Page 69 of The Parent Trap

“I know we didn’t come all the way to San Francisco for some Jack in the Box.”

His grin widens. “Nope. Not even remotely.”

We finish eating, and there’s more of the conversation that just winds and twists and rabbit trails until I don’t even remember where we started out. Back in the car, and into downtown.

To a mall.

I laugh when he parks the hideously expensive car way in the back, away from any of the other cars.

“A mall?”

He shrugs. “When was the last time you bought something for yourself, just because?” When I blink and try to remember, he laughs, and pokes the front of my shoulder. “Exactly. Now come on, we’re going to go spend a colossal shitload of money.”

He’s so freaking good at manipulating me—we’re at the mall for over two hours, and he’s the one dragging me into a bazillion stores, shoving things at me to look at and try on…until I finally give in and let the feeling wash over me.

He pays for everything—a new leather coat, Louboutin sandals, a skirt, earrings and a matching necklace. Not only does he pay for it all, he refuses to let me look at the prices, and covers my eyes when the total comes up on the register. It becomes a game—see if I can get a peek at how much I’m spending.

It’s honestly intoxicating.

And through it all, he’s funny. The mean-spiritedness I thought was his trademark is nowhere to be found.

After the mall, we shop more near Union Square, and he continues to coerce me into buying shit I don’t need.

At some point, I stop him. “Thai. You better not be trying to…make up for…for anything.”

He just laughs. “There’s not enough money in the world to make up for the past, Delia.” He says this without a trace of irony or humor, just matter of fact. “This is for fun. You need fun, and this is fun. Is it not?”

I can’t help the smile on my face. “Yeah, it is. But you don’t need to spend all this money—”

“I thought you understood—I’m fuckin’rollingin it, babe. This? It’s not even pocket change. Don’t give it another thought.”

“But you haven’t gotten anything.”

He waves a hand. “It’s more fun this way. The one time a girl dumped me, and it actually hurt? Her name was…um. Claire? See, I’ve already forgotten. But anyway. We’d been seeing each other for a while, junior year at Yale. Couple months. It wasn’t serious, but I liked her. We had fun, we clicked. And then, apropos of nothing, she just told me she was bored of me and that was it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I caught a jet to Paris and spent a week buying everything in sight. I mean, it was legit crazy. Tens of thousands of dollars every day.”

I shake my head. “Crazy.”

“My point is, that shopping spree meant nothing. Not a dent. And I’ve got more now than I did then, because investments.”

“You just…hopped a flight to Paris.”

“Yup. Why not? I was pissed. Irritated, more than hurt. Like honey, don’t you know I’m the one who’s supposed to dump you? You can’t out-asshole me, asshole.”

I laugh at that. “But she did. For no reason?”

“Right. Said she was bored. I’m not boring! I know I’m not. I’m a lot of things, but boring isn’t one of them.”

“That’s for sure.”

He sees a store, and his eyes light up. “Here. Come on.”

Hermès.

“No, uh-uh, no way.”