“Who isn’t?” I ask, turning back to the show.
“I suppose you could call that chef of yours unpredictable,” he says after a minute.
“Just a sec,” I say, feigning excitement. “Let me go get the nail polish and some sheet masks.” Folding my arms and leaning back, I drop the enthusiasm from my voice. “I don’t need some heart-to-heart pep talk, Leo, so let it go already.”
“You’re a miserable git, you know that?” he asks, punching me on the arm.
“If you don’t like it, leave,” I say. “In fact, even if youdolike it, please leave anyway. You’re like Marvin K. Mooney—unable to take a bloody hint.”
Shaking his head, Leo says, “Everyone thinks you’re the smart one, but when it comes to love, you’re a complete imbecile.”
“Have you been talking to Emma or something?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “She said exactly the same thing. Well, not exactly, but basically…and you know what?” I say, pointing an unsteady finger at him. “You’re both full of shit. I offered herthe worldand she said ‘no thanks.’ I handed her the best restaurant in all of Avonia on a silver platter. Not the second best. Not third. Not some shit start-up nobody’s heard of. The best fucking one. And she said ‘no.’”
I stand, needing to move while I rant. “Noto all of it. Instead of being grateful and living happily ever after with me, she called me a controlling arsehole…except she didn’t use the word arsehole. But she did say controlling which Iam not. I just thought maybe she’d appreciate having someone give her everything she’s ever dreamed of. I thought maybe she’d want to be with me…but she doesn’t. Soscrew her. If she wants to live on some shit boat and be a servant for the rest of her life, she can do that. I don’t care.”
Spinning back toward the telly, I see Cillian Murphy on the screen looking rather put out about something as usual.
“Thomas Shelby doesn’t need a woman to make him happy. Smart man right there.”
“Pierce, can I ask you something and get an honest answer?”
“Probably not,” I say, wavering a little on my feet.
“Why did you become a writer?”
“Because I ran out of good things to read,” I say, shrugging.
“That’s not true. When you finished your first book, I asked you that question and you said, ‘Because fictional characters don’t disappoint you like the people you meet in real life.’”
“Yes, well, so fucking what? We had a fucked-up childhood, in case you didn’t notice. It’s not like our parents were people we could ever really count on. Turns out the rest of the world is just like them, Emma included.” I sigh heavily, then drop onto the oversized ottoman, spilling a stack of books onto the floor. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m too damaged to be able to love someone properly.”
“Maybe,” Leo says thoughtfully.
“Thanks for that,” I say sarcastically. The lead ball in my stomach seems much heavier now and I desperately want to get rid of it. “There’s no such thing as love, by the way. You must know that.”
“No, I don’t know it,” he answers, sounding utterly sure of himself. “I don’t think we’ve had a good example of how to do it properly, but I do know couples who seem to have it right.”
“Name one.” This should be good.
His face lights up. “Zach and Kennedy.”
“Don’t even. Of all the harpies in the world, Kennedy’s their leader,” I scoff.
“Maybe to you, but to Zach, she’s everything. They both want to make the other person happy, even if it means giving up something they really want,” Leo says. “He takes those stupid dance classes because it makes her happy. He’d much rather be at home watching the telly than doing a foxtrot with a bunch of seniors every Tuesday night, but he goes anyway. And do you really think she wants to go to the Ashes every couple of years and spend an entire week watching cricket with him? She doesn’t even like cricket. She’d much rather be off shopping and eating at the best restaurants in Paris or New York, but they don’t have the money for it, so she ends up drinking beer and eating meat pies with him all day in the stands. And she doesn’t even complain. She just makes the best of it because he loves it so much.”
“Ah, so love is an unending series of doing shit you don’t want to so the other person will have sex with you again,” I say. “Good thing I got out of it then.”
“That’s not what I said. Love is doing shit you don’t want to do just to see the look in her eyes,” he says. “Or so it seems. I haven’t found the girl I’d give up my life for yet. But when I do, I’m not going to let her get away. I can tell you that.”
“Well, take it from your big brother, don’t bother. I tried to give her what she wanted, but believe me, Emma did not have that look.”
Leo screws up his face looking skeptical. “Did you really? I know you’re have a blast being a martyr and all, but the truth is, you did something you thought would guarantee you’d get whatyouwant.”
“You think I want to own a bloody restaurant?” I ask, feeling a sense of righteous indignation nudge out my heartburn.
“I think you wanted to find a way to fit her neatly into your life without you having to give up anything you care about. The money was nothing for you to spend—a drop in your enormous bucket of cash. Totally worth it if it meant you didn’t have to change anything about your life other than making room for her toothbrush in your cabinet.”
I start to protest, but he cuts me off.
