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“I mean of course I’m worried about the baby. And Haley, who I really care about now. But I’m more worried about my brother. Leo has been through so much already. And he loves Haley beyond what can be healthy. If anything happens to her…”
I wait a moment, but she doesn’t finish the sentence. “We don’t have to stay here, sweetheart. I can take you home or to Leo’s place or—”
“No,” she says, a faint pleading note in her voice. “I want this. Need it. Show me what it would be like to have a real date with Finn Hughes.”
“So the other dates weren’t real?”
“They were,” she says with a soft smile. “In a way they’re the realest things I’ve ever done. But I like this too. Both sides of you.”
“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”
“Maybe. If Dr. Jekyll were a billionaire who was too handsome for his own good. And if Mr. Hyde were secretly strong and grieving and lonely.”
“I feel like that story wouldn’t make a great musical.”
“No,” she says. “But it makes a great man.”
Warmth suffuses my chest. Goddamn. This woman really should be illegal. Not only because she’s sexy, but because she’s the real deal. Not like me. I’m fake. Pretend. Temporary. Every second that I spend with her, I’m one step closer to the end.
Oh, everyone knows we’re not promised a long and healthy life.
We can live with that uncertainty.
Unfortunately, my fate isn’t uncertain. I know exactly how it’s going to play out. And I watched my mother lose affection for my father as he drooled and babbled and essentially turned back into a child. I watched my father, in his lucid moments, ask for her.
I lie, of course. She’s shopping. She’s at the spa. Anything but the truth, which is that she hasn’t been in this house for years. In a matter of hours he’s forgotten about her again.
It’s a strange blessing.
I raise my hand to call the waiter over. “Put a hold on the foie gras and the risotto. We’re having dessert first. One of everything. And I expect at least one thing to be on fire.”
She smiles, like I hoped she would.
Christ.
I could spend a lifetime with this woman.
The only problem is, I don’t have a lifetime left to live.
“Tell me something about you,” she says after eating a bite of chocolate cremeux and caramelized banana. “I know about the casino and the boxing. Do you spend all your time seeking out illegal activity or do you have other hobbies?”
“Horses,” I tell her. “I breed them. Race them.”
A small notch forms between her eyes. “I remember seeing something about that. An article somewhere. That you were the youngest owner to win the Kentucky Derby.”
“It’s not precisely an achievement, owning them. It’s the jockey that does the work. And mostly the horse. You don’t make them race, you know. They want it. The real champions want to push the limits of what they can do, just like human athletes do.”
“Ah,” she says in a knowing tone.
“Ah, what?”
“It’s another one of your risky things. Like gambling.”
“There’s definitely a gambling element to horse racing. And they’ve made me a lot of money. But the truth is, I feel a connection to the horses. An understanding.”
“You like to be ridden?” A moment after the words are out, she turns pink.
I’m a gentleman enough to ignore it. Barely. “The horses are bred to be champions. They enjoy it, but they were also made that way. They can’t help it.”
