Despite his protests this morning, he’d been happy to get out of the apartment today. He was becoming obsessed with her.
But teaching her how to ice-skate at the Bryant Park rink—while tons of other couples did the same—strolling down Fifth and watching her freak out over each new window display, seeing her sink her teeth into a pastrami sandwich almost as big as her head and listening to her incessant chatter all day, the Scottish burr getting thicker the more excited she got, had been as captivating as watching her come apart in his arms. Not only that, but she’d somehow managed to open his eyes to the magic of Christmas in Manhattan.
What had once seemed like a dumb festive cliché to him had somehow become enchanting after having Eleanor cling to him as she’d slipped and slid across the ice in the majestic shadow of the New York Public Library. And only got worse as the day went on.
Until here he stood, with his arms wrapped around her, watching the afternoon sun settle over the New York skyline on a bridge which—looking at the other people milling about—was a Mecca for lovers, young and old.
He spread his hands over her tummy, and felt her shudder of response, the curve of her bottom pressing enticingly into his crotch. The familiar surge of lust went some way towards dispelling the soporific feeling that had settled over him during the day, threatening him with emotions that couldn’t be real.
Somehow she’d beguiled him, enchanted him, bewitched him into believing in the festive magic of the city... Even though he’d lived here all his life and never seen it before. Or not since he was eight anyway, and his old man had destroyed all his illusions.
She laughed and then sighed. ‘It’s a good thing you can skate or today would have been a wipe out before we’d even started,’ she said. ‘I had no idea it would be so tough.’
‘It’s called balance,’ he murmured, glad she hadn’t tried to take the conversation in a romantic direction. ‘I’m guessing they didn’t have a lot of ice rinks on Moira?’
‘Not one!’ She spun around in his arms, the sparkle in her eyes as beguiling as everything else about her. Not only did he want her all the damn time, but she was surprisingly good company too—her quick wit and easy smiles challenging the comfortable cynicism he’d always relied on to keep his dates at arm’s length.
‘Where did you learn to ice-skate so well?’ she asked.
He chuckled. ‘I’m notthatgreat, you’re just real bad.’
She laughed, the musical sound weaving around him the way it had done so many times in the last few days. ‘Yes, but...’ She dropped her head, toyed with a button on his coat. ‘You must have done a lot more ice-skating than I did when you were a kid.’
‘Nah, there weren’t any ice rinks where I grew up in the Bronx. But they did have a roller-skate park. My mom would give me a couple of bucks to take my brothers and sisters there on weekends to wear them out.’ He hadn’t really intended to give her so much information, but when she looked up her face glowed with pleasure.
‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?’ she asked, sounding so impressed with the possibility he blurted out the truth again.
‘Six—four sisters, two brothers. My folks didn’t bother with birth control. There was a new baby almost every year for years.’Until my old man started going elsewhere for his kicks.‘Even though there was never enough money to feed the ones they already had,’ he finished, only aware of the bitterness that still lingered—years after he thought he’d buried it—when Eleanor’s gaze darkened with concern.
‘I always dreamed of having siblings, but I guess being from a big family can have its problems too.’
‘Yeah.’ He pushed down the echo of guilt, the dark feeling of inadequacy that always clung to him when he thought of his family. The brothers and sisters he’d supported, but ghosted for years. The mother who had never been able to look at him without pain and accusation in her eyes. Didn’t matter, he didn’t need them. His mom had died years ago and he’d paid for the funeral, which he hadn’t attended. His brothers and sisters still sent him birthday and Christmas cards every year, but he knew why. There was no love lost there, no real connection. He’d paid a lot of money once he’d made it to make sure of that. But somehow the sadness in Eleanor’s eyes—the regret on his behalf—brought the heavy feeling in his chest back that he’d ignored for so long.
‘Do they still live in the Bronx?’ she asked.
‘No, they all live in Brooklyn now—last I heard,’ he said evasively. He didn’t want to talk about his family. Or that kid, who had been cut loose from the only place, the only people he had ever known. That kid was long gone. The kid who’d bitten his lip until it bled so he didn’t cry like a baby in the dorm room at Eldridge Prep. The kid who’d wanted his mom’s forgiveness and never got it. The kid who’d yearned to come home. That kid had been a sentimental sap. He liked the loner he’d grown into much better. Driven, smart, successful, rich beyond his wildest dreams, in charge of his own destiny with nothing and no one dragging him down. The guy who didn’t need a family any more because he had himself, and his company and five homes now, instead of one.
‘You don’t speak to them any more?’ she asked, looking so shocked the band around his chest cinched tight.
He shrugged, but the movement felt stiff. ‘We lost touch.’ Not entirely true either. He was still more than happy to employ them in his subsidiary companies, to bankroll their kids’ college funds through a trust he’d set up and buy a whole city block in Brooklyn eight years ago to move them all out of the old neighbourhood, which had been going downhill for years. His only stipulation had been that they respect his privacy. ‘We have nothing in common any more.’
But the words felt hollow and forced. As if he really were the entitled jerk Eleanor had once accused him of being.
‘Doesn’t that make you feel lonely?’ she said. He could hear the wistful tone and hated it.
Even though it shouldn’t matter to him one bit what she thought of him. She was just a distraction—a hot, funny, sweet and surprisingly enchanting distraction. Once Christmas was over, and they’d worn out the chemistry that bound them at the moment, they’d part ways. With no regrets.
He didn’t need her approval any more than he needed the approval of his family now.
He sure as hell didn’t need her pity.
‘I guess it would,’ he said, ‘if I needed family.’ His temper spiked. What was she so sad about anyway? ‘But I don’t.’
‘I see,’ she said, but he was pretty sure she didn’t, because the sadness still lingered in her eyes. ‘That’s remarkably self-sufficient of you,’ she added, but it wasn’t a compliment. Because he could still hear the wistfulness.
He got it, she’d once yearned for a family, for siblings. Living such a secluded life with two older parents in the middle of nowhere must have been really tough for an extrovert like her, a girl who could converse with ex-Presidents and Hollywood stars with a refreshing lack of pretension. For a people person like Eleanor, it would have been agony to grow up in such an isolated place. It made sense.
But not for him.