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“No!” I rushed out, but it was too late.
He poured both of us a glass.
“What? Did you want to drink the whole thing yourself?” His eyebrow went up and he held out the glass for me to take.
“No, Stevie’s wedding is tomorrow and I was going to give it as a gift.” I sighed, taking the glass from him.
“You didn’t think of anything else?” He followed me into my living room, taking a seat with me on the floor near the window again.
“I did, but Stevie…Stephanie now, might not like it. I was thinking of something more sophisticated, so I was going to give the wine to Nathaniel, and give her some earrings,” I said, handing him a pillow.
He placed it behind his back as he drank. “Do you mean Nathaniel Van Allan?”
“You know him?”
“New York’s elite only mingle with one another. My mother’s been ‘friends’ with Mrs. Van Allan for years. We were both invited, but she just said she would go on her own.”
The way he said friends made me wonder how he, from one of the elite families, could be so down-to-earth and relaxed. Yes, he always dressed well, and yes, he owned expensive things, but he never came off as being a snob, at least not anymore. Even in the beginning, when I’d seen him as Dr. Asshole, I still understood that he was acting that way because he was angry and hurt. He genuinely did care about others; I could see it the day I was at the hospital.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I shrugged, drinking before speaking. “I was just thinking that you aren’t like them. You don’t care what other people think. Sebas—he…”
“You can say his name, Guinevere. He isn’t Voldemort.”
I giggled. “Well, Sebastian cared a lot. He wanted everything to be…high class. When I was dating him, I knew he liked finer things, and he liked to show off how well he was doing. That he wasn’t ‘just a trust fund baby’. I felt awkward and a little put on display sometimes, but the good outweighed the bad.”
Or at least, I had thought it did.
“Was he the one who picked out that dress for you?” He gazed at the city outside the window.
“How did you—”
“A tight, sparkling-with-crystals wedding dress does not seem to fit your style at all.”
Even though I agreed he was right, I was a little annoyed. “He didn’t really pick it out. He knew the owner of the bridal store I went into and had them bring out the very best and most expensive dresses. We had gone to other weddings before, and I knew which dresses he thought were ugly. I tried to pick one I knew he would like…wow, that sounds awful. But I can be girly, too.”
“Never said you couldn’t. It isn’t awful, just meant you really wanted to look nice for him. There isn’t anything wrong with that.”
“I’m glad you cut me out of it.” I smiled into the glass. “I would have held onto it like it meant something. I should have thrown it out weeks ago, or at least sold it to someone else, but with Stevie’s wedding tomorrow, I just…I don’t know. I just wanted to wear it one more time.” I was sure there was someone out there that would have fallen in love with it.
“The answer to your non-question about me not being like them is: my father,” he replied.
It took me a second to remember where the conversation had started.
“I don’t care what they think because they don’t matter to me. When my father died, I learned how superficial a lot of them were. Sure, they came to the funeral, held my mom's hand and whatnot, but I remember someone asking, Who is he again? What did he do? Where did he live? A few months later, some of the wives even tried to set my mother up. I guess to them, she should have moved on already. I just…I just wanted to hear stories of my father from them. Things they remembered as friends. But then I realized they never did anything more than go to the same parties. It was only the patients he helped that talked on and on about him. I think that’s one of the reasons I wanted to become a doctor so badly.”
“If your father saw you…” I started.
He turned to face me.
“If he saw you the way I did when I came to the hospital, I bet he would be more than proud. For a second, even I was like, 'Wow, so this is what he does every day.' I thought I wanted to do it, too. This coming from the girl who failed chemistry three ways to Sunday.”
He snickered. “Really? I thought I was only 'kinda cool'.”
“I scratched it out, didn’t I?” Damn note.
He laughed, and so did I.
