Hello, Nerves.
My sleep was most decidedly…flaily.
Chapter Eighteen
“DID YOU ALWAYS KNOW you wanted to take pictures for a living?”
“What? Where did that come from?” Simon laughed, sitting back in his chair and looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup.
We were enjoying a lazy breakfast on my last day in Spain. Dark coffee, tiny little lemon cakes, freshly cut berries and cream, and a side of sunny coastline. Clad in Simon’s shirt and a smile, I was in heaven. Nerves seemed very far away this morning.
“I mean it,” I insisted. “Did you always want to do this? You seem, well, you’re very intense when you’re working. You seem like you really love it.”
“I do love it. I mean, it’s a job so it has its tedious moments, but yeah, I love it. It wasn’t something I always planned, though. In fact, there was a different plan altogether,” he replied, a dark look passing over his face.
“What does that mean?”
“For a long time I planned on following my father into his business.” He sighed, a rueful smile slipping into place.
My hand was in his before I even realized I’d offered it. He squeezed, and then took another sip of his coffee.
“Did you know Benjamin worked for my father?” he asked. “Dad hired him right out of school, mentored him, taught him everything. When Benjamin wanted to go out on his own, you’d think Dad would’ve been pissed, but he was so proud of him.”
“He’s the best.” I grinned.
“Don’t think I don’t know about the crush you girls have on him. I’m aware.” He gave me a stern look.
“I’d hope so. We’re not exactly subtle in our admiration.”
“Parker Financial Services was getting big, really big, and Dad wanted me to come onboard as soon as I was done with college. I honestly never thought I’d leave Philadelphia. It would have been a great life: working with my dad, country club, big house in the ’burbs. Who wouldn’t want that?”
“Well…” I murmured. It was an idyllic life, for sure, but I couldn’t picture Simon there.
“I worked on our high school newspaper, taking pictures. I took the class as an easy A. You know, good for my transcript? But even though I got assignments like covering the women’s field hockey tryouts, I really liked it. Like, really liked it. I just figured it would always be a nice hobby. Never really thought about it as a career. My parents supported me, though, and my mom even got me a camera for Christmas that year—the year that…well…” He paused, clearing his throat a bit.
“Anyway, after everything happened with Mom and Dad, Benjamin came out to Philadelphia for the, um, for the funeral. He stayed for a while, got things in order, you know. He was the executor of my parents’ will. And since he was living out on the West Coast, well, the idea of staying behind in Philadelphia didn’t sound so great. So, long story short, Stanford accepted me, I started studying photojournalism, I got really lucky with some internships, and then right-place-right-time, and bam! That’s how I got into this gig,” he finished, dunking his cake and taking a bite.
“And you love it.” I smiled.
“And I love it,” he agreed.
“So what happened to your dad’s company? Parker Financial?” I asked, spooning up a bite of berries.
“Benjamin took over some of the clients for a while, and over time he quietly closed up shop. The assets were transferred to me, per the will, and he manages it for me.”
“Assets?”
“Yep. Didn’t I tell you that, Caroline? I’m loaded.” He winced, looking out to sea.
“I knew there was a reason I was hanging out with you.” I topped off his coffee.
“Seriously. Loaded.”
“Okay, now you’re just being an ass,” I said, trying to lift the tension that had settled over the table.
“Well, people get weird about money. You never know,” he said.
“When we get home you’re buying our building and installing a hot tub on the landing, that’s all,” I joked, which earned me a small smile.
We sat and looked at each other, deep in our own thoughts. He’d done so much alone. No wonder he always seemed a little lost to me. Living out of a suitcase, not allowing himself to be tethered to anyone, no real sense of belonging—could it really be that simple? Wallbanger had haremed because he couldn’t stand to lose anyone else? Paging Dr. Freud…
Freudian or no, it made sense. He was attracted to me, had been attracted to me since the beginning. But what was different this time? Clearly he’d been attracted to all the other women as well. Wow, no pressure at all…With a toss of my head, I tried to change the subject.
“I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow. I feel like we just got here.” I leaned forward on my elbows. He smiled, likely noticing my not-so-subtle way of changing the subject. But he seemed grateful.
“So stay. Stay with me. We can spend a few more days here, and then who knows? Where else do you want to go?”
“Pfft. You’ll recall that I’m leaving before you because it’s the only flight I could get. Besides, I have to be back at work, organized, and in the right time zone on Monday. You know how many jobs Jillian has lined up for me?”
“She’ll understand. She’s a sucker for a good romance. Come on. Stay with me. I’ll stash you in the overhead bin for the flight home.” His eyes twinkled over his coffee mug.
“Overhead bin, my foot. And is this what this is? A romance? Shouldn’t you be embracing me on the beach? And ripping my bodice?” I placed my bare legs in his lap, and he took full advantage of this, massaging between his warm hands.
“Lucky for you, I’m a bodice-ripper from way back. I could probably even throw together a pirate costume, if that’s what you’re into,” he replied, the sapphires beginning to smoke.
“It has been quite a romantic tale, hasn’t it? If someone would’ve told me this story, I doubt I’d have believed it,” I mused, groaning as I finished my last bite.
“Why not? It’s not that strange how we met, is it?”
“How many women do you know who would voluntarily go to Europe with a man who’d been banging the plaster right off her walls for weeks?”
“True, but you could also spin me as the guy who played you all those great records through the wall, and the guy who gave you, and I quote, ‘the best meatball ever’?”
My sleep was most decidedly…flaily.
Chapter Eighteen
“DID YOU ALWAYS KNOW you wanted to take pictures for a living?”
“What? Where did that come from?” Simon laughed, sitting back in his chair and looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup.
We were enjoying a lazy breakfast on my last day in Spain. Dark coffee, tiny little lemon cakes, freshly cut berries and cream, and a side of sunny coastline. Clad in Simon’s shirt and a smile, I was in heaven. Nerves seemed very far away this morning.
“I mean it,” I insisted. “Did you always want to do this? You seem, well, you’re very intense when you’re working. You seem like you really love it.”
“I do love it. I mean, it’s a job so it has its tedious moments, but yeah, I love it. It wasn’t something I always planned, though. In fact, there was a different plan altogether,” he replied, a dark look passing over his face.
“What does that mean?”
“For a long time I planned on following my father into his business.” He sighed, a rueful smile slipping into place.
My hand was in his before I even realized I’d offered it. He squeezed, and then took another sip of his coffee.
“Did you know Benjamin worked for my father?” he asked. “Dad hired him right out of school, mentored him, taught him everything. When Benjamin wanted to go out on his own, you’d think Dad would’ve been pissed, but he was so proud of him.”
“He’s the best.” I grinned.
“Don’t think I don’t know about the crush you girls have on him. I’m aware.” He gave me a stern look.
“I’d hope so. We’re not exactly subtle in our admiration.”
“Parker Financial Services was getting big, really big, and Dad wanted me to come onboard as soon as I was done with college. I honestly never thought I’d leave Philadelphia. It would have been a great life: working with my dad, country club, big house in the ’burbs. Who wouldn’t want that?”
“Well…” I murmured. It was an idyllic life, for sure, but I couldn’t picture Simon there.
“I worked on our high school newspaper, taking pictures. I took the class as an easy A. You know, good for my transcript? But even though I got assignments like covering the women’s field hockey tryouts, I really liked it. Like, really liked it. I just figured it would always be a nice hobby. Never really thought about it as a career. My parents supported me, though, and my mom even got me a camera for Christmas that year—the year that…well…” He paused, clearing his throat a bit.
“Anyway, after everything happened with Mom and Dad, Benjamin came out to Philadelphia for the, um, for the funeral. He stayed for a while, got things in order, you know. He was the executor of my parents’ will. And since he was living out on the West Coast, well, the idea of staying behind in Philadelphia didn’t sound so great. So, long story short, Stanford accepted me, I started studying photojournalism, I got really lucky with some internships, and then right-place-right-time, and bam! That’s how I got into this gig,” he finished, dunking his cake and taking a bite.
“And you love it.” I smiled.
“And I love it,” he agreed.
“So what happened to your dad’s company? Parker Financial?” I asked, spooning up a bite of berries.
“Benjamin took over some of the clients for a while, and over time he quietly closed up shop. The assets were transferred to me, per the will, and he manages it for me.”
“Assets?”
“Yep. Didn’t I tell you that, Caroline? I’m loaded.” He winced, looking out to sea.
“I knew there was a reason I was hanging out with you.” I topped off his coffee.
“Seriously. Loaded.”
“Okay, now you’re just being an ass,” I said, trying to lift the tension that had settled over the table.
“Well, people get weird about money. You never know,” he said.
“When we get home you’re buying our building and installing a hot tub on the landing, that’s all,” I joked, which earned me a small smile.
We sat and looked at each other, deep in our own thoughts. He’d done so much alone. No wonder he always seemed a little lost to me. Living out of a suitcase, not allowing himself to be tethered to anyone, no real sense of belonging—could it really be that simple? Wallbanger had haremed because he couldn’t stand to lose anyone else? Paging Dr. Freud…
Freudian or no, it made sense. He was attracted to me, had been attracted to me since the beginning. But what was different this time? Clearly he’d been attracted to all the other women as well. Wow, no pressure at all…With a toss of my head, I tried to change the subject.
“I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow. I feel like we just got here.” I leaned forward on my elbows. He smiled, likely noticing my not-so-subtle way of changing the subject. But he seemed grateful.
“So stay. Stay with me. We can spend a few more days here, and then who knows? Where else do you want to go?”
“Pfft. You’ll recall that I’m leaving before you because it’s the only flight I could get. Besides, I have to be back at work, organized, and in the right time zone on Monday. You know how many jobs Jillian has lined up for me?”
“She’ll understand. She’s a sucker for a good romance. Come on. Stay with me. I’ll stash you in the overhead bin for the flight home.” His eyes twinkled over his coffee mug.
“Overhead bin, my foot. And is this what this is? A romance? Shouldn’t you be embracing me on the beach? And ripping my bodice?” I placed my bare legs in his lap, and he took full advantage of this, massaging between his warm hands.
“Lucky for you, I’m a bodice-ripper from way back. I could probably even throw together a pirate costume, if that’s what you’re into,” he replied, the sapphires beginning to smoke.
“It has been quite a romantic tale, hasn’t it? If someone would’ve told me this story, I doubt I’d have believed it,” I mused, groaning as I finished my last bite.
“Why not? It’s not that strange how we met, is it?”
“How many women do you know who would voluntarily go to Europe with a man who’d been banging the plaster right off her walls for weeks?”
“True, but you could also spin me as the guy who played you all those great records through the wall, and the guy who gave you, and I quote, ‘the best meatball ever’?”
