relied on each other after our mother died.” He turned his attention to his plate.
“I can’t imagine how sad it is to lose both parents. How old were you when your mother passed?” She wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about their deaths, but he was the one who opened the door to the personal conversation.
“I was fifteen.” He shrugged. He looked nice in the red sweater, but she had a feeling there wasn’t much he could wear that didn’t work on him. He had a prominent bone structure, naturally tanned skin and tall—everything that made up a masculine man. She wasn’t sure how tall but when he was standing close to her, he dwarfed her five foot three frame. “Do your parents live close?”
She hated discussing her boring life, but if she thought back, she’d never had anyone ask so many questions before. “They moved to Florida several years ago. They wanted me to go with them, but I couldn’t leave Dawn, or the city. I didn’t want them to leave either, but they had always dreamed of retiring south. They have a small house on the water, and dad and his friends can play golf to his heart’s desire. What about your dad? Must have been a horrible loss.”
“Oh, I think we lost him years before we buried him.” A troubled expression swept across his features.
“Are you talking about when your mom died?”
“He worked a lot before she died, that I can remember, but after, we never saw him. I’m afraid he and I never saw eye-to-eye on most things, which eventually made the separation between us wider,” he said dryly. He slid his finger around the rim of his glass.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“Don’t be. Before he died we had a divulging chat and a lot of things were cleared up.” He scratched his chin. “Are you finished?” He pointed at her plate. She felt bad because she’d left some uneaten. Not because it wasn’t good, the meal was delicious, but because she’d been engrossed in talking with him. No matter how much she wished it wasn’t true, he fascinated her.
“Yes, I am.” She hoped he didn’t stop talking. “He never remarried?”
He shook his head. “Nope, but he had mistresses. We, as in my sister, and brothers and I, didn’t have any clue about them until one showed up at his funeral and later spoke to me privately, asking if he’d left her anything in his will.” He sniffed loudly. “I think she was heartbroken when I told her no.”
“That’s very sad.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I never quite saw it that way. I always found it sad that he was a sixty-year-old man that needed a harem to keep him happy.”
She looked into her glass of water. The ice chips were almost melted. “Maybe he loved your mother so much that he couldn’t find just one woman that came close to her, so he needed several.”
“If only I could believe that.”
“I’ve seen a variety of women on your arm, Victor. What’s your excuse?” she asked.
“Oh, now have you?” He laughed. “And here I thought we socialized in different circles.”
“In pictures.” She swallowed.
He blew out a long breath. “ Old pictures, sweetheart. I’m afraid my time is divided by many other things these days.”
Did he just call me sweetheart? She slid her finger through the condensation on her glass. “That must be very hard on you,” she teased.
“Are you a romantic, Avary?”
“Do I believe in love? Yes, I do.”
He chuckled. “The L word.”
“You can’t even say it? You’ll never find it unless you have hope.” Who was she to give advice? She could easily back herself into a corner with this conversation.
“I never have outside of my family. I’m not sure it exists.”
“Wow, that’s awfully pessimistic, especially for someone who saw how much his father loved his mother.” There was an underlying sadness about him that she could see when he spoke about his family.
His eyes clouded with…irritation? He blinked and the mysterious expression vanished into a