“Like how you’re raising Isabelle?”
“No, my life probably seems awful to you,” she says. “I meant somewhere more in between. Notbroke, but not disconnected either.”
“Your life in no way seems awful to me. You have Izzy and your aunt, who would do anything for either of you,” he says. “And my entire family isn’t disconnected. My mother tries when she’s not too busy getting spa treatments. My brother Pierce and I get on quite well, for the most part.”
“Oh, well that’s good at least.”
“Take what you can get, right?” He deftly lifts his roasting stick away from the fire and pulls a bun out of the bag on the log next to him.
Realizing I’m burning the bottom side of my wiener, I remove it from the fire, and Leo quickly gets a bun out for me and uses it to remove my wiener from the stick.
“Hmm. That’s a little charred. Why don’t we switch dogs?”
“That’s very kind of you, but I don’t mind it a little black.”
“Ah! Improv rules,” he says, holding his perfectly cooked hot dog out to me.
My shoulders drop, and we swap, me feeling guilty to be letting him eat food I’ve ruined. After adding ketchup and mayo, I take my first bite. “Mmm, that’s like heaven in a bun.”
“Yup. Who needs money when you can roast hot dogs in paradise for practically nothing?”
“Everyone,” I mutter.
Leo stares at me for a second. “Good point. But wouldn’t it be nice if one could have an amazing life without it?”
“Like if you lived on a deserted island with a comfortable house and a huge garden with everything you need to eat, and you could make each day what you wanted without having to worry about how to pay your next electricity bill or if you have enough money in your account to buy your daughter that princess castle fairy tent she wants for her birthday…”
“And there were no wankers always one-upping each other about who’s got a faster jet or who went on the most exclusive vacation over Christmas…” His voice trails off, and he gives me a sheepish expression. “My examples are crap, really. You’re much better at finding things to escape from than I am.”
“Okay, that’s true.”
“Poor little rich boy. Whine, whine, whine.” He rolls his eyes.
We eat in silence for a minute, then I say, “Can I ask you something?”
“I have to say yes.”
Grinning, I say, “I’m starting to like your rule.”
“And I have a feeling I’m about to regret it,” he says, tossing his napkin in the fire.
“What are you doing here? Not here on this beach, but here on this island, working as a bellboy and living in a shed? You clearly have more than enough money to live somewhere much better.”
“On the contrary, myparentshave a lot of money. I have nothing,” he answers. “And my father has decided he’s tired of supporting his ne’er-do-well son.”
“But surely you could get a better job? You went to university.”
“There are surprisingly few jobs in alchemy these days.”
“Alchemy?” I ask, my eyes popping open.
“That was my minor.”
“As in the study of how to transform metals into pure gold?”
Giving one big nod, he says, “Let’s not forget the quest for the elixir of eternal life.”
Tucking my lips between my teeth, I try not to laugh. “What made you want to spend four years of your life studying an ancient, already-proven-to-be-bollocks subject?”
