Hate You Not

One of my objectives while I’m there this time is to learn more about her. If her dad’s not a fucking bastard, why does she distrust men so much? What happened to her?

I glance down at my rolling carry-on and then make one more quick call to confirm delivery of Oliver and Margot’s birthday gift.

Then, as I walk onto the plane, I call June.

“Hey,” she says, sounding surprised and hesitant. “You calling to talk to the little minions?”

“Actually, I called for you.”

“Oh did you?”

“I did. I wanted to ask you about their birthday present.” Please say yes. If she doesn’t, I’ll have to call the whole thing off and come up with something else.

“Let me guess, two penguins to stash in the bath tub? Just a little ice required,” she says drolly.

I snort. “Nah. But you’re warm with that answer.”

“Oh Lord above, just tell me.”

I smile. “Okay…so I want to buy an above-ground pool. I already did, and they’re planning to set it up early tomorrow morning. If you approve.”

“A what?”

Her incredulity makes me grin. “You know…an above-ground pool. The round ones with the ladder on the side? It would require some maintenance, but I hired someone from the company to come and clean it during summers. I’m told the Southern experience is mainly had inside a pool in summer time.” I smile at the thought.

“Well, there’s a creek on the farm,” she says slowly.

I heft my rolling bag into a compartment above my seat and sink into the leather chair beside the window. “Well that’s good. But this is a pool. I thought it could go beside the house.”

“I’ve got the pens there now. For the goats and the pigs. They’re right behind the house.”

“What about out to the left, like in the front. On that side where we had the bounce castle thing, but back a little? Under that big tree?”

She sighs. “You’re really giving them a big ole pool? Are they even good swimmers?”

“The best. C’mon. I’m sure you know they’re both good swimmers.”

“Well, we’d have to be real sure. It’s different when you have something right beside the house.”

“I’ve seen them swim. You’re good.”

She sighs again. “Okay. If you say so.”

I smile. “Let’s have it be from both of us.”

“We’re not their mom and dad.” She says it like she’s rolling her eyes.

“No, but we’re their aunt and uncle. You’re giving the biggest part of it—the yard to put it on, and all your time to watch them swimming in it.”

“I’ll be swimming in it, too.”

“Get yourself a swimsuit, Juney.”

“I’ve got seven. You better bring yours. Nobody’s getting in wearing their boxer-briefs.”

I smirk at that, but decide not to be a pig about it.

“Scout’s honor. Got a suit in my bag.”

“We’ll see you and your suit later. Don’t let my brother get you too drunk this weekend. I heard he’s making hunch punch.”

“Nah, I’ve gotta work.”

There’s a brief silence, during which people stream past my seat toward the back of the plane. “Have a good flight, Mr. Benefactor. Don’t let all your altruism go to your big head.”

“Don’t tell the kids ahead of time if you can help it, okay? I want to come over in the morning and see them see it. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“We’ll be seeing you.”

I realize she hung up and shake my head at my phone.

“If that’s not reaction to a woman—or a man—then I’m not sure what is.”

I look up, blinking at the now-familiar face. “What are you doing here?”***Sabal Gurung, the hiking partner and hoped-for investing partner I was with when Asher and Sutton died, has decided that he wants to buy me out. I showed him our numbers and explained our plan when he and I spent time together at his mountain home. I told him all about the regulations, the municipality piece of things when we spoke during all that hiking.

I also confided in him about our AI challenges. AI is a vital piece of the app—without it, the app can’t do its main job, which is assessing its user—but I don’t have access to that…and he does. He seemed enthusiastic. Even said he thought the app could be important. “I’m an old man,” he told me then. “I need a legacy.”

It seemed like a sure thing, but then he didn’t buy in. I wondered about it briefly, but I was pissed off that I’d been with him, unable to be reached by phone, when Asher passed. So at the time, I sort of didn’t care.

Now he’s popped up on my flight, and as it turns out, he’s spent the last few months freeing up the capital to try to buy me out.

I listen quietly for most of the flight—as he tries to make a case that I’m spread too thin, “just one man,” and at risk of burning through my money before the app is able to be monetized.