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“Not your parents?”
I snort. “No. They have enough on their plate. I’m supposed to be the easy one.”
“How do you figure?”
“Maybe not easy, but independent,” I self-correct.
“Are you not close with them?”
“I’m one of five. They have their hands full with my sisters. I have seven nieces and nephews already. They don’t need to be worrying about me offing myself in the East River.”
Olivier startles. “Is that an option?”
“No,” I sigh. “I’m not suicidal. My mood isn’t an emergency.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to ignore it or just live with it.”
“I can’t afford a shrink, Olivier. I don’t have health insurance.”
He’s silent for a long moment—long enough for me to button up my shirt and buckle my belt, and then he says, “So you’re in a hole, I’m throwing down a rope, and you’re turning your nose up at it. Am I hearing this right?”
“It’s not that simple,” I mumble.
“Actually, it is. You’re the one making it complicated.”
I grimace. “I realize that.” I’m starting to, anyway.
“And you don’t think that’s stupid?”
I walk over to this sweet, sweet summer child and take his face in my hands, making him look up at me. “You’ve made your point.”
“So you’ll move in with me? Take a break and get yourself sorted out?”
I kiss his forehead. “I’m not answering that right now.”
“What can I say or do to convince you?”
“You can stop talking.” I lower my mouth to his, but he keeps his lips closed. I linger there, regardless, grounding myself in his scent, his warm breath, and his certainty. “I hear you,” I say against his mouth. “Now it’s your turn to be patient.”
“I’m not very good at that.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I press my lips to his cheek instead. “You want to take the subway or pay for a ride?”
“Are you joking?”
I give his thighs a tap. “Well, let’s get going.”
“Do you have time to eat?”
“No. But you can always order me something, sugar daddy.”
“I would love to be your sugar daddy,” he murmurs as he uses his phone to request a ride uptown. “Nothing would make me happier.”
I think back to a few weeks ago when I was hoping some rich lady would take me on as a paid companion. Maybe the difference is that was my idea, and I didn’t see feelings getting involved. But Olivier’s offer feels like something else. Pity, maybe? No, that doesn’t sound right, either.
I’ll have all night to ruminate on it. At least I’m not angry anymore. And the sex didn’t hurt either.
He stands and wraps his arms around me. As I return the hug, he says, “If you think of anything else I can do, you’ll tell me, won’t you? You don’t expect me to read your mind and figure it out all by myself, right? I’m not exactly experienced in relationships.”
