Chapter 40 Helena
When Jess asked me to tell him about Valerie, I needed a moment or two to gather myself.
I was so deeply moved by the fact that he finally understood how much our siblings had meant to each other—and that he was ready to change his opinion about my sister.
But I didn’t know where to begin—I had thousands of memories of Valerie on my mind today; I was going to have trouble choosing just one.
So I left it to him and asked, “What do you want to know?”
Jess considered for a moment. “What was her favorite food?”
“Pizza,” I replied, quick as a flash. “A Joe’s special—with parmesan, prosciutto, gorgonzola, and bacon. If she ever needed cheering up, that was your best bet.”
“Bold combination. But shows she was daring. And had taste.” Jess nodded appreciatively. “What was her biggest dream?”
I beamed. “To have her own business. We wanted to do tours of New York, and then other cities around the world.” I gave him the elevator pitch for our “Friends and the City” idea, though it was always hard to talk about it because the dream had died with Valerie.
“That sounds really good.” Jess looked at me, impressed. “Not that I’d ever encourage anyone to visit New York—”
“Philistine,” I shot back, grinning.
“—but if they were going to come anyway, that would be a great way to get to know the city. Why don’t you do it by yourself?” He was looking at me with such confidence that I found it hard to meet his eye.
“No, I can’t. I don’t… I’m not like her. Val had a gift; she could win people over with a few words and a smile. I can’t do that.” I shrugged and looked up at Jess again.
“I don’t think you have any idea what you’re capable of,” he said simply. “That you cast a spell on people just by looking at them. Or by throwing them on a crash mat, of course.”
I laughed, but the joke couldn’t distract from what he’d just said to me, and the effect it had.
Heat rose inside me again, my heartache about Valerie slowly giving way to another emotion, one that set my heart racing.
But I couldn’t let on how I felt right now.
Tonight didn’t belong to us—it belonged to our siblings.
So instead, I gave a mischievous grin and said, “Probably not a good move to try with potential investors, though. The mat thing.”
“Depends on the investor.” Jess cocked his head to one side. “In case you ever wanted to go ahead with the idea… I’d be in.”
I gazed at him, astonished. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. I invest in promising start-ups—you know that.”
“Yeah, I know.” The fact that he’d made me an offer didn’t exactly calm my nerves.
If we went into business together, we’d be connected, involved; we’d need to have regular conversations, meetings…
but no sooner was my excitement blooming at the prospect than my heart sank again.
“But it won’t come to anything. My parents are against it.
They didn’t like the idea when Valerie was alive, and I’m sure they won’t like it any more if I pitch it again now. Especially not if you’re involved.”
Jess’s expression turned serious. “I know your family’s important to you. But maybe you should pay less attention to what they say, and more attention to what it is you want.”
“You sound like Valerie.” I had to laugh.
“I think the two of you would have gotten along, you know. She had a similar take on familial expectations.” I’d always envied that about her—the independence she’d been accused of countless times after her death.
“Some people thought she was selfish. They didn’t understand that Valerie needed freedom like she needed oxygen.
Doing what our parents wanted her to do would only have killed her in a different way. Slowly and painfully.”
Jess gave a little snort of derision, and when I looked at him, I saw deep regret in his eyes. “Yeah, we are pretty similar, it seems.” He sounded so sad, it broke my heart. “I wish I’d known her. Maybe then I wouldn’t have spent the last three years blaming her for Adam’s death.”
I edged closer; it felt like there was too much space between us.
“They were great together,” I told him. “Sometimes a little annoying, though—they were so sickeningly in love with each other. They had no eyes for anyone else when they were in the same room. And even after just a few months, they had so many inside jokes, it was like they were speaking a different language.”
“They never argued?” Jess asked. His hand found mine, our fingers lacing together like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I can’t imagine that.”
“No, they argued. Valerie was pretty temperamental, and very direct when someone was important to her. But they always made up quickly. Maybe because peace and harmony were so important to Adam.”
Jess laughed softly. “He was always like that. Sometimes I hated so much that he would never argue with me when I was pissed about something. He always had some solution up his sleeve. One time I just yelled at him, Adam, for fuck’s sake, just get mad at me, that’s all I want!
And then he would try, but he wasn’t very good at it. ”
I looked down at our hands, enjoying the warmth of Jess’s fingers. “Did he have any faults? Weird quirks or anything? He always seemed so perfect.”
“Yeah, he had a few. But his faults were like him—too nice, somehow, to be really annoying.” Jess’s fond expression grew distant as he seemed to reminisce.
“I only moved back in with him and Trish when I was fourteen. And because it wasn’t enough, of course, for her to just clear a room and put my stuff in there, I shared Adam’s room until the builders had finished renovating.
” He grinned. “You wouldn’t believe it, but the guy actually made his bed every single morning.
A sixteen-year-old boy. Of his own accord.
And that wasn’t Trish’s parenting—she didn’t give a shit if he was tidy or not.
He did it because he wanted to. He said it gave his day structure. ”
I laughed. “Yeah, that checks out. I wonder if he still did that when he and Valerie were together.” I tried to imitate Adam’s voice. “Hey, honey, morning sex is really great and all, but I have to make the bed, or my day will have no structure.”
Jess laughed along, and it felt good.
Then he said: “That would never happen with me, that’s for sure.”
“What—that you’d make the bed, or that you’d go without morning sex?” I teased. If I remembered correctly, the bed we’d passed on our way up to the terrace wasn’t a complete mess, but it wasn’t exactly neatly made, either.
“Both, to be honest.” He grinned broadly. “What about you?”
“Me? I’m a Weston. Obviously, I make my bed in the morning like I was brought up to do. Right before the hundred squats and the contrast shower.” I nodded dutifully.
“And?” Jess was still looking at me intently. I knew what he was getting at.
“I’m not really a morning person,” I said casually.
His left eyebrow raised a little. “When, then? Evening?”
“Yeah, evenings are good. But at night is best, I find.” I held his gaze, not mad about the fact that the chemistry we had was back.
Talking about Adam and Valerie had dampened it, but I knew it was just simmering below the surface, waiting for the right moment to bubble up again.
Like right now. “In the middle of the night, when you wake up with a desperate need to tear each other’s clothes off.
There’s something about that. As if you were the only people in the entire world. ”
Jess looked at me intently for a long time, and I held my breath, sensing we were both thinking about the same thing: the two of us in bed together. My mouth went dry at the visions coming alive in my head, but at the same time I knew neither of us would act on the impulse. Not today.
I wanted to say something, break the tension somehow, but just then my stomach did the job for me by giving a loud rumble.
“Are you hungry?” Jess asked, grinning.
“Yeah, clearly.” I put a hand on my belly and pulled a face. “There was food at the ball, but somehow I wasn’t in the mood.”
“I know what you mean.” He stood up. “Do you like lasagna? I still have some left—I made two extra portions.”
“I love lasagna,” I replied. “And I haven’t had it in a long time.”
“Okay, wait a second. I’ll be back in a bit.” He flashed me a smile and left me alone on the roof terrace.
I pulled the blanket a little higher and took a deep breath, feeling a little lighter than I had a couple of hours ago.
I knew that coming to see Jess was wrong in principle, what with everything that would happen to me if it got out.
But at the same time, it was totally right.
Talking with him about Valerie and Adam, being open with him, knowing that I wasn’t alone in my grief had made this anniversary a little more bearable.
Right now, I didn’t want to think about what was going to happen tomorrow.
What was coming for me when I left this apartment and had to go back to the real world. So I didn’t.
Jess came back, a plate in each hand, cutlery sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans.
It seemed I wasn’t the only hungry one. We ate in silence for several minutes, broken only by my appreciative noises—the food was, of course, incredible.
“What happened to that idea you told me about at Bella Ciao?” I asked when my plate was finally empty. “The breakfast restaurant, I mean.”
Jess’s face darkened for a moment. “That… isn’t going to happen. Harper would be ready to sell. But only if I’m fully in. And I can’t promise him that.”
I knew why: because he wanted to leave again.
Get out of New York as soon as possible.
My stomach lurched unpleasantly when I thought of his moving back to Australia, or somewhere else.
It was silly; I wasn’t even supposed to be here.
But I liked being around him so much. It wasn’t just that I could be one hundred percent myself with Jess, he also gave me a feeling of peace and calm—which was crazy, seeing how he couldn’t find that himself in this city.
“That’s a real shame,” I said, gesturing toward his plate. “People would have been banging the door down.”
Jess’s mouth twitched into an easy smile. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but nowhere on the planet is lasagna served as a breakfast food.”
“Not yet,” I corrected him. “I think that needs to be rectified immediately.”
“You sound like Adam. He would have eaten lasagna any time of day.”
I heard the sadness in his voice and realized why Jess had made lasagna today—because it was Adam’s favorite food. “I didn’t know that,” I said quietly, my eyes on him. “That he liked it best.”
“Yeah, it was his absolute favorite, since he was little. When our dad asked us what we wanted to eat, Adam always asked for lasagna. One time, Dad made it for us for a whole week, hoping Adam would get sick of it. Not a chance. He scarfed it down with glee for seven days in a row, then was so disappointed when there was none left on Monday.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I can see where he’s coming from—especially judging by the one we just ate. If your dad was half as good a cook as you, I’d have begged him to make me lasagna too.”
“He couldn’t cook at all.” Still that sad smile.
“My dad could burn water. He either got food delivered from his restaurants, or we went there to eat. And when I was a little older and went to live with him, I started cooking for us. At first I wasn’t very good, but Dad ate it anyway.
I think he was pleased when I finally got good, though.
Food was something that brought us together. ”
Until he died, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. Jess had had to deal with so many losses in his life, and yet he didn’t sit here in front of me bitter and broken. I admired him for it—for staying true to himself despite everything. I could see it every time I looked in his eyes.
“What is it?” he asked softly, when he saw the look on my face.
“Nothing,” I replied, lowering my gaze for a moment, but then I looked up at him again. “I’m just glad I knocked on your door tonight.”
He smiled, and this time there was nothing sad about it.
“So am I.”