‘Why are you veggie?’
‘My mom, mainly.’
‘She doesn’t eat meat?’
‘Yeah—well, she doesn’t eat anything,’ he says, and then covers the admission with a smiling shake of his head. ‘She prefers to get her nutrients in the form of fermented potatoes and juniper berries.’
It takes a second for his meaning to sink in. Vodka and gin. ‘She’s an alcoholic?’
‘She drinks to excess,’ he says, frowning. ‘And she goes to rehab when she wants to dry out. Yeah, I guess you could say she’s a high-functioning alcoholic.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say seriously, taking another bite. ‘That must be hard on you.’
‘Yeah, mostly because she’s just hard work.’ He shrugs his shoulders. ‘And she’s alone, so I feel kind of responsible for her.’
‘You’ve got brothers though, right?’
‘Two, yeah. But they’re on my dad’s side.’ He hesitates a little, then shrugs. ‘They’re pretty good with my mom, but they’re not going to drop everything if she needs to get her stomach pumped.’
‘And you do?’ I murmur sympathetically, wondering at the urge I have to stand up and go and sit in his lap, to be closer to him.
‘From time to time.’
I’m sorry for him, for that kind of worry. My parents might wish that I’d play it safe, that I’d be less aspirational and more content with a sensible job and quiet life, but they’re still my parents—and they’ve never once made me feel like I had to parent them; they’ve never given me a day of worry.
‘She’s got staff. Housekeepers, a chef, t
ennis coach; it’s not like I’m the only person who’s going to be able to help her. She lives in LA, so I’m not even within easy reach of her.’
‘But you’re her only family.’
He nods, polishing off his burger in record time then reaching for a soda can. He has to lean past me to get it and spontaneously I reach up, bunching his shirt in my hands and kissing him.
I like kissing him. I smile against his lips then ease back into my seat.
‘So, real estate, huh?’
I nod.
‘How’d you get into that?’
I tilt my head to the side a little, thinking back. ‘Partly happenstance, I guess. I studied business at university. One of my lecturers offered me an internship at his commercial property firm. Turns out I had a knack for it.’
‘So you went out on your own?’
I nod. ‘I met Gareth. He was the romantic—obsessed with the idea of matchmaking people to places, the beauty of forging connections.’ I can’t help the roll of my eyes.
Jagger laughs softly. ‘That’s not your view of it?’
‘God, no. I can see the commercial value in buying and selling, in matching the right investor with the right property. Most of my clients want to make money, to see a return for their investment. I like to find them properties that will meet those needs—and, of course, to find investors who have the means to buy the properties I list.’ I shrug. ‘It’s more a mathematical equation for me than a notion of matchmaking.’
I take a bite of my burger, chewing thoughtfully. ‘But Gareth’s vision helps with the marketing side. We were a good team.’
‘Were?’ His eyes narrow speculatively. ‘I thought you still worked together? I’m sure I’ve been dealing with him on email.’
‘Yeah.’ I swallow, looking away. ‘But not for long. I plan to buy him out if I can.’ I look away, my gaze focusing on the modern abstract art on the white wall opposite, not telling him that this sale is one of the key ways I’m going to achieve that.
Gareth’s married now.