“Who taught you how to cook?”
“The housekeeper when I was growing up. She wasn’t supposed to, but I was a lonely kid who hung out while she was cooking. Eventually, she let me start helping.”
“So you grew up rich.”
“The Valentine Group was created by my grandfather, fostered by my father, and passed to me after his passing.”
Maybe it was silly, but I felt some of the tension leaving my shoulders with each new nugget of information I was getting about him.
“Was your mother a businesswoman?”
“My mother died when I was three. Car crash.”
“I’m sorry.” My heart ached for him. Coming from a family of so many amazing moms, I couldn’t imagine having no mother figure growing up.
Harrison turned his attention to chopping up something green. His tone was a little more guarded when he spoke again. “I was raised by a nanny until I was eight. Then it was just the housekeeper at home most of the time.”
“Your father wasn’t around?”
“No.”
“Did you grow up here in the city?”
“No. I grew up in New Jersey mostly.”
“No way,” I said, eyeing him again.
I mean, it made sense. I’d hopped on a train into the city to come see him. Depending on where you lived in Jersey, you were only an hour or hour and a half away by train, ferry, or car.
“Wait… did we know each other growing up?” I asked, thinking that might make more sense for why he was so intent on staying married. “Did we go to school together?”
Though even as I asked it, it seemed unlikely. I’d gone to public school. Someone like a Valentine, coming from generational wealth, would have gone to one of the many prestigious private schools.
“No. I’m a few years older than you, sweetheart,” he said.
We were going to go ahead and pretend that pet name didn’t make my belly flutter.
“Did we hang out? Go to the same parties?”
“No. I never met you before Vegas.”
I opened my mouth, about to start in on the annulment, on his stubbornness about dissolving this so-called ‘relationship.’
But he interrupted me.
“Do you want to give yourself a tour?” he asked. “I have another half an hour or so before dinner is ready.”
Maybe some space was what I needed. Being pushy hadn’t worked with him so far. I needed to calm myself down.
“Okay,” I agreed, dropping my bag, then turning to walk down the hallway.
There was a study full of built-ins, the shelves full of books.
Did he read them?
Were they just décor?
Beyond the study were two guest rooms, all meticulously decorated but devoid of any personal details.
