There was another fireplace, with cheerful flames snapping, as well as a small, glossy bar and a second television with an entire cabinet devoted to various components.
“Gosh. This is Simon Michael McCourts personal version of heaven.”
“My dad loves toys. We spent a lot of time in here.”
“I bet.” She stepped up behind her son. “Simon. We have to go.”
“Not yet, not yet.” His face was fierce with concentration. “This is Grand Theft Auto Three! Im really close, really close to having them call out the National Guard. Tanks and everything! Im kicking Swat Team butt. I could set a record. Ten more minutes.”
“Simon. Mr. Vane needs his house back.”
“Mr. Vane is fine with this,” Brad corrected.
“Please, Mom. Please. Tanks.”
She wavered. She saw more than the heat of competition on his face as he stared at the screen. She saw joy.
Someone died on-screen with a great dea
l of splashing blood, and from the delighted cackle she figured it wasnt Simon.
“Its a little violent,” Brad realized and winced. “If you dont want him playing this sort of thing—”
“Simon knows the difference between reality and video games.”
“Right. Good. Why dont we go have that coffee?” Brad suggested. “A few more minutes cant hurt.”
“All right. Ten minutes, Simon.”
“Okay, Mom, thanks, Mom. Im going to do it,” he mumbled, already back in the groove. “Im going to do it.”
“Its nice of you to let him play with your things,”Zoe began as they left Simon to the battle. “He talked about being out here before for days.”
“Hes a great kid. Fun to be around.”
“I certainly think so.”
She found herself in the kitchen with him—another spacious, stunning room. This one done in bright, cheerful white and toasty yellows that would make it seem sunny even on a gloomy day.
She coveted the acres of counter space, the forest of cupboards, some with gorgeous seeded glass. She admired the sleek appliances that had to make cooking a creative joy rather than a mundane chore.
Then it occurred to her that she was, once again, alone with him.
“You know, I should just go back with Simon, and let you… do whatever. Well be out of your way quicker.”
He finished measuring out coffee before he turned to her. “Why do you think I want you out of my way?”
“Im sure you have things to do.”
“Not so much.”
“Well, I do. A million things. I should really be ready to pry Simon away before he loses control and starts another game. Ill just go get him, and well let ourselves out.”
“I dont get it.” Forgetting the coffee, Brad stepped closer to her. “I really dont get it.”
“What?”
“Youre comfortable enough with Flynn and Jordan to flirt with them, but two minutes with me and youre not only blowing cold, youre halfway out the door.”