“Do you want to walk along the beach for a bit?” I asked.
Instead of answering, he turned toward the stretch of beach that took us farther away from the house. There were people around—jogging, strolling with dogs or kids, or both. It was chilly, and I wrapped my arms around myself.
“You know, I talked so much about myself yesterday, and I know near nothing about you,” I said after a long moment of silently strolling.
“What do you want to know?” He looked at me.
“Were you ever married?”
He scoffed and moved his gaze to the ocean to his right. “No.”
I had more questions about that topic but decided to defer them. “Do you manage your dad’s businesses?”
“I sold everything he had and reinvested the money in a completely different model.”
“Do you have other family? Your aunt in Sweden? Your mom’s in Spain?”
“Gave my aunt some of the money, but we’re not really in touch.”
“And your mom’s family?” I always wondered about that. My mother had told me everything she knew, but it wasn’t much.
“I don’t know my mother’s family. They’re in Spain.” He seemed deeply pensive before adding, “Over the years, I asked myself what kind of a woman she was to marry someone like him.” With that, he gave me a pointed look and added, “No one should be with someone likehim.”
I realized he had never called or referred to Alfred as “Dad,” only as “my father” or “him.”
“Wasn’t she much younger than him? That’s what my mom said,” I tried to defend the woman I had never met.
“She was.”
“I noticed your tattoo.”
He whipped his head toward me but averted his gaze after a moment. “It’s the idea of her, not really her. I didn’t know her or much about her,” he admitted reluctantly. “It’s for everything that is … out of reach.”
Did he know thathewas out of reach, a distant moon that even after years felt like a piece of me?
The cry of the seagulls, the breaking of the waves, and people’s voices carried by the breeze were the only sounds that penetrated our silence until I managed to ask, “Were you ever in a serious relationship?” I brushed back the curls that the wind blew into my face.
“I don’t think you can call what I had ‘relationships.’”
A sudden twist in my solar plexus surprised me. I was disappointed to realize I was actually jealous, thinking of Oliver with other women in whatever capacity.
The sand crunched under our sneakers. “What about friends?” I asked.
“Had a few in London and New York. Now I mostly have business associates. The older I grow, the less in common I have with most of them besides business. I got tired of christenings and rejecting kids’ birthday party invitations. How many parties do kids need?”
I laughed. “Somany.” One thing I loved about having twins was that they celebrated together—one cake, one party, money saved.
“How about you?” Oliver asked.
“What do you mean?” Despite the breeze, I was suddenly hot in my hoodie. I took it off and tied it around my waist, remaining in a blue tank top.
“Did you have any serious relationships after Jamie?”
“I hardly had time to date. I mean, at first, the kids were small, then I never found anyone worth introducing them to.” I chuckled and added, “The few I dated I met at the home.”
Oliver gave me a quizzical look.
“They weren’t residents!” I laughed and gave his arm a little shove with my elbow. “They were visitors!”
