“No,” Nathan snapped at the same time Beau said yes.
Beau rolled his eyes. “Nathan likes to think he doesn’t need us but it’s not true. He’s a Cove even if his CV says otherwise.”
“His CV?” What did his resume have to do with his last name?
“He’s being an idiot,” Nathan said. “Aren’t you supposed to be responsible? In charge of people’s lives and all that?”
“Relax,” Beau said and then turned to me. “He’s a worrier. You should put that in your article.”
“Worrier” wasn’t the first thing that sprang to mind when I thought about Nathan. Handsome. Sexy. Successful. Check, check, check. Beau was making him out to be some kind of anxious mother hen. There was a surprising difference between the Nathan I’d seen in the boardroom and the man his brother described.
“You like to get together as a family?” I asked, wondering if their gatherings were the kind that included people from outside the family. People like me, for example.
“Yes,” Beau and Nathan both chorused. Well at least they agreed on that.
“Family’s important,” Nathan said.
“Plus, mum is the best cook,” Beau added. “Even if I hated this guy, I’d still make it back home as often as possible to eat mum’s Sunday roast.”
“I’m going to see if she’ll make me a lasagna to take home and freeze,” Nathan said, like he wasn’t a guy who could have the best Italian in London delivered to his house by black cab whenever he wanted it.
“Don’t be selfish and just ask for yourself. Make sure I get one too,” Beau said.
We’d been out of the office less than half an hour and I’d learned more about Nathan in that time than I had in all our meetings this week. Apparently, he was a man who loved his mum, had four brothers, and made time for his family. This Nathan was very different from the micromanaging, super-focused partier that I’d met so far. Who Nathan was professionally versus who he was with his family could be the article hook I was looking for.
“And you can’t ask mum for yourself? Didn’t we just celebrate your thirtieth birthday or did I make a mistake by twenty years.”
“Mum will say yes to you,” Beau said.
“That’s because I’m nice to her.”
“That’s because you’re a suck-up. But then again, I guess you’re still having to make it up to her.” Beau turned to me grinning like the cat who got the cream. “Nathan’s the black sheep of the family. A constant disappointment.”
Beau was clearly joking, but the tightness of Nathan’s jaw told me the remark hit a sore spot. He glanced up the corridor as if searching for an exit, as if standing talking to his brother was exactly the last thing he wanted to do. Interesting . . .
“Aren’t you meant to be somewhere?” Nathan asked. “I thought you worked here, or do you just stalk the corridors waiting for donors to accost and insult?” Nathan turned to me. “We’re expected on the children’s ward. They have a photographer waiting for us.”
“He pretends he doesn’t like the attention but you’ll figure out that he’s all about the spotlight. That’s why you didn’t end up in the family business—”
“We have to go,” Nathan interrupted, just as things were getting juicy. He stalked down the corridor, leaving me wondering whether it was rude to ditch Nathan and question Beau about his brother, and why it was that Nathan hadn’t ended up in the family business, whatever that was.
I scrambled to keep up but didn’t mention his brother’s comments. I’d learned that Nathan easily shut down and I didn’t want that to happen. Craig was ready to swoop in and steal this profile from me at any moment, but I could make that harder for him by solidifying a personal bond with our subject. I wanted Nathan relaxed. The kind of relaxed he might be sitting around a table with his brothers, eating his mother’s Sunday roast. The kind of relaxed that might finally loosen those lips, and hand me the story I so desperately needed. What I needed was an invitation to the impending family reunion.
Fourteen
Nathan
I never realized something so small as a button could become the biggest annoyance in my life—at least not until Madison donned her pink shirt. The third button down kept working itself loose. Despite the fact I wasn’t fourteen and knew very well I shouldn’t stare at women’s breasts—especially not women who held my career in their hands—Madison’s were like water in the middle of a desert. And I was dying of thirst.
We’d agreed to put Saturday night behind us, to pretend it had never happened. And if it hadn’t been for that tricksy little button, I probably could have.
“Nathan?” Madison asked.
“What?” I said, irritated by my lack of self-discipline. I logged off my computer. It was gone eight and as long as I was in the office, Madison was here with me.