“I don’t.”
At least he was honest. We moved back outside while we waited, taking our glasses with us. I removed my shoes and curled into one corner of a wide outdoor sofa while Lev sat on the opposite end, with his posture relaxed but his attention still fixed on me. The first hint of dawn had begun to show across the horizon.
He asked me about the hospital, and for the first time I got to talk about something that had nothing to do with Rome, stripping, stolen money, or surviving. I told him what I liked about working in the ER, how fast everything moved, and how some nights made me feel useful while others left me sitting in my car wondering whether I could keep doing it.
“You ever think about leaving?” he asked.
I frowned. “What? The hospital?”
He nodded.
“Yeah, sometimes and then I remember I actually like nursing. I just hate what it takes out of me.”
“What would you do if money wasn’t a problem?”
The question made me pause because nobody had asked me that in years. Rome had always told me what made sense, what fit around his schedule, and what I should be grateful for.Somewhere along the way, I had stopped imagining a life built around anything I wanted.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Maybe something slower. Somewhere I could still help people without feeling like I’m watching them fall apart every day.”
Lev leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees. “You good at it though.”
“I am.”
He nodded in agreeance. The chef arrived not long after, carrying two bags and a tray of cut fruit. He was a middle-aged man with sleepy eyes and a calm familiarity that told me this wasn’t the first unreasonable hour Lev had called him. He set everything inside, spoke quietly with Lev, then left without asking who I was.
The burgers were exactly what I needed because the thin patties had crisp edges, melted cheese, grilled onions, and soft bread that soaked up just enough grease to make a mess just how I liked it. The fries were hot, salted, and scattered with tiny pieces of herbs, while the fruit looked like each piece had been personally selected.
We ate at the counter, and the conversation lightened up even more. Lev told me how he had gotten into real estate after losing almost everything during his case. He didn’t give me all the details, but he gave me enough to understand he had built the life around us from the pieces left over after the government had tried to strip him clean.
He spoke about property the way some men spoke about women, and it wasn’t excitement, it was possession. He understood value, timing, and what other people overlooked. He could look at an old building and see what it would become before anybody else had the money or nerve to touch it.
“You love it,” I said, watching him talk about one of his first renovations.
His eyes were still focused on mine. “I’m good at it.”
“That isn’t the same thing Lev.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“But you do love it?” I asked with an eyebrow raised while eating a fry.
“Yeah, sometimes.” He admitted.
That was probably the closest Lev came to admitting he loved anything, but when Marv’s name finally entered the conversation, it didn’t happen by accident. Lev wiped his hands on a napkin and leaned back against the counter. “What you and Marv got going on?”
I stopped with another fry halfway to my mouth. I lowered it and asked, “What makes you think we got something going on?”
“He told me.”
Of course he did. I placed the fry back down and reached for my glass. “We’re not together Lev.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I stared into the tequila. “We talk, we’ve spent time together, but it’s casual.”
“How casual?”
My cheeks got warm, and I looked toward the pool. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
