Page 187 of Boyfriend of the Hour
Nathan found himself smiling as she spoke. He’d always enjoyed this about Isla—her unabashed dedication to whatever she found interesting. She had the typical fixations of people on the autism spectrum, but there was joy in that kind of attention that a lot of people could learn from.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “But maybe there are some things in common. Your interest and passion, for instance, might be a feeling you have for a person too.”
“What else?” Isla said. “In case I ever feel that way.”
“It’s hard to define,” Nathan said. “I’m learning about it myself. But I think it has to go beyond that. Love is about how you communicate with someone else. More than anything, I think love is honest. It’s when you can be completely yourself with another person, and they can be completely themselves with you. And when you care for exactly what each other is, and maybe even care about them as much as you care for yourself…maybe that’s love.”
Isla looked to Mary. “That was seven sentences. He should have stopped talking.”
Mary shrugged. “No one’s perfect. I think Nathan may feel as strongly about this topic as you do about horses.”
Isla turned back to him. “Is that true? Are you obsessed with love like I am with horses?”
Nathan looked around the room as if searching for an answer. It was then he realized that love wasn’t necessarily the same emotion every time, which was probably why it was so unquantifiable. It didn’t fit into a rubric, wasn’t a clearly described syndrome in the DSM-5, nor could it be diagnosed with a list of symptoms.
But he knew what it was because of the people who inspired it in him.
“No,” he answered finally. “But maybe I am a little obsessed with the people I feel love for.”
People like the girl in this room, whose blunt manner still charmed him as much when she was seventeen as when she was four.
And people like the woman waiting for him in Paris. The one who still had no idea how he felt.
THIRTY-SEVEN
THINGS I HATE ABOUT PARIS
#10 Marie lives hear but i need her
“It’s fine, really. I’m barely here, and it’s not like we didn’t share a room for most of our lives anyway. I’m used to it.”
I blinked my eyes open into the distinct Parisian light. They said the light here was pink, but I wasn’t sure I saw a difference. From Marie’s apartment, a tiny rooftop studio that was probably a maid’s quarters when the building was originally constructed, it looked pretty damn gray to me. Just like my mood for the last two weeks.
My sister’s muted voice continued to float in from her balcony, where she was in deep conversation with someone else. Someone I also knew. Sort of.
“It’s just weird, you know? She usually bounces back from things like a basketball. When Tommy Lopez dumped her in the tenth grade, she cried for an hour and then found a new boyfriend on the walk home. But she’s been in Paris, of all places, for two months, and all she’s basically done is sleep, eat, and watch Netflix.”
“Ces is worried about her too,” came a deeper British voice. “She wouldn’t stop pacing the house until I agreed to come and check on her. Again.”
I frowned. Xavier was back?
Two months ago, Xavier Parker had been my unsuspecting savior. He’d whisked me out of the hospital benefit so quickly I didn’t even remember the steps from the museum to his private car to the apartment, where he’d helped me pack the necessities before bringing me straight to his private jet and taking me to Paris to see Marie as requested.
I’d barely noticed any of it.
I hadn’t been able to do anything but wilt once I’d arrived. Had left my phone, battery dead, in my backpack while I spent my days sleeping, allowing Marie to let our family know I was alive. Everyone else could fuck off. I was too busy wallowing in the look on Nathan’s face when he saw that video.
Shame, pity, disgust. They were all there. The expressions I’d come to expect from everyone else in my life. But never him.
“Do you think she’d be better off in London?” Xavier was wondering. “Or maybe she should go to Boston or back to New York. Face the music, as they say.”
“Matthew’s already got his hands full with the new baby, and I doubt London would be any better than here. Plus, with Frankie about to pop any day, you guys deserve some time on your own,” Marie replied. “New York isn’t any better. Kate’s in LA on business, and Lea’s just done. She’s still mad Joni got wrapped up with those gangsters.”
“Yeah. That might not have been Joni’s fault, really,” Xavier said. “What about Rome, with Sarah?”
“No. Nonna doesn’t need to get wrapped up in all of this. The only traveling she’ll want to do is to visit her great-grandbabies. Don’t worry her with Joni’s drama.”
“Well, I still think Lea’s being a bit unreasonable.”
