me partial to her.”

I watch him neatly cut into his meat. Take a tidy, gentlemanly bite. “Did you…”

He spears a piece of tomato, patiently waiting for me to continue.

“You used to date Minami, right?”

“This is refreshing.” I cock my head, confused by his response, and he explains, “Someone bringing up Minami in my presence.”

“Oh. Do people not?”

“Not our relationship. Lots of pussyfooting.”

“Is it because you are still in love with her?”

“I still love her very much, yes.”

“Wow,” I scoff.

“Wow?”

“If you think I don’t see what you did there…”

He smiles again. Says nothing. I might be ready to offer him money to take off those damn sunglasses.

“What about Sul? Are you jealous? Do you sometimes wish you could peel the skin off his scalp, just a little bit?”

“Is that what you want to do to the blonde?”

“Yeah,” I say, dejected. “Please, don’t leave me alone with this horrible thing I just said.”

His shoulders shake with laughter. “I wish I could, but…have you met Sul? He’s a great guy. There’s nothing to hate, there.”

He’s not wrong. Sul is such a quiet presence, I used to joke with Eli that he acted more like Minami’s bodyguard than a partner, a gentle giant Velcroed to her side. “I was obsessed with Minami, growing up. Still am, really. And I have to admit, I’ve always wondered what she saw in him.”

Other guys would jump at the chance to shit-talk their ex’s husband. Conor just says, “It’s not for us to know. He’s different, with her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s how relationships work. If it’s a good one, you let loose. You show all sides of yourself.”

“Yeah? Then maybe my relationship with Alfie wasn’t all that good.”

“It wasn’t.”

“How do you even know?”

“The Post-its on your desk, with city names. You had seven. Four on the right—Austin, London, Cambridge, Massachusetts, and Durham—and three on the left. And Edinburgh was nowhere to be seen.”

“Oookay, Sherlock. And you can divine that my relationship with Alfie sucked, because…”

“The Post-its on the right are graduate programs that you are still considering.”

My heart speeds up. “How do you know that the ones on the left—”

“You discarded them a while ago. They were stacked together, for one. And you didn’t doodle the city skylines on the bottom—nice Big Ben, by the way. But there was no Edinburgh Post-it in either pile, because you eliminated that option a while ago. Long before you broke up. Even though last night Alfie told me he’s got a full-time museum gig lined up for next year, here in the city. And it didn’t sound like fresh news.”

I lick my lips. “Long-distance relationships are a thing.”

“You didn’t even apply for Edinburgh, did you?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. No. I didn’t. I want to tell him that it wasn’t that deep, but maybe—

“I’m surprised Austin’s still in the running.”

I am, too. Have been surprised about it for ages. I applied almost in a trance, and when the acceptance letter came, I felt a rush of relief. I don’t think I want to go home, but…

“Is April fifteen the deadline to commit?” he asks, clearly savvy about the process.