“I’m really happy she stuck it out.”
“I told her it wouldn’t happen again.”
“It better not, Derek. If you don’t want her to leave, you have to give her a reason to stay. I can already see how much she’s improved your life, and frankly, she hasn’t even gotten started yet. You can’t replace her with someone else because they’ll be a disappointment in comparison—because she’s that good.”
The change in lifestyle was still a bit intrusive and difficult for me to accept because it was such a drastic change from my former isolation. Now, I talked to Emerson almost every day, and with the exception of my colleagues, there was no one else I talked to that often. It was hard to open my life to someone, to let them see everything, and I still resisted from time to time. But after I’d screamed at her, I felt like shit for the way it must have made her feel, and that made me realize I cared about her.
I didn’t want to lose her.
That was a huge revelation for me, that I actually liked the way she helped me.
I didn’t even like it when my mom picked up my mail.
My mom spoke again. “She’s a very bright and resilient woman, so I’m not concerned about her bouncing back from this. But due to that confidence and strong self-respect, she won’t put up with someone treating her unkindly, because money isn’t the most important thing in the world to her, and no paycheck is worth mistreatment. That’s what makes her so valuable, Derek. Because she’s not like everyone else.”
Ryan sat across from me, his arm over the back of Camille’s chair. A beer was in his hand, and he drank from it before he spoke. “So, it’s like done, done?”
I nodded.
“Like, for good?” He dropped his arm from her chair and leaned forward.
“Yes.” I was irritated by the question even though I deserved it.
“That bitch is truly gone?” Camille asked.
“Come on, don’t call her that.” I shouldn’t defend her because she didn’t deserve it, but I still felt bad shit-talking to my friends when she was a famous model with a reputation. I wouldn’t want her talking about my character either.
“Derek.” Ryan set down his beer. “She literally went into your phone behind your back so she could keep tabs on you. And you’re going to defend her? That’s why I’m worried this isn’t really over…”
“It is over,” I snapped. “I just don’t want to sit around and call her names. Trust me, I was fucking livid too.” It’d been a week since the incident happened, and Fleur hadn’t contacted me. She probably knew she had absolutely no chance now.
“Maybe you should stop going for the younger women and find someone with maturity, you know?” Camille asked. “Like a grown-ass woman who won’t behave like a child and do obnoxious things.”
“All women do that shit.” Age didn’t matter.
“But you’re really going to be that guy who dates younger women forever?” Camille asked incredulously. “You aren’t Leo—no offense.”
Ryan moved his hand to her shoulder. “Baby, get off his ass. He can do whatever he wants.”
I gave him a nod, appreciating the way he backed me up to his own woman.
“I’m just saying…” She adopted a gentler tone. “You’ve been doing this for a decade now. Hasn’t it gotten old?”
I shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do with my time? I don’t want a commitment of any kind, so why would I want to waste a woman’s time? Girls like Fleur are so young that they’ve got time to waste, and they’re happy to waste it on me.” I drank from my beer. “That’s why I never go for women my age. They’re at the point when they’re trying to settle down, and they don’t want to waste a second on me—which is fine. They shouldn’t waste any time on me, when I literally have nothing to offer them—ever.”
Camille considered my words for a long time, as if on some level, she agreed with it. “That’s fine, Derek. But you don’t think you might change your mind about wanting those things? And if you wait until you’re thirty-five or forty, all the women your age will be settled down. And with your personality, you would want a woman with a certain level of maturity. Anyone younger than you will simply never understand you.”
“No.” I drank from my beer.
“No what?” Camille asked.
“No,” I answered. “I won’t change my mind.” I was set in my ways. There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that I wanted to be a bachelor for life. My dad was almost sixty, and he was still working full time with no plans for stopping. That would be me. I’d work until old age took me. “Marriage and kids aren’t for everyone. We need to stop living in a society where all women are expected to have children, or if a woman is single by a certain age, there’s something wrong with her. Just last week, my assistant said she was single, like it was something to be ashamed of. Not every person’s happily ever after has to look the same, Camille.” I never said these things to my parents whenever they asked about my dating life, because I didn’t want to disappoint them. My dad might understand my solitude, but my mother never would.