“It will be my business if I’m living there with you.”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
I swallow hard and mentally slap myself. It’s not like I have a bunch of other options. Truth is, I have no clue how to buy a place, what steps to take, who to talk to.
Come to think of it, staying with him might actually be useful. I’ll learn how to run a household, how much to spend on groceries . . . basic things that any normal twenty-year-old would know—if they hadn’t been raised inside a bubble.
“All right. No more talking about your girlfriends. Although, for the record, I don’t get why you’d date someone you can’t even bring home.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion. Now listen: I’ll let you come stay with me—but my house, my rules. Just because you’re legally an adult doesn’t mean you can’t still get hurt. The world out here isn’t anything like your precious convent.”
“I haven’t been in a convent school in three years,” I point out.
“And what have you learned about life since then?”
“You know the answer. I went from one prison to another.”
“Which is exactly why I worry. I get that you need to start taking control of your life. Just don’t rush it. There’s no need.”
“I’ll try not to push too hard, but I really need you to trust me. I have to start somewhere, or I’ll never learn how to stand on my own.”
“Okay. I’ll help you through this new phase. But I’m not changing my mind—you’ll stay with me for now. Get used to going out, shopping, managing your bills. Then I’ll feel better about letting you go off on your own.”
“You think that’ll work? You live with Amos. And he didn’t seem very thrilled to meet me at Christmas.”
“It’s not personal—Amos isn’t thrilled to meet anyone. But that won’t be a problem. I’ll talk to him. When are you planning to come?”
“I . . . well . . . I already bought the ticket. I’ll be there in a few days.”
“Confident, huh?” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Ah, shit.”
“Hey, language. That’s vulgar.”
“Sorry, mademoiselle. Didn’t mean to offend your fancy Franco-Swiss sensibilities. It’s just . . . I’m flying out in seventy-two hours tops for work. I’ll be gone at least a month.”
“Oh . . .”
“Relax. It’ll be fine. Come anyway. Amos might not be the most social guy in the world, but he’s like a brother to me—and once he gets to know you, he’ll be one to you too.”
I doubt that.
“Besides, he can look after you while I’m gone.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Pick your battles, Lilly.”
“Fine. But please don’t make him look after me. I already feel awkward enough about staying there. I don’t need your friend hating me on top of it.”
“No one could hate you. You’re the sweetest girl in the world.”
“I’m not a girl anymore. I’m a grown woman, brother. It’s about time you accepted that.”
“Nope. You’ll always be my Pumpkin—even when you’re old and wrinkly.”
“I’ve got a long way to go before I hit the wrinkle phase, thank you very much,” I say, dryly, and he laughs. “It’s not funny. You want me to go straight from baby to granny. I plan to enjoy at least sixty years between those two stages.”
“Enjoy them wisely.”
