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“Are you into astrology?” Iasked, changing the subject.
“I’m aware that I’m aCancer. And I’m aware that it’s too damn hot this time of the yearto have a birthday party in the Caribbean for a Cancer,” he said,reaching for the butter dish.
“You’re a Cancer, and I wasthe one crying last night.” I laughed at my own joke, even thoughhe wouldn’t get it.
“Am I supposed to be acrybaby?” He was intently focused on buttering histoast.
“A little bit, yeah. It’swhat your sign is known for.” When I had my phone again, I wouldlook up his full chart. “Do you happen to know what time you wereborn? We could find out your ascendant and all sorts ofthings.”
“Don’t tell me your sidegig is as an online psychic,” he teased.
“I can barely keep aregular gig,” I reminded him.
“Speaking of, how did youmanage to get so much time off?” I hoped she hadn’t quit the jobshe liked to be at my beck and call.
“I told my boss that abillionaire wanted to fly me to his private island, and she wasokay with that.” I tapped my temple. “Women know what’sup.”
“She’s probably imaginingyou down here with some liver-spotted old man.”
“Well, you are about toturn forty,” I teased him.
“Hey, forty isn’t old. AndI don’t feel old.” He glanced at his cane. “Well, I didn’t feel oldyesterday. Today…”
“Must have been somehook-up.” I reached for another chocolate croissant from thethree-tiered patisserie tray. “I shouldn’t make fun of you forbeing forty. You probably achieved more in your life by my age thanI have.”
“The only thing I’ve everachieved was being born into a rich family.” He took a sip from hiscoffee. “And I can’t take credit for that either.”
“What was it like, growingup that rich?” I blurted the question before I considered it mightbe a little rude.
“It was a childhood,” hesaid with a shrug. “I knew we were rich, but I didn’t have aconcept until I grew up and went out into the real world forcollege.”
“Ivy League isn’t exactlythe real world.” Even my parents’ amount of financial comfortwasn’t the “real world.” But I wasn’t there to lecture him abouthis money.
“It’s not the real world,but at least I learned about it,” he said. “And that shaped a lotof what I do, how I run my businesses.”
I wondered what kind ofimpact one could have on economic inequality from the hospitalitysector. “Oh, yeah?”
“Most of the resorts arecertified green. I know it’s not much, but I like to think that ifpeople are flying to get there, we need to offset that carbonemission. Our family-friendly resorts sponsor camps twice a yearfor underprivileged kids. I know it doesn’t sound likemuch—”
“It’s more than otherpeople do.” Of course, at the end of the day, he was still abillionaire. “And I assume charity…”
He nodded. “My mom hasalways been into that kind of thing, but it was always aboutraising ‘awareness,’ so it was a lot of check writing and fancyparties. I’m not into the parties, but I do write a lot of checks.”He paused and cocked his head. “Why are you sointerested?”
Because I need to know thatthe guy I’m falling for isn’t a horrible person. Even thoughbillionaire status is an instant qualifier for horribleperson.“I guess I’m looking for skeletonsin your closet that are too big to ignore.”
“Like the yard skeleton onsocial media?” He chuckled. “Are you trying to ruin our good thinghere?”
I laughed. “No. I’m notsure anything could ruin it.”
He reached across thecorner of the table and took my hand in his to squeeze it. But hedidn’t say anything. And that made my ribs ache and my stomachdrop.
I couldn’t keep doing this.I couldn’t keep falling in love. He didn’t plan on this beingpermanent. I didn’t plan on it. But now here we were, and he wasbeing so nice to me.
“You know, I think I’mgoing to go for a walk,” I said, pushing my chair backsuddenly.
“Ah. I think…” he looked athis cane. “I’m going to have to skip it today. But you’ll beperfectly safe.”
“I know,” I chirped. I’dbeen banking on that. “I’ll be back later. Don’t worry aboutme.”