Chapter 50 – Brent
By the time Amil knocks on my door, I’ve managed to cobble together something resembling a nice meal. Something I call chicken alfredo even though it’s somewhat of an original recipe. It’s been awhile since I’ve cooked so extravagantly, and by now it’s quite clear I’m no master chef, but it seems I’ve pulled it off.
Amil steps through the door and exclaims, “Wow! It smells amazing in here. Who did you pay to cook for you?”
“Just for that, you don’t get any wine!” I take the bottle she’s holding, laughing as I do.
“No wine? But that’s the only way I can put up with you!” she shoots back.
“Come on, is that any way to talk to your future husband? What happened to in sickness and in health and all that?”
“Last time I checked, there was no ‘in intoxication and sobriety’ clause in the usual vows.”
“You got me there.” She comes close, but instead of reaching for the wine bottle, she kisses me - then sneaks the wine bottle back out of my hand. “So, where’s your corkscrew?”
Dinner is wonderful. We eat, we talk, we laugh…and the whole time, I’m mentally on the edge of my seat, my brain ricocheting around, trying to figure out how to say what I need to say, what I want to say.
By the time we’re standing on the balcony of my apartment, looking out at the lights of the city with our third glasses of wine, I think I’ve figured it out.
“Nikki’s right.” I burst out. Well, that wasn’t it.
“What?” Amil leans back against the railing, eyebrows raised. She looks absolutely amazing, wearing a deep purple dress accentuated with gold.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Just…distracted for a second. Look, Amil, there’s something I need to tell you. Finish telling you, really.”
“What? Does The Bachelor want you back for another season? Lookalikes In Love, or something?” She’s trying to sound joking, but I can practically hear the breath catch in her throat.
“Close.” I smile, trying to ease her fear. I don’t think it works, but I plow ahead anyway. “You remember the last night at the winery? We talked about my family.”
“Sort of? We were both pretty out of it that night.” Amil is paying closer attention now, worry lines creasing her brow.
“Yeah…but you asked me about those women who came up to me at dinner. And you sort of fell asleep on me before I could totally tell you the truth.”
“What truth?” Amil isn’t relaxed anymore.
“That the reason they came up to me isn’t because I look like someone else.”
“I kind of figured that out,” she says, which causes me to relax a little. “I mean, I know I was really drunk the night you started telling me about it, but I get where you were going with it.”
“Okay, good,” I tell her. “Because I felt bad for lying. I know I’ve told you how I’ve earned my money. But, also, my family is incredibly rich. I try to have my independence from that but I’m also kind of attached to it involuntarily.”
Remembrance flashes across Amil’ face. “They knew about your last breakup.”
I nod, and at the same time, we both say, “Smelling blood in the water.”
“You’re richer than I even thought, and famous, and you didn’t tell me!” Amil brandishes her wine glass.
“Just rich. Not famous. I mean, I have some groupies and fans, but it’s mostly due to the rich part.”
“Still!”
“Look, let me explain.”
“Explain?”
“What I was going to tell you before you fell asleep that night, Amil. The story wasn’t over.”
“Oh.” She lowers the wine glass, and I take that as permission to continue.
“My family, they’re rich. My dad was a banker. You remember that much, I take it.” She nods, waiting for me to go on. “When my father passed away, he left his estate and company shares to me. Overnight, I wound up one of the richest men in New York. I didn’t want it. I hate numbers, I hate that world. But I loved my father. So, I put people he trusted in charge, and I took the money I need to survive - and thrive a little - and invested it in the opportunities I found, and went my own way.”
She meets my eyes. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“You say that.”
“Yeah, I do! I still don’t get why you kept it a secret from me, especially after the restaurant.”
This is it, then. This is when I have to tell her the real, core truth. “Because, Amil. I’m scared. This thing…this thing we’re doing, it’s turning into more than just something fun for me. I - I’m starting to really care about you. I hope you feel the same way, but if you do…I want you to be with me for me, not for money or anything like that. Some people…they find out about the money, and that’s all they want. I wanted to hang on to this, whatever it is, as long as I could. Just like Kelly. We had a prenup in place in case the wedding didn’t work out, and when she left me, she left with a lot of money. I’ve just tried to make sure that, you know, any future relationship I get into— which, I really didn’t mean to get into one so quickly, but, here we are— is based on more than just money.”
Amil regards me for a long moment. “You…are an idiot. But a lovable idiot, so it’s okay.” Even she seems a little surprised at the words coming out of her mouth. “I get bad relationships, I do. But do you really think I would’ve kept this whole thing up just for fun? I’m a lawyer. I work 14 hour days during the week, and I do just fine for myself. Trust me, I don’t need your money. But I do want you. So, the real question is, do you want me?”
I meet her eyes, loving the quiet, soft smile growing on her face. “I do. I really do.”
“Good.” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “Now, Richie Rich, is that a roll of silver dollars in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
“That…is the worst pickup line you’ve ever used on me.”
“Did it work?” She runs her lips over the skin of my neck, and I have a feeling she already knows the answer.