I considered the question. “They genuinely like each other. They’re best friends first, partners second. And they never go to bed angry. That’s their big rule.”
“Never?”
“Never,” I confirmed. “My dad says life’s too short to waste it being mad at the person you love most in the world.”
“Wise man,” Callan said softly. “My parents could have used that advice. They specialized in multi-day silent treatments. The record was two weeks over a misplaced cufflink. Two entire weeks of frosty silence in a house so big they could literally avoid each other for days.”
“And that’s why you’re so skeptical about marriage?” I asked, venturing into territory we usually avoided.
He was quiet for a moment. “Probably part of it. Hard to believe in something you’ve never really seen work.”
“Same thing happened with your grandmother and grandfather, right?”
“My grandfather wasn’t exactly a stand-up guy. Gram’s amazing, but she ended up alone anyway.”
“And that’s why you think it’s all pointless?” I couldn’t keep the challenge from my voice. “Love, I mean.”
He turned to face me fully. “I think it’s a gamble. And I’m not convinced the potential payoff justifies the risk.”
“Hence the arrangement. All the benefits, none of the messy emotions.”
“Exactly.” But he didn’t sound as convinced as he usually did.
“And what if you’re wrong?” I asked. “What if there’s more to it than you think? What if love does exist?”
A shadow crossed his face. “Then I’ll have missed out. But at least I won’t have been hurt.” He dropped his gaze down to his book before meeting mine. “I don’t think I could handle that. At least not well.”
“For what it’s worth,” I said carefully, “I think you’re selling yourself short.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“You’ve made yourself an image of a billionaire playboy, but I see through it. You care about people. You have an incredibly adorable relationship with the strong woman who all but raised you. You left a date to help me with a wedding crisis. Youbrought me here to make sure I got a break. Those aren’t the actions of someone incapable of genuine connection. You’re not just some rich fuckboy.”
He studied me for a long moment. “Or maybe I’m letting you see all of that because the smirks and cash don’t work with you, and it’s a more efficient way of seeing what you’re hiding beneath that coverup,” he suggested, but there was no conviction behind it.
“Uh huh. Sure,” I said, though I didn’t believe it. “Or maybe you’re just a decent human being who happens to be obscenely wealthy and irritatingly attractive.”
That made him laugh. “Irritatingly attractive, huh? Do tell me more about how my attractiveness irritates you. Is it the abs? The jawline? The rakish smile? I need specifics for my ego.”
And just like that, we were back on safer ground. The moment of vulnerability passed, replaced by our usual banter.
“It’s distracting,” I said, playfully flicking sand at him. “How am I supposed to maintain professional composure when you’re walking around looking like that?” I gestured vaguely at his physique.
“It’s a curse. Being this handsome is actually a burden. It’s like being a beautiful piece of art that no one bothers to read the little plaque next to.” He sighed dramatically.
“Oh, poor baby,” I mocked. “Life must be so hard for you.”
“It is,” he insisted. “Do you know how difficult it is to find shirts that fit both my broad shoulders and my narrow waist? It’s a constant struggle. Sometimes I have to settle for shirts that only make me look like a 9.5 instead of a perfect 10. It’s truly a tragedy.”
I laughed, rolling my eyes. “I’m playing the world’s tiniest violin for you right now. The saddest song ever composed specifically for the billionaire who can’t find shirts to properly showcase his perfect body.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar fashion; relaxed conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at ease with another person besides Mari.
As the sun began to set, Callan suggested we head back to the villa for dinner. “Rhonda’s making her famous seafood paella,” he explained. “Trust me, you don’t want to miss it.”
“I should probably change first,” I said, suddenly self-conscious about dining in my swimwear.
“No need to get fancy. Island rules. Anything goes.”
