New York Billionaires Series

“Because of the company we told him he had to take over next.”

“He doesn’t want to?”

“No.” Seeing Joshua’s expression, I hurry to explain. “No, he does. It’s a good opportunity. But it’s in an industry he thinks is a bit… silly.”

“What is it?”

“A matchmaking company.”

Joshua frowns, a tiny furrow between his brows. “A what?”

“It’s for grown-ups who want to meet a wife or a husband, but are having trouble finding one on their own.”

“Oh.” Joshua lets out a chuckle, swinging his legs above the water. “That is silly.”

“Anthony thinks so too.”

“There are a ton of grown-ups. Shouldn’t it be easy to find someone to marry?”

I run a hand over my rough jaw. I hadn’t bothered to shave this week, and the feeling is foreign against my hand. “Well, grown-ups don’t want to just marry anyone. It’s difficult to find the right person.”

Joshua gives a wise nod. “Is that why you haven’t gotten married, Dad?”

“Part of it, I suppose. And I work a lot too.”

His glance down at my phone makes it clear my kid thinks the very same thing. No doubt emphasized by Linda’s well-meaning comments. “Do you wanna get married?”Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Well, kid, I don’t know. I suppose I do, if I meet the right woman.”

He shades his eyes and looks out across the endless water ahead of us. He’s a little red at the nape of the neck despite the copious amounts of sunscreen my mother is careful to slather him in. “I like your friend who came to dinner. Freddie.”

I try to keep my tone level when I answer. “She’s really nice, isn’t she?”

He looks down at the fish beneath us. “Yes. When she comes over again, I think I might give her my giant stuffed elephant, the one I won at the Thanksgiving Fair.”

“Oh? How come?”

“She liked elephants more than me, and besides, I’m almost too old for stuffed toys.” He turns to me with a smile that looks so much like Jenny’s that I suddenly feel seven years old again, looking up at my older sister at his age. “Besides, you want to marry her, don’t you, Dad? I can help you convince her.”

My heart squeezes tight in my chest and perhaps my answering smile is a bit sad, because his falters. “Don’t you want to?”

“I do,” I admit. “But she’s moving away.”

“Yeah. To Italy.”

He sighs, looking down at his bare feet. “Danielle might move back to France.”

“She told me before we went on break. She’d heard her parents say they weren’t going to stay in America forever.”

I smile. “That might still be a while. They could stay here for years.”

He shrugs. “I told her I didn’t want her to go.”

“Yes.” A private smile forms on his lips, and I know he’s far away. Lost in the memories of his first crush. I wonder when he’ll stop confiding this sort of thing to me.

I hope it’s never.

“So you still like her,” I comment.

He nods. “And I think she likes me too. She’s stopped spending time with Dexter. She always sits next to me.”

“That’s great, kid.”

His smile widens. “Yes. Did you ask Freddie not to move away?”

I shake my head slowly. “No.”

“Why not? Perhaps she won’t. You know, if she likes you too.”

It’s so simple, coming from Joshua. Obvious. The clarity in his voice isn’t hindered by adult concerns or nuance.

I run a hand through my hair, and it’s just as salt-roughened as my kid’s. “If I say it, she might stay. And as much as I want that, I also know that moving to Italy is her dream.”

Joshua frowns in concentration. He’s really considering this, gears turning in his mind. “But Dad,” he says, “if you don’t tell her, perhaps she doesn’t know you want her to stay.”

“I think she knows.”

“Thinking and knowing isn’t the same thing,” he informs me, legs swinging. “Mrs. Kim always says that in science class.”

My lips tug. “Well, she’s right about that.”

“I think you should tell her. Then she knows, and she can make up her mind.”

So simple.

So clear.

And yet his words lead me into a different direction, one I hadn’t considered before. By not asking her, by not telling her explicitly how I feel, I’m not trusting her to make her own decisions. I haven’t given her the full picture. All the words I haven’t spoken suddenly fill my chest, clog my throat, until they feel like they’re going to choke me.

Joshua gives me a wide smile. “I’m right?”

“You are,” I tell him. “You really are.”

“See, Dad, I know things too.”

“Oh, you sure do, kiddo.”

He’s his own person, someone unique and separate from me, Michael and Jenny. And yet I get the strangest feeling that Jenny has told me off again, this time from the grave and through her son.