Page 61 of With You

“Can I help?” he says, an earnest look on his face as one corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. River reaches out to grab a loose strand, twirling it between his fingers as he waits for my response.

“That would be nice,” I answer, shifting on the bed so my back is to him.

I pull the loose hair forward over my shoulder, leaving just the braids behind. River takes hold of one, working his way up as he untangles the strands, fingers moving deftly as if he’s done this a million times before.

“I used to help my mom at shows,” he explains without me asking. “They used to do all sorts to her hair, especially during fashion week. After every show, I’d sit and help her become my mom again, instead of whatever persona she’d had to put on that day.”

I pull my legs up, tucking my chin into my knees as he speaks.

“A lot of my favourite moments with her are like that. Whether she was coming off a movie set or had just finished walking a show. It was cool to see her do all of those things, but the best part was when it was just us two. Maybe it’s because she always let me eat ice cream after, but I think there was something else in those moments, too.”

I let out a soft laugh as the image of a young River settles in my mind. I never imagined that small boy I detested during classes, someone who seemed so arrogant and as if the world owed him everything, was going home and doing all of that for his mother.

“She raised you wonderfully,” I tell him.

From meeting her at the auction, it’s clear how much she adores River. The way they were with each other that night, sharing inside jokes and secret laughs, things that can only come from years of being close. River’s opened up to me a lot about his family, but I haven’t done the same. There’s not as much to say, hardly any fun stories like he has.

“I didn’t see my parents much growing up,” I say, and River’s fingers pause for a second before he goes back to undoing the braid he’s working on. “I remember moments like this, though. Days where I’d lie on the kitchen island and have my head in the sink while my dad washed my hair. Mom would style it after, braiding it or pressing it, whatever I wanted. We’d always eat dinner together after, and I’d get to pick my favourite foods.”

I don’t think my parents ever intended to leave me alone as much as they did. But as their businesses grew, and they had more to handle, they knew they had to work twice as hard as others to maintain it. The world of the wealthy and powerful was never designed for people like them, working-class people in a country that wasn’t even their own, but they were determined to carve their own path into it.

“As I got older, they were always super busy, barely even spending time in France. They had a few nannies that took care of me, and to be honest, I don’t know if I ever really noticed their absence.”

River hums in response, not saying anything as he allows me to continue.

“Evie became my sister, and her parents became mine. They were busy, too, but they still found time for Evie, and I guess at some point they realised my parents weren’t doing the same.”

“That must have been hard for you,” he says quietly.

“I don’t know. I never really knew I was missing out on anything.”

I consider my childhood, all the days and nights spent with Evie and her family, the ones spent alone with whatever nanny had been assigned to me.

“They were both dedicated to their work, wanting to be the best at whatever they did, and I guess if I took anything from them, it’s that.”

“It’s your best trait,” he tells me. “And maybe worst. That determination is what made me hate you when we were younger, and it’s what makes me lo- like you now.”

I catch the unsaid word, but River moves straight past it as if he didn’t almost say it.

“For what it’s worth, my mom loved meeting you. She asks about you all the time,” he continues.

“Really?” The word comes out breathless as I’m still trying to get air back into my lungs from what he nearly just admitted to.

“Yeah, she thought you were enchanting, her exact words.”

I laugh, wondering why she chose that over every other word that could possibly describe me.

“I’d like to meet her again, too,” I tell him, turning my head to one side so I can see his face.

A blush creeps up his cheeks, the tips of his ears red as he stares at my hair, avoiding my eyes.

“I really like you, River,” I tell him, for what might be the first time. I don’t think I’ve said the words outright to him yet, just danced around them, hoped my actions would convey them, but I’m tired of that now.

River glances up at me, his fingers twisted in my hair as he absorbs my words. I turn to face him properly, untangling his fingers and taking his hands in mine.

“Did you hear me?” I ask, knowing full well he did. “I like you, River. A lot.”

He doesn’t say anything; he just leans forward until his forehead tips against mine and we’re breathing the same air in sync. His breaths are shaky, his hands cling to mine, and his forehead presses against mine as if he can fuse our minds together and telepathically tell me how he feels instead of saying it out loud.