Chapter 2
W e walked down Seventy-Sixth Street together, headed toward Second Avenue before we turned left.
We passed a pretty little French restaurant in silence before arriving at a small, homey Italian place.
He held the door for me, so I walked inside ahead of him.
The ma?tre d’ smiled then winked at Julian.
She had to be at least ten years older than him, not that I would judge her out loud. Just silently. He was really cute.
Then I rolled my eyes at my own foolishness.
I needed to remember the things I learned since I became orphaned.
After all, rich boys acted like rich boys, making women seemingly desperate to get their attention.
The women in question didn’t care if it made them seem pathetic and sort of creepy or like a child molester, so focused on their prize.
Then again, I don’t even know Julian’s age .
Still, even if he was eighteen, her open and admiring gaze pinged my ick factor hard. I gritted my teeth. Despite not wanting to know any more about him, I probably would have to eventually figure out his age.
“How old are you?” I asked bluntly as I sat across from him at the table.
Only an olive oil bottle and a table separated us as the drifting notes a crooner sang filled the room with low, melodic tones.
A glance around verified the music wasn’t live but some kind of recording.
The entire setup seemed designed for intimate conversations and comfort.
He picked up his menu, scanning it briefly before replying, “Seventeen.”
I guessed right. It also verified the creepy factor of the older woman basically hitting on him, yet he hadn’t even blinked at her attention.
I bet it happens to him all the time. Those blue eyes, and a wallet full of money?
He likely would find it more surprising if he didn’t get women’s attention.
Julian set down his menu. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to look at the menu. I know it by heart. My brothers and I come here once a week when we’re all in town.”
He’d mentioned his brothers several times.
Should I ask? It sounded natural to ask.
I second guessed myself, because experience had taught me the hard way that people didn’t want to tell me about themselves.
Better to pretend I don’t care and be left alone .
In this case, though, I decided to risk it. “How many brothers do you have?”
I stared at the menu to ensure I didn’t put him on the spot, but I also tried to figure out if I wanted to order the most expensive thing or the least expensive.
His granny wasn’t wrong about the credit card in my pocket—it burned when I had to use it.
Sometimes my aunt would sigh then bemoan how much she had to spend on me every month.
She would even pull out receipts, so they all could roll their eyes about how much Delphine’s daughter continued to cost them.
I might not have understood my mother’s hesitations when I was a kid, but I could see what her family’s money meant since she’d died—and the paper trail of how much I owed them. They might be enormously rich, but they resented every dime wasted on me.
Julian answered, “There are four of us, a huge family by today’s standards.”
Is it? I grew up in very rural areas, so I expected much bigger families.
Four didn’t seem unusual, although based on my school experiences in San Francisco and Chicago, he might have a point.
Among his kind, three kids seemed the magic number for a family.
In the city, it wasn’t at all unusual to find myself surrounded by a lot of only children.
I set down my menu, too, since I would just order pizza.
Deciding how much of a burden I wanted to be was too exhausting for the moment.
Besides, the faster we ate, the faster we could leave.
My fingers tapped the table, impatience thinning my lips and my temper .
Instead of dealing with him, I could be home with my drawings.
My brain practically twitched with ideas already—if such a thing were possible. I planned to hand draw some things, and I loved the process.
He stared as if waiting for me to say something more. I blinked twice, taking a sip of the water before I could force myself to speak. “I’m an only child.”
“Right.” He nodded, as though it didn’t surprise him. “But you live with your aunt right now, and you plan to spend the summer with my granny?”
I shrugged. “Unless she changes her mind.”
“She won’t. Once she sets on a path, it’s nearly impossible to get her off it.” The waiter approached, so Julian ordered sparkling water with lime and baked ziti.
The waiter, a tall, dark-haired man, nodded fast as he scribbled on his pad. “So, the usual then?”
“Right.” Julian smiled but he didn’t take his eyes off me. “Best in the city.”
I might have been fooled by his behavior before.
Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t quite as naive anymore.
In San Francisco, I thought I was making friends.
After my experiences there, I knew the Julians of the world played with people like me, but they didn’t mean anything by it.
They knew how to fake attention, and they might act like they cared, but they never actually cared.
They were trained from birth, after all.
Aloud, I said, “Pepperoni pizza for me, please, and I’ll just stick with water.”
The waiter nodded but didn’t otherwise comment then left. After a second, Julian leaned forward. “You are the least talkative dinner date I’ve ever had. Are you shy or rude?”
I wanted to giggle, but I only let my lips quirk for a second. In general, I refused to laugh in public, only giving in to temptation when I was alone.
“I don’t think I’m either, actually.” I sipped my water, buying time to find the right words.
“You didn’t really have to take me out, but you did because you wanted to get to know me.
Because of that, I understand that this is basically an audition to see if I’m safe enough to spend time with your grandmother.
Go ahead, ask your questions. I’ll answer to the best of my ability, and then you never have to be around me again. ”
The waiter delivered his seltzer and paused, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Hey Julian, I heard you made captain for water polo this year. Congratulations.”
I blinked in surprise. The twenty-something waiter knew about high school teams? They really must be rich. Maybe billionaire rich.
Julian dragged his blue gaze to the waiter. “That’s right. Jeremy and I decided to share it.” He glanced back at me, adding, “Jeremy’s my twin brother.”
I nodded, again a little surprised. I honestly didn’t expect him to share so much personal information. If we’d kept a score card, I would be kicking his ass.
“Well, I hope you guys win it all.” The waiter nodded then walked away.
I ground my teeth together, realizing we’d reached the part of the conversation where, if we were equals, I could ask him about Jeremy. I wasn’t deluded enough to fall for the illusion, though. I recognized it as an interview rather than him actually trying to get to know me, so I waited.
Finally, he asked, “So, why do you live with your aunt?”
I cleared my throat before answering. “Five years ago, my mom—my aunt’s twin—died.
Since they stayed out of touch for a long time, I didn’t know my mother’s family then.
Still, the authorities found them, so I went to live with my uncle—her older brother—in San Francisco.
After three years, we decided it wasn’t working out, so I moved in with my aunt.
She’s also older—they were four kids, too— and she lives in Chicago.
In the long run, it didn’t work out either.
” Things were so much worse with her, but I would never admit it to him.
“Now I’m living with my aunt, my mom’s twin sister, but only until I can get my grades up.
Eventually, she wants to send me to boarding school overseas somewhere, where I imagine I’ll stay until I turn eighteen. ”
He blinked before lowering his gaze. “That’s a lot of moving.” He sipped his drink but continued to stare at me. “Why doesn’t it work out?”
I shrugged, not surprised by his question.
“I can’t say for sure, but I think they don’t like me because they didn’t like my mom.
No one wants to be accused of not trying to do the right thing, but I am a constant reminder of a person they simply didn’t like.
” I held up my hand before he could try to say something nice or placating.
“But, despite that, I’m no danger to your granny.
Honestly, it will be nice for me to have someone to talk to for a few hours every day.
I won’t do anything that might put her in any danger or in a situation that might harm her in any way.
I have no criminal history.” I ticked the items off on my fingertips even though I’d already told him that.
Unwanted poor relations were often viewed as criminals by their more affluent family members—a lesson I learned the hard way in Chicago. “I’m unwanted but not bad.”
I swallowed, fiddling with my napkin to hide my fidgety fingers. I couldn’t believe I dared utter the phrase aloud, so I kept talking quicky. “I’ll do whatever she wants, then otherwise I’ll stay out of everyone’s hair.”
He sat up, crossing his arms, brows furrowing in thought.
“I’ve had no inkling whatsoever that you might be any kind of criminal, I’m just trying to make you out.
Sure, you’re not wrong. I’m curious for Granny, because we’re a close, private, family.
Every last one of us adores her more than anything.
Besides that, though, you’re different, and I never see anything different. All I ever see is more of the same.”