Page 27 of Discord
“How did you learn to cook?” I asked suddenly, nodding at the perfect stack of round, golden pancakes.
“You learn a few things after living alone for too long.”
There was a hint of bitterness in his tone, making me wonder out loud, “How long have you lived alone?”
“Officially, nine years.”
“And unofficially?”
He stared at me for a beat. “Eleven,” he replied curtly.
Brandon’s twenty-seven, so since he was sixteen. I had no idea how he got away with living alone while underaged. The lengths he must have gone to avoid living with his father must have been extraordinary.
“Ever had a roommate?” I asked to distract from the memory.
“No.”
“Doesn’t it get boring?”
Brandon shrugged noncommittally.
God. When had it become so difficult to speak to this man?
“It’s nice you don’t get lonely living alone,” I persisted. “Then again, it can also be lonely with a houseful of people.” My breath hitched. I hadn’t meant to share anything personal, but there it was, out in the open.
He tossed me a somewhat perplexed look. I considered his expression, which gave nothing away. The Brandon I met in Nice was softened by grief and had shown glimpses of tenderness. That man was long gone. Brandon had reverted to a man who didn’t value cliché sentiments.
It’s also possible Brandon was open because he thought me to be an older, sophisticated woman. Perhaps he only let his guard down around people he considered his equal, which obviously wasn’t me in light of my age and all.
I quietly returned to my cereal when he spoke abruptly. “It does get lonely… living alone.”
Brandon’s confession was out of the blue and surprised us both. Our gazes met fleetingly before returning to our respective meals.
“The closest I had to a roommate was the live-in housekeeper for my place in the Hamptons,” he spoke again, unprovoked.
“Oh. Is it nice out there? I have never been.”
“I’ll take you.”
My eyes widened at his unprecedented offer, though my gaze remained on the inside of my bowl.
Brandon cleared his throat, glancing at a point over my shoulder. “Would you like that?” he asked, seemingly holding his breath.
I couldn’t understand the meaning behind such an offer. Understanding it would only jumpstart my previous obsession, whereas this was meant to be the end—a final hurrah. A proper goodbye before Brandon moved to California.
Even if he weren’t moving, sooner or later, he’d tire of my impulse control, my slight stalking habits, along with our age difference, and all the other issues I’d bring to his life. I chanced a hasty glance and shrugged, leaving it to an obscure possibility like everything else between us.
Sensing Brandon’s less guarded attitude, I chanced an opportunity to quench my curiosity over a few other matters. Instead of posing it as a demand, I took the scenic route in search of my query.
“Have you taken other girls to the beach house since inheriting it?”Had there been anyone else since your dad’s death and after we officially met?
Brandon didn’t flinch, nor would he bother explaining himself. Just as I digressed, he said, “You’re too smart to ask stupid questions.”
With one answer, he both complimented and insulted me. Only Brandon possessed the rare ability to answer a question without explaining himself.No.Though it had nothing to do with me, Brandon didn’t indulge women.
“Have you always been with older women? None of them were younger than you?”Or my age?Will I ever be mature or sophisticated enough for you?
“I repeat, you’re too smart to ask stupid questions,” he emphasized the wordrepeat,slight annoyance knitting through his voice.
