Page 120 of Van Cort

“Gym.”

“Pizza please.”

I order a selection with the concierge from the best place nearby and then look back at her, pulling at my tie in the same breath.

“So, sex before pizza and talk?” she asks. “And do you honestly eat pizza? Pizza seems so unlike you. Well, actually, I’m not sure about that.”

“No sex. And yes, I do enjoy pizza. Wine for the talk?”

“Yes, please. Why no sex? You were ready for sex, weren’t you?”

“Very much so.”

“But not now?”

I stare, wondering what the fuck is going on with her. “Whilst watching your ass made me very ready for sex, I think you needme to talk more and fuck less, and I think I need to talk so you understand who you’re part of. Yes? But, just to clarify the point, I don’t need to fuck less. In fact, I could fuck all night. Is that enough clarity?”

“Quite clear.” She rolls her eyes. “Thank you for the clarification.”

Wine gets poured, and we both move through to the lounge area. She glances around, taking in my apartment and smiles to herself about something.

“Something funny?” I ask, as I hand her her wine.

“No. It’s just, this is you. I expected this. Maybe a few more splashes of colour here and there, but this is more you than your place in Vancouver.” I move to go outside to take in the view.

“That’s because I haven’t done anything with that place. It’s still all my father. Luckily for you, I’m not him.”

Following me out, she comes to stand beside me. “Do you want it to be more you?”

“Do you?” She tilts her head, confused.

“Me? What’s it got to do with me?” Everything. “You see, this is what I mean, Everett. I’m asking ifyouwant it to be a home, and you turn it back on me. What doyouwant from it?”

“I don’t know.” I pause, letting the thought linger in the air, and lean on the glass railing that surrounds the terrace. “No, that’s not right. It’s not honest either. That place should be a home for family, and love, and hot summer days and cold, cozy winters. But it was never any of that for me. It was only somewhere that taught me how to navigate my father. It was harsh, painful, unyielding, and full of blame and hate and booze, and because of that, I’ve turned out like this.” I look sideways at her resting alongside me. “In some respects, I’m sorry you’re now caught up in that because you were never supposed to be, River. I was just going to find someone who meant little to me so I could do the thing I needed to do to ensure Van Cort, breed, and then it probably would have been split homes for a loveless marriage and we’d barely see each other. It would have been disciplined and desperately unhappy, for the woman at least. But now there’s you. You’re a navigation I wasn’t prepared for and, like it or not, I’m now full of complications I’m yet to disclose.”

“What complications?”

“Who I am. How I am. Who I’d like to be.”

She takes a moment before leaving me on the rail and choosing one of the chairs to sit in. “And who would you like to be, Everett?” I turn to face her.

“Whole. I’d like to be whole, River. And at peace. I’d heard that love does that to a guy. I didn’t believe it, but being in love does make everything so much more vivid. It opens possibilities and shows me options and thoughts and desires that I never thought I’d have, I deserved, or I wanted.”

“Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“I just said exactly that.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you did. Say it clearer.”

My mouth quirks, and I slide my hand in my pockets. “Romance?”

“Not necessarily. Just better than that.”

“Okay. Yes, River. I am in love with you, and I know it because the first thing I thought of when you asked me if I wanted the house to be more like me is that I’d rather it be more like you. I’d rather you helped me get rid of every hateful memory I have there and we built new ones, together.” The intercom buzzes in the background as I look at her, interrupting what should be a moment just for us. “I can’t say it any clearer than that. I want to be there, but only if you’ll come with me.”

She just stares at me, slightly open-mouthed, as if she didn’t expect to hear any of that. I want to smile, to find it amusing in some way that she never knew or expected it, but that’s the part of me that lives in other people’s misery and pain. And the last thing I want is her feeling any pain. The shame of it is, regardless of this honesty from me, she is going to feel pain. At some point very soon, it’s going to hurt like hell, and that’s because of me – because of my brother.

I turn and walk back to the kitchen to answer the door, and when I open it, I find three sad-looking boxes of pizza waiting for me on the hall table. I look at them, and then over my shoulder to where she still is. This whole conversation needs more than this, more love, more trust, more offer of forever.