Chapter Twenty-Five
Kwame
Good Advice
“I heard you saw Paloma.” Titus sits in the seat across from my desk, eyeing me.
I’m beginning to regret inviting him to drop by my office this evening. “Yeah. I saw her. What about it?”
He raises one eyebrow and smirks. “No need to be defensive. I just thought you guys were done.”
“We are. What makes you think otherwise?”
“That you guys hooked up.”
My stomach tightens. “God, she talks too much.”
“She thought I would know.” He gives me a hard, accusing stare.
“There was nothing to tell, Titus. What did you tell her?”
“Ouch.” He hisses and presses a hand to his chest. “I’ll forgive that because you’re clearly in a bad mood and not thinking straight. We’re friends, but K, you’re my brother. That information highway is a one-way street. You know that.”
I sigh and shake off some of the tension in my shoulders. It’s been a long week. “I know. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what she said to who. I ended things for good.”
He sits up, leans forward. “I’m not trying to get involved and you don’t have to explain.”
“I just want you to know I’m not leading her on. We’re friends. I was having a shit day. I smoked a joint, we drank some whisky, and I didn’t say no when she offered to make me feel better. Then Sin showed up—”
He sits up straight in his chair. “I thought Lo was lying when she told me that part.”
“She wasn’t. It was a disaster of nuclear proportions.”
“What did she say?”
“She hasn’t spoken to me. I have to make things right.”
“Are you sure about this? I mean, Lo said she’s a normie journalist? Your family hates the press.”
I wince at his parroting of phrases I’ve used in the past. “She’s a lifestyle reporter, and a good one.”
He snorts. “Damn. If you want to break that rule…you must really like her.”
Something pleasant bubbles in my chest. “I do.”
“So why were you with Lo?”
The question is an indictment and my initial reaction is to defend myself.
“I thought I didn’t have a chance. Last time we spoke, I was going to tell her how I felt, remember?”
“Yes, I assume it didn’t go well?”
“I didn’t get to tell her. I found out her parents hate my dad and chickened out. Now, I’m afraid I’ve really blown it.”
His sigh is weary and long suffering. “It’s probably for the best if her parents don’t like your dad. I mean, were you really going to bring her into your family fold?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Yes,” I snap irritated with myself more than him.
His question gets to the heart of my worry about introducing Sin to the other part of my life. I stand up and walk to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks his father’s massive back garden. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Same reason you didn’t invite her to join us this weekend.”
I sigh and roll my neck to ease the tension, resting my forehead on the cool glass window. I watch the stream of cars, pedestrians, and courageous bike riders navigate the roundabout that spills traffic onto Thirteenth Street and wish I was down there, on my way home.
“I could hardly ask her to come all the way to Highland Beach with a bunch of people she doesn’t know.” I don’t add that there’s no one there I want to introduce her to there. Including Titus.
Not yet.
“Lo said she didn’t think she was your type.”
Irritation puts a damper on my mood. “Lo doesn’t know what my type is.”
“Can she handle the spotlight? Is she ready for the scrutiny that will come with being the partner of a billionaire?”
“I’m not a billionaire.”
“You will be. Your life is going to change when that happens. You’ll pivot easily, but will she?”
Suddenly tired, I sit back down in my chair and close my eyes. “I know it’s hard to imagine, but I like my life as it is.”
“So you keep saying. I just don’t believe anyone would want to live like they’re poorer than they are. You’ve never lost everything. But I have and trust me, you wouldn’t want to trade places with me.”
Contrite, I let it go. “You’re right that I don’t know. But I try to do what I can to spread the wealth.”
“There aren’t many people with money who are as generous as you.”
I shrug. “How can I really be rich if the people I love aren’t, too?” I don’t think I’m as generous as I could be, but the trust has restrictions on how much I can spend at a time.
“Touché. And thank you, Kwame.”
“You’re welcome.”
He glances at his wristwatch and then gets to his feet. “You ready to go? If we hit the road now, we can grab dinner before we catch the charter up.”
“We can have dinner, but I have something to do in the morning so I’ll stay and make the drive after.”
This conversation was the kick in the pants I needed.
I’m over my pride and out of patience.
If the mountain won’t come to me, I will go to her.