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He gives a small smile. “So do you have any idea who it was?”
“No. He had a Kiwi accent. He gave me the impression he knew you. But that’s about it.”
“Would your brother be able to tell you anything more?”
“I’ve asked him. He was high when he met him. They were in a group, and there were a lot of people around. He said he can’t remember. The guy gave him his phone number, and after that they only spoke by phone.”
“Can you give me that number?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. If you call him, he’s going to know you got the number through me or Dan. He’s not a pleasant guy. I don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“How about if I promise not to call him directly? I’d like to try and find out who this guy is who wants my work so badly.”
I chew my bottom lip. Then finally I nod. I take my phone out and read him the number, and he programs it into his phone. Then he puts it away.
“All right,” he says softly. “Enough about him.”
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes, I believe you.”
I blow out a relieved breath. “I’m so glad. And Mack… I’m so sorry, for everything. I’ve been terrified over the last few days, and last night… I can’t tell you how awful I felt.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” He leans back in his chair, putting his cutlery down and picking up his mug. “I want to apologize too.”
My eyebrows rise. “For what?”
“For a start, for not giving you the chance to explain yourself. I was angry and hurt, and I lashed out. And I’m sorry about that.”
“I don’t blame you for it.”
“Well, that’s kind of you, and it’s more than I deserve. But it’s not just that.” He drops his gaze to his mug and he’s quiet for a moment. I spear a couple of mushrooms and eat them while I wait for him to gather his thoughts. The sunshine falls across his face, painting his cheeks and mouth butter-yellow. I’d like to get up and kiss him and see if he tastes as warm and sweet as he looks.
I don’t. But I think about it.
“Work is everything to me,” he says, lifting his gaze back to mine. “It has been since I was sixteen, when I made the decision to choose computers over sprinting. I threw myself into it, and I’ve dedicated my life to it. I’ve seen the amazing things computers can do, everything from helping find vaccines for terrible diseases, to sending people into space, to solving climate problems. I know everyone thinks money must be the driving force behind people like me, and I’m not going to lie and say it isn’t nice to live in luxury, and to make sure my family is comfortable. But that’s not why I work. I do it because I want to help solve the world’s problems, as egotistical and pretentious as that sounds.”
I watch his face as he talks, mesmerized by his passion. “I understand,” I say, remembering how he helped the driver of the car.
He looks back at his coffee mug. “But the thing is, when you’re diverting ninety-nine percent of your time and attention to work, other things fall by the wayside. Romance is one of them.”
“Okay.”
“The few times I’ve had a relationship, the other person has made demands on me that I couldn’t cope with. As I understand it—and I acknowledge that I don’t have a lot of experience—a good relationship is about trust. Again, in my limited experience, when I work long hours, women don’t seem to be able to trust me. They’re always jealous. They constantly call me to ask me where I am and who I’m with, and act hurt because I’d rather be working than be with them. And I can’t deal with that.”
“Okay,” I say. “Fair enough.”
He frowns, then runs a hand through his hair, apparently mistaking my agreement for sarcasm. “This isn’t coming out right.”
“No, I understand what you’re saying.”
“Do you? Because I know I’m not explaining myself well.”
“You told me you couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
“That’s true.”
I push my plate away, lean on the table, and study his face. “I assume you’re saying that you still want me, but once you’ve had me, it’s over.”
