Page 23 of Brooklynaire

“But I never thought a guy like Bart would look twice at me,” she said, as if that made a lick ofsense.

“A guy like Bart,” I’d repeated slowly. And finally,finally, self-preservation kicked in.A guy like Bart. I didn’t ask why she thought muscly Bart was so special. I didn’t want to know whether it was his bench-press stats or his backward baseball cap or his too-loudlaugh.

Or the kitchen tablesex.

Before that moment, I’d never understood what people meant when they said “we grew apart.” And suddenly I did. “Take care of yourself,” I’d said, rising to my feet. “I’ll get my clothes on Sunday night while you’re at the gym. Everything else you cankeep.”

“Wait! Nate! It won’t happenagain.”

But no. That was that. When a girl tells you that your lifestyle is a drag and she thinks a tool like Bart is some kind of prize, there isn’t any more tosay.

That was six years ago, and I’ve been single ever since. Stewie hassles me about it sometimes. “It’s time to get back out there. You know that ‘married to your job’ is just a saying,right?”

Except it isn’t. Juliet was right. Being Nate Kattenberger is a full-time occupation. I travel a hundred days a year, and that’s before I count time spent with my hockey team. The more distance I get from the Juliet fiasco, the more sympathy I have for her choice. Maybe I don’t have anyone to share my life, but I’m not making a woman miserable,either.

It is what itis.

Here’s a funny thing—people make jokes all the time about how the women must swarm around me. “A single, rich guy like you? There must be a line of women around theblock.”

They’re right. Sort of. Lots of women want to share my bed. But it’s really tough to sort through the talent pool. Whenever I meet a woman I have to wonder—is she laughing at my jokes because she’s actually interested? Or is she just in it for themoney?

If the lady moans into my kiss, does she want my dick or my privatejet?

The year after Juliet left, I tried pretty hard to fuck her right out of my system. But that got old really fast. Especially after I noticed one morning that my latest conquest was texting a friend.I banged amultimillionaire.

That was before I’d made it tobillionaire. And the more money I make, the fewer women are granted braggingrights.

I’m practically a monk at this point. Even if I wanted to whore it up, my lifestyle makes casual sex tricky. I can’t invite strange women back to my home. At any moment there are probably three different trade secrets strewn around the house. Anyone who made it as far as my bedroom would have to sign a nondisclosure agreement—and not because of sexual proclivities.After you’re done fucking Nate, do not photograph any prototype devices you spot in the residence, record any phone calls, or read emails over hisshoulder.

Sexy.

So I’m a lonely guy, possibly by choice. And I don’t dwell on it, because I lead a very full life. I have literally all the money I could ever spend and the respect of my peers. I travel widely. I have friends, even if most of them are on mypayroll.

Though nobody is ever waiting at home for me—except people who are paid to bethere.

When I finally reach my front door, I tap the security code into the keypad. It’s not until I push open the door and step inside that I can hear voices coming from thekitchen.

It stops me—this unfamiliar sound of other people in my home. I seriously get chills at the sound of Becca’s suddenlaughter.

Jesus. What the hell is wrong withme?

As I walk through the parlor toward her, the sound of her conversation with Mrs. Graycarries.

“My Christian isn’t a fan of Mexican food,” my housekeeper is saying. “He doesn’t have a taste forspices.”

“Wait a minute,” Becca says. “Your husband’s name is…ChristianGray?”

“That’sright.”

“But…” Rebecca pauses. “There are books about a guy named ChristianGray—”

“I know, dear! I read the first one aloud to myhusband.”

“Really?” Rebecca giggles, and the sound of it does weird things to myinsides.

“Absolutely! When I showed him the lad’s name in the book, he was curious. And when I got to the saucy bits he insisted I keep reading. ‘Can’t let a pretend fellow have all the fun,’ hesaid.”

Rebecca laughs again, and I find myself smiling like alunatic.