My mother taught me everything I needed to know about rich men. When she was younger, she’d married a multimillionaire. After their divorce she worked as a receptionist at a pediatrician’s clinic, which eventually led to her meeting my father, who was a FedEx worker. But during her first marriage, my mother told me, money became more important than people, relationships, and happiness. She told me about the long hours her ex-husband worked at the office, which led to his numerous affairs. She told me about how his assistants purchased anniversary, Valentine’s, and other holiday gifts. I won’t forget her tears and the pain in her eyes I saw that day she opened up about her life with her ex-husband.
It’s hard for me to put any value on money now knowing it can be easily used for the wrong. “On top of being rich, you know what that type of guy is like.”
“Yeah, I do,” she whispers.
Right after we graduated from high school, Taylor and my half-brother secretly dated. Although I knew about the relationship and had given them my blessing, he wanted things to stay on the down-low. My big bro had begun to build his empire, and Taylor had been only nineteen at the time, while he had been twenty-nine. But their relationship only confirmed to me why I don’t want what they had. Ever. Because, in the end, my half-brother repeated the same mistakes his father had.
He worked all day and all night to make his billions, never seeing Taylor. When she finally confronted him, he broke up with her. The relationship had been short, intense, and in the end, it ruined them both. The last happy day they’d had together was the last day I had seen either of them happy.
Which reminds me every day why I’m proud that when my half-brother handed me a rich life on a platter I’d been smart enough at fifteen years old to decline it. Yes, I had a trust fund. But I never touched a cent of that money. “So while I’m tempted…”—and oh, boy, does Micah tempt me—“this can’t lead anywhere good.”
“But maybe he’s different than…” She gives a small smile and adds, “Micah’s already built his empire, so maybe things are different for him. Like, maybe he wants to do the whole normal life thing now.”
“I’ve never
met a single guy who seeks power and a quiet life.” No, all the guys I met growing up were spoiled pricks trying to get richer than the guy next to them. They hungered for power.
“It’s true. They don’t really seem to go hand in hand,” Taylor agrees, squinting her eyes, finally shrugging. “But Micah does have one thing going for him. From what I’ve read, he has a charity that helps children whose parent or parents have died. They send kids to summer camps and Disney World—things like that.”
I absorb that particular news. “Okay, so he might have a sweet side.”
My mind oddly returns to when he touched me in the restaurant, and my hot reaction to that touch, making saying yes seem far too easy. I don’t have it all figured out yet, but it’s almost as if part of me trusts him and another part of me doesn’t. Right now I’m listening to the part that doesn’t. I rub my eyes, suddenly feeling tired. “God, Taylor, this guy is so…”
“Sexy?”
I laugh, dropping my hands. “Yes, that. But there’s more…it’s like he’s…” I eventually sigh and shake my head. “Unforgettable. Dark. Dangerous. Magnetizing. I don’t even know how to explain it. He has this way about him that draws you right in.”
“So what are you going to do?” she asks, simply.
“What I always do,” I say with a shrug. “Keep my head down and work hard.”
She smiles. “And try to remind yourself that you don’t want a certain hot hunk in a bad way.”
I snort a laugh. “Yep, that’s the plan.”
“Gosh…” Taylor’s posture stoops, her voice small. “New job. New hottie. Life is so exciting for you. I really miss being there to experience it together.”
My heart clenches, twists and turns. When Taylor hurts, I hurt. It’s really that simple. I want her here, with me. I know it’s selfish, but I want to be around her lovable personality and watch chick flicks in our pajamas like we used to, eating as much junk food as humanly possible. It really sucks that life has a way of reminding you that you can’t always get what you want. “I miss you like crazy, too. How are things in San Diego?”
“Oh, well…” Her lids lower. “I think Shawn is cheating on me.”
Shawn’s this guy she’s been seeing for about a year now. I’ve only met him once, when I visited her last spring. I wasn’t a fan then. I’m definitely a hater now. “Do you realize how calmly you said that?”
“Yeah, I do.” She gives a soft nod, looking so much more tired—no, broken down—than I ever remember her being. “To be honest,” she adds, “I’m sure he knows that I know, and he doesn’t seem to care.”
“What a fucking asshole!” My fingers tighten around my iPad. I don’t understand why Taylor stays with Shawn. Or, really, why she dates any of the idiots she does. She can do so much better.
Her eyes are dark with despair, her skin ashen from too many past hurts. I want to reach through the screen and hug her so badly. I’ve grown used to seeing that sadness over the past five years grow a little bit more every single day—desolation that hadn’t been there when she lived in San Francisco with me.
“Please come home, Taylor,” I plead with her. “If he’s being such a fuck-face, why stay there?” Taylor had originally moved to be with another guy, who ended up going to jail for check fraud, which shocked the hell out of the both of us. He didn’t have the criminal vibe about him. “San Diego has nothing to offer you anymore. And I’m here, waiting for you to come home.”
“But this is my home now.” Taylor’s lip quivers, her shoulders curl. “I do love Shawn. It’s not that easy to just pick up and leave.”
Oh, hell yes, it is that easy!
My heart sinks into my stomach and I’m fighting back tears. God, I’m not sure when love got so confusing for Taylor. But how Shawn treats her isn’t love. It’s something else entirely. Something I wish I could protect her from. Something that makes me so angry at her and my half-brother. They both punish themselves by staying apart and I have no damn idea why.
I want to lecture her now. But she doesn’t need that from me, so I repeat the question she asked me earlier. “So, what are you going to do?”