siblings, too. She’s blown through most of her money. She put the house on the market, but she’s not even getting any nibbles. So now she wants me to invest in some business she wants to start. She wants to buy some chain massage therapy stores…” He sighed. “I don’t know what to do. I’d like to help her, but—“
Mia put a hand on his arm. “It sounds like you already helped her. She blew it. Is it your job to keep helping her?”
“No. You’re right. I guess I feel kind of guilty.”
“Why? You said she used you for your money, right?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty certain she never had any genuine feelings for me. But still, I wanted the divorce. She didn’t. So I feel responsible for her.”
Mia took a moment to reply. Blaine could see ideas running through her head. “Okay, I get that. But if she never loved you in the first place—”
“Maybe I also feel like a failure. Divorced twice before forty? Doesn’t look too good. It just validates all kinds of stereotypes about rich playboys. It’s almost like—” He struggled to find the words, because he wanted to make sure Mia understood. “This life I live, it’s forced me to become that stereotype. I’d rather have a stable home and a wife who loved me for me. Instead I get two divorces, and I’ve learned that it’s easier to just take care of myself and my needs by bouncing around.”
“Bouncing around the world,” said Mia. She frowned. “Bouncing around with women, too.”
Blaine stopped. “If I could meet a woman and I knew, one hundred percent, that she’d still love me if we lived on the street tomorrow, I’d stop bouncing.”
“Hey—Mia!” Another male voice entered the conversation. Perdita began yapping and squealing. A jogger stopped beside Blaine and Mia on the gravel path. He looked to be in his late twenties, fit and handsome in a college boy kind of way. He wore a baseball cap.
“Hey.” Mia’s face had paled. “Hey, Jeff.”
Her ex-boyfriend, thought Blaine.
Jeff knelt to appease the yipping Perdita by rubbing her belly. He cut a glance at Blaine out of the corner of his eye but spoke to Mia as if they were alone.
“Have you gotten my messages?”
She nodded. “I’ve been busy. This is Blaine—“
The Jeff guy didn’t show one bit of interest. “Right, you’re obviously busy. I’d like to talk to you, if you can find some time.”
Mia looked between Jeff and Blaine. Blaine took hold of the conversation. “Why don’t you just say whatever needs to be said right here? And like Mia said, my name is Blaine.”
Jeff’s chin jutted. “None of your business, dude. Call me, Mia.” He gave Perdita a last pat and resumed his jog around the lake.
Blaine took Mia’s hand, and to his disappointment, hers was shaking. Obviously, the run in with Jeff had affected her. He’d hoped for a casual blow off… maybe, “Oh, I knew that guy once, he was a loser!”
Instead, Mia said, “That was sort of intense. Sorry.”
“No worries,” said Blaine, even though the statement rang hollow in his own ears. “We’re not students anymore, fresh out of secondary school. We all have a past.”
Mia watched Perdita scamper and sniff. She’d been correct; the little dog was slowing down some. She squeezed Blaine’s hand. “What were we talking about?”
“I don’t remember,” said Blaine. He changed the subject to books. He could give her personal information that wouldn’t make either of them uncomfortable.
As Mia rattled on about Jane Austen, Blaine took heart in one fact. Everything Mia had told him about Jeff led him to believe the man was a failure in bed. Blaine usually succeeded in all his endeavors, but he
Mia put a hand on his arm. “It sounds like you already helped her. She blew it. Is it your job to keep helping her?”
“No. You’re right. I guess I feel kind of guilty.”
“Why? You said she used you for your money, right?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty certain she never had any genuine feelings for me. But still, I wanted the divorce. She didn’t. So I feel responsible for her.”
Mia took a moment to reply. Blaine could see ideas running through her head. “Okay, I get that. But if she never loved you in the first place—”
“Maybe I also feel like a failure. Divorced twice before forty? Doesn’t look too good. It just validates all kinds of stereotypes about rich playboys. It’s almost like—” He struggled to find the words, because he wanted to make sure Mia understood. “This life I live, it’s forced me to become that stereotype. I’d rather have a stable home and a wife who loved me for me. Instead I get two divorces, and I’ve learned that it’s easier to just take care of myself and my needs by bouncing around.”
“Bouncing around the world,” said Mia. She frowned. “Bouncing around with women, too.”
Blaine stopped. “If I could meet a woman and I knew, one hundred percent, that she’d still love me if we lived on the street tomorrow, I’d stop bouncing.”
“Hey—Mia!” Another male voice entered the conversation. Perdita began yapping and squealing. A jogger stopped beside Blaine and Mia on the gravel path. He looked to be in his late twenties, fit and handsome in a college boy kind of way. He wore a baseball cap.
“Hey.” Mia’s face had paled. “Hey, Jeff.”
Her ex-boyfriend, thought Blaine.
Jeff knelt to appease the yipping Perdita by rubbing her belly. He cut a glance at Blaine out of the corner of his eye but spoke to Mia as if they were alone.
“Have you gotten my messages?”
She nodded. “I’ve been busy. This is Blaine—“
The Jeff guy didn’t show one bit of interest. “Right, you’re obviously busy. I’d like to talk to you, if you can find some time.”
Mia looked between Jeff and Blaine. Blaine took hold of the conversation. “Why don’t you just say whatever needs to be said right here? And like Mia said, my name is Blaine.”
Jeff’s chin jutted. “None of your business, dude. Call me, Mia.” He gave Perdita a last pat and resumed his jog around the lake.
Blaine took Mia’s hand, and to his disappointment, hers was shaking. Obviously, the run in with Jeff had affected her. He’d hoped for a casual blow off… maybe, “Oh, I knew that guy once, he was a loser!”
Instead, Mia said, “That was sort of intense. Sorry.”
“No worries,” said Blaine, even though the statement rang hollow in his own ears. “We’re not students anymore, fresh out of secondary school. We all have a past.”
Mia watched Perdita scamper and sniff. She’d been correct; the little dog was slowing down some. She squeezed Blaine’s hand. “What were we talking about?”
“I don’t remember,” said Blaine. He changed the subject to books. He could give her personal information that wouldn’t make either of them uncomfortable.
As Mia rattled on about Jane Austen, Blaine took heart in one fact. Everything Mia had told him about Jeff led him to believe the man was a failure in bed. Blaine usually succeeded in all his endeavors, but he
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