The woman waves at me, holding out her hand. “I’m Sharon! It’s nice to meet you!”
“This is my dad’s girlfriend,” Vince says, and Sharon starts beaming like he just proclaimed her the queen of the universe.
I shake her hand. “Hi, I’m Nina. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“This is my dad, Neil Devlin.”
Neil Devlin has a poker face and mischievous dark eyes. He looks down at me as he shakes my hand, saying nothing.
“How do you do.”
He bows his head and slow-blinks his eyes, watching me. I can’t tell if he hates me or not.
The bigger, bolder version of Vince, who has been studying me while standing very still and holding a tumbler, takes my hand. He doesn’t really shake it, doesn’t let go of it either. “You really dating this idiot?”
“My brother, Gabe.” Vince is shaking his head, amused.
“Hi, Gabe. Yes, I really am.”
“Well, you ever want to hang with a real man…you come see me.”
“And then he’ll send you to the real man in the family—me. And I’ll send you back to Vince.”
“And I will keep you the hell away from these assholes from now on.”
Sharon giggles as Neil puts his arm around her.
“The new nanny watching Charlie tonight?” Vince asks his father.
“Yeah. Karen.” He looks at me. “We hire a sixty-year-old nanny this time, and this guy can’t even remember her name.”
Good to know.
“I remember her name,” Vince protests. “It’s Karen. Karen Walters.”
“Karen Williams,” says Gabe.
“It’s Karen Winters,” Sharon tells them.
“See why I keep her around,” Neil Devlin says, giving Sharon a squeeze. I get a wink from him. “We’re very happy to meet you, Nina. Vince has been slightly more tolerable since he met you, which is saying a lot.”
“Actually, he’s even less tolerable because he just spaces out and smiles like a moron in meetings.” Gabe punches Vince’s arm.
These guys are so cute. It’s too much.
“Okay, let’s go get you that drink now.” Vince pulls me back toward the bar, and I wave to the Devlins and Sharon. “That was terrible,” he says, head lowered.
“Awww, come on,” I say, rubbing his back. “Haven’t you ever run into your family when you were out in public before? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“Okay, smartass. You ready for your French Kiss?”
“Am I ever.”
He goes behind the bar, salutes the bartender with two fingers, and starts inspecting the stock.
In no time, a clean-cut man in a polo shirt is standing right next to me as I lean against the counter. He looks over and nods at me. I smile politely.
“I’m Mark,” he says, holding out his hand to me.
“Hi, Mark. I’m Nina.” He may be a co-worker or client of Vince’s, so I don’t make a point of moving away from him.
“You having a good night, Nina?”
“So far so good. You?”
“Getting better. Can I get you a drink?”
“I got her covered, man.” Vince’s voice is deeper than usual.
Mark raises his eyebrow at him. “Hey, can I get a gin and tonic?”
I guess they don’t know each other.
“Yeah, you should definitely walk your loafers on over there and ask the bartender for one of those.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think you heard me.” Vince’s jaw is so rigid as he leans against the counter, flexing his muscles.
I force a laugh. “Um, he’s not the bartender. He’s just making me a drink.”
“I think you’d be better off getting a drink with me, somewhere else,” Mark says.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vince slams down the bottle he was holding and starts out around the bar.
I maneuver myself to block this guy from Vince, pulling Vince, with all my might, away and out of the room.
“I wasn’t gonna hit him,” he assures me unconvincingly.
“I’d just like to talk to you outside please.”
I lead him through the lounge and toward the front doors without looking back at him.
I can control a room full of six-year-olds. I should be able to get one twenty-eight-year-old man to behave himself. Here’s how it is. Here are the rules. Rules bind our anxiety so we don’t have to worry about what we should be doing. I learned that while I was getting my degree. And while I was dating Russell.
I let go of his hand when we’re on the sidewalk. No one else is around. I put my hands on my hips. Vince looks defiant but also a tiny bit ashamed.
“You can’t talk to people like that. Isn’t everyone a potential client for you?”
“We have a strict No Douchebag client policy.”
“Well, it makes me uncomfortable when you talk to someone like that just because he was talking to me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were so into him.”
“Vince. I was not into him. I’m here with you. I’m not going to ignore men who talk to me, especially when I have no idea if they know you or not, but I have no interest in getting to know them. You can trust me.”
“I do trust you. It’s that guy I don’t trust.”
“Well, I can’t make you trust someone. But please try not to let your feathers get ruffled. This is our first time out on a real date, so I’d prefer it if there were no bloodshed.”
He looks at me like I’ve been speaking a foreign language, and then a smile spreads across his face and he lowers his head, laughing. “’Try not to let your feathers get ruffled?’ What are you—ninety?”
“Well, now you’re just trying to ruffle my feathers,” I say, putting up my dukes.
He grabs my hands and pulls my arms around his waist. “Baby, I want to ruffle your feathers until you’re too exhausted to fly away.”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Is there anyone else whose feathers you want to ruffle anytime soon?”
“Hell no.”
“Well, we’re on the same page, then. You asked me to give you the summer. How about we officially agree that we will only be with each other this summer? To eliminate anxiety.”
His face gets so serious, and I almost regret my approach. “What if I still want you when the summer’s over?”
It’s difficult to get your facial muscles to form a smile when you’re completely melting on the sidewalk, but somehow I manage. “We can revisit this issue in September.”
“Plan on it. Deal.” He cradles my hand in his face and kisses my mouth. “I’m all yours this summer.”
“I’m all yours this summer.”
Even under the dim streetlight, I can see that his eyes are sparkling. “You are something else.”
“Thanks?”
“Thank you. I hope you don’t have plans for tomorrow morning, ’cuz I’m gonna take you to brunch.”
“Really? I love brunch.”
“I had a feeling.”
“Shall we return to the party now?”
He cranes his neck, looks around over my shoulder. “There’s an alley over there. I could ruffle your feathers a little more first.”
I spank his perfect butt. “Back to the party, sir. That will have to wait until we’re back at your place.”
He groans and takes my hand as we head back to the front door of the bar. “You’re mean, Miss Parks.”
“It’s for your own good,” I say and then lean in to whisper in his ear: “Trust me, you’re going to want to see me in the bonkers lingerie I have in my purse.” Words I have certainly never uttered before in my life.
I hold up my tiny purse, and he stops in his tracks, pulls out his phone, and opens up his Uber app. I take his phone away from him. “No—we have to say good-bye to everyone first.”
“You are slowly killing me, Miss Parks.”
As we make our way through the front o
f the bar, I notice a young woman watching us. Vince doesn’t see her. In one second, her facial expression reveals so many things when she watches Vince—lust, hope, anger, bitterness, wistfulness. I know in the pit of my stomach that she has probably slept with him, and because she doesn’t approach him, he probably hasn’t seen her since.
Finally, after he has passed by her, she calls out, “Vince.”
He looks back at her, still holding my hand, and I see no hint in his face that seeing her causes him to feel any emotions at all. “Oh hey, good to see you. Have a good night.” Polite, pleasant, and not at all personal. He puts his arm around me, and we retreat into the private room. I don’t look back to see the woman’s reaction, but I know how I would feel if I were in her shoes. I try not to think about whether or not I will be in her shoes—or when. For now, I believe him when he tells me he’s mine. All I have to do is get through the summer without losing my mind. I’ve already lost my heart.
16
Nina
Almost overnight, I suddenly have the kind of summer schedule that I’d dreamed of having before I moved to Brooklyn and got caught up in Russell’s regimented weekends of foodie adventures, jazz concerts, and antiquing.
I finally saw Hamilton on Broadway. Who lives in New York for three years without managing to see Hamilton? It was just as electrifying as meeting Vince, and I left both of them feeling young and super-charged and ready for anything.
When I was with Russell, I must have given off a Don’t look at me/don’t talk to me vibe, because I swear—men never used to check me out when I walked around town. They never used to strike up conversations with me in line at the market. Ironically, now is when I’m totally uninterested in getting to know another man, but I feel so open. And it’s all because of Vince Devlin.
This is, without a doubt, the best summer I have had since moving to Brooklyn. It’s the best summer of my life, if I’m being honest. I almost don’t even think about what it will be like once school starts up again. When I’ll be asleep by ten p.m., using faux swear words again, and seeing my fucking ex-fiancé five days a week. For now, I am more awake and busier than ever. Ignoring every lingering ghost thought of Russell and Sadie while staying focused on Vince. He has shown me so much of Brooklyn, usually on the fly in the middle of the day, between his meetings—when I’m not hanging out with Marnie or my other teacher friends.
He’ll just call me up and say: “You like to doodle, right? You been to the Brooklyn Art Library? I’ll meet you there in a half hour.” And then we’ll spend an hour looking through an amazing collection of artists’ sketchbooks. When we’re walking to get ice cream in Greenpoint, he’s like: “Hey, you like cats?” and we take a little detour to see the Cat Village—a colony of feral cats that keep the local rodent population in check. At night, I’ll get a call after his last meeting: “Hey, you feel like going out to hear some music? A buddy of mine’s performing tonight.” And then he’ll take me to the Brooklyn Academy of Music to see his buddy perform.
Anything can happen when I’m with him, and so far there have been no more incidents when other men are friendly to me. Like the Italian waiter at this cozy neighborhood joint where we’re getting lunch in the back garden. Vince even seems amused by the ostentatious way this fellow is flirting with me. After we order, I pull out a book from my bag and place it on the table in front of him.
“What’s this?”
“Just a little gift. I was browsing the bookstore this morning, and I wanted you to have a copy of this. It’s one of my favorite poetry books.”
He has such a big smile on his face as he picks it up. “Nobody’s ever given me a book as a gift before. Not since I was a kid.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Thank you. I will read every word. I have something for you too, actually. In the trunk of my car. Which is at my dad’s place. I’ll give it to you tonight. Who’s Rumi?”
“Rumi was a thirteenth century mystic poet and is one of the most popular poets in America, actually. He wrote so beautifully about love and longing and opening your heart to all of life’s experiences. Even the painful ones. It got me through a lot, back in Bloomington. It’s just beautiful, and…when I read a lot of these now, they remind me of you.” I can’t look up at him to see his expression. I’ve laid out so much more on the table than just that book. I laugh. “Before you, my biggest form of rebellion was reading Rumi poems when my dad was teaching classes on Chaucer and Shakespeare’s sonnets.”
“You really still think you’re rebelling by being with me?” He is amused more than offended, but it’s definitely both.
“Well no, I mean…I just…I had never had a one-night stand with a stranger before.”
“Uh-huh. Well, it doesn’t really count as a one-night stand anymore now, does it?”
“No. And I’m glad. But you were still a stranger.”
“Everyone’s a stranger at first, Nina.”
Another excellent point.
“Were you on the debate team in high school, by any chance?”
“No, but I did go to third base with one of the girls on the debate team. After giving a very compelling argument about why she should let me.”
I burst out laughing.
He grabs my hand and kisses the back of it. “I love that you gave me this. Thank you.” He puts it in his leather messenger bag and then reaches for my hand again. “Listen, I can’t go out tonight, but—”
“That’s fine,” I blurt out a little too quickly, trying to hide my disappointment.
“But…maybe you’d like to join us for dinner at my dad’s place. They’ve been bugging me about wanting to see you again. It’s Taco Tuesday at Casa Devlin. Unless my dad forgets to buy the ingredients again, and then it’s Tater Tot Tuesday. Plus, like, one vegetable maybe.”
“I’d love that. Yes. That sounds like fun.”
“Oh yeah. It’s like a Fast and Furious movie but with mediocre tacos and no cars. We can pick up Charlie at his day camp here in Carroll Gardens and then head over to Cobble Hill. His nanny gets off early today.”
“Oh, I get to meet Charlie?” This feels significant. Charlie seems like such an important person in Vince’s life, and I could tell he was waiting before talking about him more or introducing me to him. Probably because of the nanny-banging thing too.
“Yeah. It’s time you met the little turd.”
“Is he at the day camp on Smith Street?”
“Yeah, you know it?”
“Of course! It’s a great program. Some of my friends teach at summer day camps. I was considering it for this year.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re free to hang with me.”
“Yeah, that worked out pretty well.” I consider for a moment before asking him another question. But now that the door has cracked open a little… “Can you tell me about Charlie’s mother? So I don’t say the wrong thing in front of your family.”
“Well, she’s out of the picture. Has been since she ran off with some millionaire Greek guy two years ago.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Clara. She and my dad never got married. But they were together for seven years, even though she was a piece of work from day one. She had a few good qualities, I mean, she wasn’t all terrible. Except for the fact that she just up and left her six-year-old son with barely any explanation.”
My heart aches for all of them. “I can’t even imagine.”
“It was bad. But you know. My dad and brother and I were already working together at the brokerage, so we just started working together more on taking care of Charlie. He’s such a good kid. Breaks my heart. But he’s pretty tough. He’s definitely the smartest of all us Devlin guys.”
Hearing Vince talk about his little brother like this is making my ovaries ache. I so want to ask him about his own mother, but it doesn’t seem like the right time. He has pulled out his phone to check his texts and emails. We’ve accomplished enough for one lunch already.
17
N
ina
From a block away, I know which boy is Charlie without Vince ever having to point him out to me. Dark hair, sweet magnetic face and energy, sad eyes. He’s got his backpack slung over one little shoulder and a book in one hand while he looks around, kicking the sidewalk with the toe of his Chuck Taylors, pretending to ignore the kids around him who aren’t talking to him. He spots us coming toward him and looks happy to see Vince but confused seeing him with me. He waits for us to reach him, studying me the way I’ve been studied by all of the Devlin males I’ve met so far.
Definitely a Ponyboy.
“Hey, buddy. You ready to go?” Vince lets go of my hand and goes over to the other side of Charlie so that we’re flanking him as we continue down the sidewalk.
“Yeah.”
“This is my friend Nina. Remember I told you about her?”
Charlie looks up at me, unsmiling. “Hey.”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you, Charlie. You have a good day at camp?”
“It was all right.”
“Nina’s coming to have dinner with us tonight.”
“Did Dad remember to get all the taco stuff?”
“I hope so. I sent him a text to remind him.”
Charlie looks up at me while we walk and then looks over at his brother and asks with a sheepish grin, “So you’re the girl Vince is boning now?”
I blurt out a laugh, but Vince looks horrified. “Hey! He learned that from Gabe, not me.” He playfully smacks him on the back of his head. “We don’t talk to women like that, kid.”
I nod toward the book in his hand, changing the subject. “You’re reading Matilda? I loved that book when I was your age.”
He shrugs. “A girl gave it to me today. I haven’t read it yet.”
“Wow,” I say, looking at Vince. “When a girl gives you a book, that means she really likes you.” With one sentence, I manage to make both Devlins blush at the same time. It’s a tiny victory.
The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends Page 12
