New York Billionaires Series

“Cheese is my favorite meal.”

“It’s not really a meal,” Tristan tells him.Còntens bel0ngs to Nô(v)elDr/a/ma.Org

“Yes, it is,” Joshua replies with the tone of someone who’s had to explain this multiple times. “We should give you a tour.”

“A tour?”

Joshua nods, and Tristan steps in, a wide smile on his face. “You’re right, buddy. Of course we should.”

Ah, because I haven’t been here before. Not in Joshua’s eyes, anyway. I nod in the direction of the living room. “Lead the way, guys.”

Joshua is just as relaxed and funny, the same happy-go-lucky kid he’d been the past weekend in the park. He doesn’t seem to mind my presence, talking to his dad about things he’d likely talk about even if I wasn’t there.

Seeing the two of them interact twists something inside me. For all his fears, Tristan is a really great dad. One look at how confident and kind his son is makes that crystal clear.

His housekeeper doesn’t comment on my presence, but treats me with the same natural, effortless level of comfort as she does the other two.

“Dad,” Joshua says when he’s done, pushing his plate away. “Let’s make s’mores for dessert.”

Tristan looks like he’s fighting a smile. “S’mores… but we’re not camping.”

“You don’t have to be camping to have them,” Joshua explains, turning to me. “Do you like s’mores?”

“They’re pretty great,” I admit. “I made them in the microwave the other night.”

“You did?”

“Oh yes. It’s one of my favorite things.”

Joshua’s eyes widen and he turns to Tristan. “See? Our guest loves s’mores! So it’s kind of our responsibility, too. As hosts.”

Tristan laughs, reaching over to run his hand through Joshua’s hair. “We’ll make s’mores, kid. Over the fireplace?”

“Yes!”

Joshua goes to his room to play after dinner, with the happy words that s’mores are only half an hour away. We’ve been instructed to tell him as soon as it’s time.

I don’t want to leave this. Not when I’m just learning their lives, their secrets. Captivated by their charm.

Tristan nods toward his office and I step past him into the man-cave. “Thanks for dinner,” I say.

He crosses the distance to me. “Was it too much?”

“Too much?”

“Dinner, here. Me and Joshua.”

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

He reaches up to run a tendril of my hair between his fingers. “You’re sure? You’ve been distracted all through dinner.” His jaw works, the only sign of discomfort. “I know it must be difficult to date a man who’s a father. Not having time just to… date.”

“No, Tristan, that’s not it.” I reach out and curl my fingers around the soft fabric of his shirt. “Not at all.”

His thumb curves down to my chin. “Then what is it?”

“Eleanor wanted to speak to me today,” I say. Needing to say the words aloud, wanting to hear his calm, collected input on it. Tristan can make sense of this.

“Did she?”

“Yes. There’s an opening in your Milan office.”

His thumb stills along my jawline. “That’s right. I saw it in an email today, from HR. Did they approach you?”

I nod. “Eleanor wants to recommend me for it. It’s a full-time position. And I don’t know what to do.”

His hand moves again, his gaze watching it travel down my neck. “It’s a good opportunity for you.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And you’d get to experience living in Italy. Honor your grandfather. Speak the language.”

“Yes, but-”

Tristan shakes his head. “This is fantastic, Freddie. I understand why they approached you.”

I nod, mute.

His smile slants. “I know you want to go.”

I do, but as I look into the deep blue of his eyes, the decision isn’t an easy one. It’s not really a decision at all, not when I feel bonded to the man in front of me. To my co-workers and the life I’ve started to build here.

My throat closes. “I asked for the weekend to think about it.”

“Good,” he says.” Very professional.”

“You’re ambitious, Freddie. And brave. Two of the things I like most about you. You’ll do brilliantly in Italy.”

“I’ll miss you, though.” Somehow, I manage to keep my voice light. My smile crooked. “Amongst all the gelato shops and the Vespas.”

He smiles right back at me. “So will I. But I’d hate myself for holding you back.”

I find myself nodding. Like we’ve agreed on this, as if the decision is made, even as my heart feels like fracturing. He’s not reacting the way I’d hoped. The way I’d needed.

Tristan tips my head back and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s full of the same quiet confidence as usual, but something about it makes me want to cry. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s have s’mores. They don’t have that in Italy, do they?”

I rest my head in my hands, turning away from the bright glare of unread emails in my inbox. The same fucking inbox that’s full every time I look, no matter how many emails I keep reading.

Jenny’s voice comes back to me, as it does from time to time. Little things she used to say. Don’t work to live, she’d say. Right before leaving on one of her adventures around the globe, taking her to Southeast Asia or Bermuda or the coral reefs that shelter Australia’s Gold Coast. I didn’t start listening to her advice until after she’d gone. What would she tell me in this situation?