The Boy on the Bridge

by Sam Mariano

  “It doesn’t sound stupid,” she says, still looking slightly shell-shocked. “I know I haven’t always gone easy on the kid, but I’m hardly going to hold it against him that he was protective of my daughter when some little jerk was pushing himself on her.”

  This revisionist history doesn’t settle well. It gnaws at me a bit, but it’s close enough to the truth that it only feels like half a lie.

  I know my mom, though. It’s not in her nature to let something like this go unless she’s sure the offending party has been adequately punished—and even then she doesn’t really let it go, she’ll just stop actively pursuing it.

  She went to bat for Hunter when she didn’t even like him. I’m her daughter.

  “I know it wasn’t exactly gentlemanly behavior on Sherlock’s part, but Hunter already split his lip and Coach suspended him for a game, so... it’s over, okay? We’re all gonna let it go and move on. No real harm done.”

  “This time,” she says, confirming my doubts. “Guys like that… the more you let them get away with, the more it convinces them they’re untouchable.”

  “He didn’t get away with anything,” I tell her. “He behaved a little badly and was duly chastised. The end.”

  “How pushy was he?” she questions.

  “It was literally just a kiss.”

  “You said he cornered you.”

  I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I tell her, since I’m not confident in my ability to simultaneously protect both Hunter and Sherlock if I keep talking.

  “Did he try to do more than kiss you?”

  “No,” I say adamantly.

  Mom watches me closely, a slight frown on her face. “You’re being really defensive about this, Riley.”

  I should stop talking because I know she’s right.

  Instead, what bursts out of me is, “I’m sick of everyone giving him shit about it. It was just a kiss. It didn’t even mean anything.”

  Mom blinks at me, understandably thrown.

  I huff, feeling mildly self-conscious about my outburst.

  I don’t know what to say, though. It’s the truth.

  I didn’t hate Sherlock. I still don’t. If I’d never met Hunter, I may have even welcomed his kiss.

  No, I didn’t want him to kiss me that night, but I don’t want Hunter to be mean to him over it, either. Maybe I should feel flattered that he’s jealous over me, but I’m actually starting to get a bit pissed.

  He was with Valerie and I didn’t go after her. Hell, I passed up opportunities to be mean to that girl, and she’s an asshole.

  Sherlock was just looking out for Hunter. He didn’t really have bad intentions.

  Hunter doesn’t need to go after his own friend over one little kiss. He needs to get a grip. Everyone needs to get a grip.

  When I look back at my mom, her expression is wary, but guarded. That wasn’t how I intended to get out of this conversation, but I can tell it’s over. She won’t pursue this any further. Not right now, at least.

  Her gaze drifts past me to my overnight bag. “Six o’clock, huh?”

  I nod, looking down.

  Attempting to inject a note of cheer into her tone, she says, “Well, I can give you a ride, if you want.”

  My gaze jumps to hers. “Really?”

  She nods, offering a tiny smile. “Yeah, why not? I’m gonna head over to Ray’s after, help him decide what he should bring and what he should toss when he starts packing. It’s practically on the way.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Flashing me a smile, she says, “No problem. Don’t forget that promise, though. I want lots of pictures. Even kissy ones.”

  I crack a smile. “I am not going to send you kissy pictures.”

  Her smile widens, then disappears. “I mean it, though, okay? I’m gonna give Hunter a chance. A real one. I promise. Middle school forgotten—he gets a clean slate as of today.”

  I stop what I’m doing and stare at her. “Really?”

  She nods. “Really. I’m not guaranteeing anything,” she adds, raising her eyebrows. “He still has to make a good impression and not impregnate my daughter for 10 more years if he wants me to like him, but… I’ll be open-minded.”

  “That’s all I’m asking for.” A smile claims my lips. Abandoning my packing, I cross the room and throw my arms around her. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me back. “I love you, kid.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Chapter Forty Six

  Riley

  Mom drops me off at Hunter’s house. He told me just to let myself in when I got here, but even knowing he has the place to himself, I feel weird doing it.

  “Hello,” I call out as I step inside the enormous entryway.

  I ease the door shut behind me and wander past the foyer into the living room.

  “In the kitchen,” Hunter calls back.

  “Your house needs some kind of intercom system,” I mutter back, even though I know he can’t hear me. I make my way toward the sound of his voice, and stop when I approach a massive kitchen with a sprawling island.

  A myriad of ingredients and cookware is spread across the marble surface. It looks like marble, anyway. Our counters are the cheap laminate kind from Home Depot, but whatever Hunter’s are made of, they’re much fancier.

  Hunter stands in front of the stove with his back to me. He looks so sexy standing there, cooking me dinner, I can’t resist dropping my bags and going over to him.

  “Mm, it smells incredible in here,” I say, wrapping my arms around him from behind.

  Hunter looks back at me over his shoulder and flashes me a smile. His hands are full cooking, so he doesn’t hug me back. “Glad you think so. Dinner’s about done. You can take a seat and wait while I finish up.”

  I unlock my arms around him. “You don’t want help?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve got it under control.”

  I walk back over to where I dropped my bag and take a seat at the end of the island. “I feel like I should help.”

  “You can help me make dinner tomorrow,” he says. “Tonight is simple.”

  Since his back is to me, I grab my purse and draw out my cell phone, then I take a quick picture of him making us dinner to send Mom. I attach it to a message and type, “Off to a very good start.”

  “Do you know anything about wine?” Hunter asks.

  “I know I’m too young to drink it in this country,” I toss back.

  He looks at me over his shoulder. “You’re not serious.”

  I crack a smile. “I’ll have a glass with dinner, if that’s what you were thinking.”

  He shakes his head, turning his attention back to the stove. “Such a goody goody. I was gonna send you down to the cellar to pick out a red, but I think I’ll handle that myself.”

  “Probably a good idea,” I agree.

  “Are you cool with room temperature, or do you want it chilled?”

  I sigh dramatically. “I shouldn’t have come over this weekend. Now you’re going to know how unsophisticated I am.”

  “Chilled it is,” he says, lightly amused.

  Hunter finishes up cooking and as he does, it becomes clear he really knows what he’s doing. He lets the meat rest while he preps the salad, then he slices the meat at a diagonal and plates it like a pro. My mouth waters at the sight and the smell as I hover over him and watch.

  “Are you sure I can’t do anything?”

  “You can put our plates on the table while I go grab the wine,” he tells me.

  While he goes to the wine cellar, I take the plates and the wine glasses over to the table. He already has two glasses of water and a place setting for each of us, so I know where to put them.

  When he comes back, he has a chilled bottle of wine, so they must keep chilled and room temperature stuff in the cellar. I want to tease him about having a wine cellar, but right when I’m about to rib him, he leans down and kisses m
e. His lingering kiss steals the teasing words right from my lips.

  My eyes are closed and I sigh when he pulls back.

  I open my eyes and look over at him as he takes a seat in his chair. “This dinner looks and smells amazing, but I have to tell you, I would’ve been happy having you for dinner.”

  Hunter smirks. “You’re having me for dessert.”

  “Oh, am I?” I tease, grabbing a fork and knife so I can cut into the steak on my plate.

  “Yep,” he says, before taking a drink of his wine.

  “I’m loving the menu at this place,” I joke as I spear a piece of meat on my fork and prepare to take a bite. “I’d give it a five star rating, but I’m feeling a bit selfish; I don’t want anyone else to find out about it.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s very exclusive,” he assures me before taking a bite.

  I pop a bite of steak into my mouth, too. It smells good, so I didn’t expect it would be bad, but when the flavorful meat practically melts in my mouth, my taste buds explode.

  “Oh my God,” I murmur, spearing another bite so I can make sure I’m not crazy.

  Hunter looks up. “What?”

  I take another bite, and sag in my seat. Once I’m done chewing, I tell him, “This is amazing.”

  The flicker of concern falls off his face and he smiles. “Glad you like it.”

  “It’s so good.” I grab my wine glass and take a sip. I know nothing about wine, but this one tastes pretty good with the flavor of steak still in my mouth. “Remember how we talked about you being good at too many things? We can add cooking to that list.”

  “It’s a skill I picked up while I was living in Italy,” he tells me.

  I point my fork at him. “I knew it. Who lives in Italy and doesn’t learn how to cook?”

  “Well, I’m sure some people manage, but I wasn’t one of them.” He takes another sip of his wine. “When I first got there, it was pretty uncomfortable. I mean, I had nice accommodations and everything. My dad had this beautiful estate he tucked me away at, but he was afraid to move me into the family house. His wife had agreed to let him bring me over so I didn’t end up in the system and potentially cause further embarrassment, but she wasn’t exactly excited about the constant reminder of his infidelity, either.”

  I nod. “That’s understandable. Not fair to you, but it was a bad situation all around. If you and some other woman had a love child, I wouldn’t be jumping for joy about it.”

  “Right, I understood that. But she actually came around pretty quickly once she met me. Anyway, when I first got there my dad was focused on keeping me out of her way, so I pretty much lived alone at his country estate. There was a staff to keep the place up, but since no one was staying there, they didn’t have a full time cook on staff.”

  “How sad for you,” I tease, taking another sip of my wine.

  “Yeah, poor me,” he says with a self-aware smile. “I didn’t know anything about cooking, so the housekeeper who lived there would cook for me, but she wasn’t there to coddle me, either. She expected me to pull my weight and help her out, so I did.”

  “That’s legitimately exactly how it went down in my fantasy of what your life in Italy must have been like. Was she a grandma?”

  He cracks a smile. “No, she wasn’t old. More middle-aged.”

  “I was still close.” On a whim, I take a bite of my steak with a forkful of the simple salad he prepared to go with it.

  Mm, so good.

  “So, your stepmom. You said she came around?”

  Hunter nods, spearing another piece of meat. “Yeah. I expected her to be chilly anytime we had to see each other, but she warmed right up to me.”

  “Does he cheat on her a lot, or…? Maybe she’s used to it.”

  Hunter frowns, shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that. I don’t know how much my mom told you, but she only saw things from her side, you know?”

  I nod. “Sure.”

  “He’s really not like that. I mean, I guess he was. But he was young and he didn’t really know better. This is not a problem you’ll probably sympathize with, but I get it, personally. He was in a similar situation to me. He was used to people pretty much doing what he wanted them to do. He was surrounded by yes-men. He’d dated plenty of women who let him get away with whatever the fuck he felt like doing and wouldn’t call him out because they were too afraid to lose him. See, when you’re in a position like that, people like your status, not you. I know it sounds like rich people problems, but it really is a thing, and it makes it hard to know who really likes you.”

  “I get it,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I won’t diminish your spoiled rich boy problems,” I add with a fond smile to soften my teasing. “I can certainly see how it would be harder to know who is genuine when you’re… such a great catch, for lack of better wording. The more people who want you, the less you can be sure why you’re wanted.”

  “Exactly. And it was like that for him, too. He wasn’t just some cold asshole, you know? Relationships seemed transactional to him. Being with him came with certain benefits, and he got what he needed. It was more an arrangement than a relationship most of the time, and he found that out when he realized it didn’t really matter how he treated them or if he strayed. They didn’t really care, as long as they could be on his arm at the next event.”

  My face scrunches up in disgust. “Gross. I can’t imagine living that way.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d be surprised how easily it can start to feel normal. Anyway, it did to him. And then he met his wife, and he fell for her pretty hard, but he had developed all these bad habits. He figured she’d put up with them like everyone else did. He was wrong. As soon as she found out he’d strayed, she dropped his ass—even though she was pregnant.”

  “Good for her,” I murmur, taking a sip of my wine.

  He doesn’t disagree. “When he lost her, he was miserable. He realized he’d fucked up. He realized he was being an asshole. He knew she was right when she told him she deserved better. He tried to get her to come back, figured as soon as he apologized she would, but she didn’t. She kept her distance. In fact, she started dating someone else. He was fucking crushed.”

  My lips curve down in sympathy, even though he totally deserved it.

  “He tried to move on, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He didn’t want anyone else. She was it for him. He finally convinced her to give him one more chance, promised her he’d never put her through anything like that again. Asked her to marry him—they’d already been engaged, but she called it off. All he needed was one more chance. He knew he wouldn’t blow that one. And he didn’t. They got married a couple of months before I was born, and they’ve been happily married ever since.”

  “Was it a condition for her that he not be a part of your life, or…?”

  Hunter shakes his head, looking down at his plate. “I don’t know. It may have started out that way. He wouldn’t have told me if it did. Wouldn’t have wanted me to hold it against her. Which I wouldn’t have,” he adds with a shrug. “I get it. Especially when it was fresh, they probably needed to pretend I didn’t exist. Their relationship needed to be repaired. Even if not for him loving her so much, she found out she was pregnant around the same time my mom realized she was, so it was a pretty big mess.”

  “Yikes.”

  Hunter nods. “Their eldest daughter was born a month after me. She’s pretty cool, I think you’d like her.”

  I smile. “I’m sure I would.”

  “They had two daughters, so I’m the only son, even if I’m illegitimate. Since my mom was a model and—not to be an asshole—I got some of her looks, they discovered I photograph pretty well. My dad had this clothing line. He put some of the clothes on me and tried me out on their social media, and… the rest is history.”

  I stab another piece of steak. “So, they kind of warmed up to you after it became clear you could benefit them in some way.”

  “Kinda,” he says, shrugging.
“But it’s whatever. It’s a warmer response than I ever expected, you know? And like I said, it turns out he did have some things in place for me once I came of age, I just didn’t know he did.”

  I nod. “So, is it public knowledge that you’re his son? I tried to Google it, but I couldn’t find anything. I can’t read Italian, though, so I wasn’t sure if maybe it just wasn’t news here.”

  Hunter shakes his head. “Not openly, no. It’s mainly for legal reasons. Technically, since I was born a month before his daughter, I’m the oldest of his children. I’m a bastard, but I’m also a male, so… Just to keep things friendly and make it clear I’m not trying to take anything from his legitimate heirs, we’re not making it public knowledge that I’m his son.”

  I frown faintly. “Got it. Are you still going to model for his line, or was that just while you were in Italy?”

  “Yeah, I’m still gonna do that for now. The line belongs to him, but I’m the face of it. I even took over running the social media because he wasn’t getting much engagement with what he was doing before. When my photos started getting attention, I asked him to let me give it a try, and when I took over, things picked up. I wrapped up my last shoot in Venice over the summer before I came back here, but I have some more travel coming up. I was actually going to talk to you about that.”

  “Venice, Italy? Was it beautiful? I’d love to go there someday.”

  He shakes his head. “Venice, California. He does business in the states, too. But I do have to fly back to Italy to do another shoot over spring break.” He looks up at me. “I want you to go with me.”

  My heart drops. “Go with you? To Italy?”

  He nods. “It’ll be like a vacation. I have to do the shoot, but after that, we’ll still be in Italy. The shoot’s in Capri, but we can go anywhere we want. I could show you my father’s house in Umbria. We could do some sightseeing in Rome. If your heart’s set on Venice, we could do Venice instead. It is better to go to Venice in spring than summer. Venice is hot as balls and just as smelly in the summertime.”