He chuckles and adjusts his suit jacket. “Do you think a man in my tax bracket would download a dating app?” He shudders like it’s beneath him. I just shake my head and wave him off.
“Good luck with that loser.”
I head for my bike, swing my leg over the seat and tug my gloves on, but pause before I turn the engine over.
“Hey, Roman!” I shout at my cousin’s retreating back.
He’s halfway into some sleek town car that pulled up to the curb, the kind that probably costs more per month than all my bills combined. My money’s on that being one of the chauffeurs he pays to trail him around the city so that he doesn’t have to suffer the indignity of using normal transportation like the rest of us civilians.
He turns around.
“You said you never dated anyone serious before,” I call out. “What was the name of your high school girlfriend? The really pretty one who broke your heart when she wrote that article about you?”
He lifts both middle fingers without missing a beat and flips me off before ducking into the car.
I tip my head back into the cold February air and let out abooming laugh.
“Fuck you too, Gabriel!” he shouts through the rolled down window as the car pulls away from the curb. But there’s no real bite in his tone. Doesn’t matter that to half of Manhattan and Miami my cousin is some intimidating real estate billionaire. To me, he’s just a billionaire asshole who happens to be family.
My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. I pull it out, check the caller ID and about drop it on to the sidewalk.
Why the hell is my ex-wife calling me right now?
I take a slow breath and let it out while it continues to ring in my palm. It’s been ten years since our divorce. Sure, it wasn’t amicable, but it wasn’t some explosive disaster either.
There were no kids, no house, barely any assets to split. Just two people with no money to our names, walking away from something that was dead the moment she told me she wanted me to abandon my ten-year-old sister who’d just lost both of her parents and move across the country, or she’d leave me. It was her or my family, and I couldn’t have both.
We haven’t spoken since. I never wanted to be friends. Never wanted to catch up. To be fair, we really weren’t friends before anyway. I never had anything more to say to her when the ink dried. So why the hell is she calling me now?
I swipe up just as my bike rumbles to life beneath me, the familiar vibration of the engine grounds me especially when I need to clear my head. The weight of the machine, the grip of my hands around the bars. It’s all steady and solid. A reminder that the past is behind me. That I don’t live there anymore.
“Hello?” I say when I answer.
“Hey, Gabriel. Oh wow… I’m so glad this is still your number,” she gushes in an overly friendly voice like we’ve kept in touch.
I don’t reply. Just let the silence stretch because hearing her voice does nothing for me anymore. I remember a time whenher phone calls and texts used to light me up inside. Now, I feel nothing when I think of her. It’s been that way for ten years so what does she want?
She exhales, like she expected this conversation to be easier. “O-Okay…” She clears her throat like she’s nervous. “So, Matt and I just bought a house in Brookhaven.”
She says her husband’s name like it should mean something to me. Yeah, it’s a small town. Against my will, I was informed that she got remarried a few years ago to some new guy, but I couldn’t tell you when because it was insignificant to me and as soon as I heard it, I’d forgotten. And if she hadn’t just said her husband’s name, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what it was.
“Congratulations,” I say in my most bored voice.
She laughs, light and airy. A sound I once would’ve killed to hear again. Now, it doesn’t even register because all I’m thinking about is Alessia and what Roman said and the fact that I might have to let her date other idiots so that she can see I’m the man she really wants.
“Thanks!” Amber acts like I told her I’d send her a letter and flowers. “Anyway, we need some contracting work done on the new place, and I heard you’re the best in Brookhaven. It’s just a small renovation to our downstairs bathroom.”
I flex my fingers against the throttle. “I’m too busy right now.”
“Please, Gabriel,” she presses, voice softening just enough to be strategic. “I know your work is immaculate. I appreciate your attention to the details, and I like your style. I don’t want to use anyone else. You and I both know there’s no one better than you when it comes to renovations.”
I roll my shoulders, my grip tightening as I lift my heels, ready to take off.
A part of me wants to tell her no. Wants to remind her that she gave up the right to ask me for anything a decade ago. Butbusiness is business, and I could always use the extra money to put back into myactualnew business until it takes off and we start renting these units.
Yes, Roman’s a billionaire, but he’s been a real dick about the New York City project since I told him that technically I’m the CEO and it’s my company and not under his Miami umbrella of real-estate projects. Which means he’s been less hands on to allow me to take the lead. It also means that when we do start to make a profit, and we will eventually, the less that Roman’s invested the better.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll come by, take a look, and give you a quote. But I’m stretched thin right now. If it’s not small, you’ll have to work around my schedule which means it might take me months to finish.”
