Page 26 of Sapphire Sunset

“We’re not arguing, but I’m asking you. Plainly, for once,maybe because you’re a college graduate now and days away from plowingheadfirst into the family business, whereupon your Uncle Rodney will become adaily part of your life and not just a racist, drunken Thanksgivingembarrassment. Is a life at Sapphire Cove what you want?”

“I love Sapphire Cove,” Connor said.

“But will you love running it?”

“That’s a long way off, Mother.”

“Precisely. So do you love it enough to answer to your uncleuntil then?” she asked.

“I knew you were concerned, but I didn’t know you were thisconcerned.”

“Connor, I’m only concerned about one thing. That you seethis as a choice and not an inevitability. You have opportunities andprivileges I never had, and I want it that way. Because you’ve earned them.You’re not some lazy, rehab-bound wastrel we need to keep on a tight leash.You’re my smart, beautiful, talented only child, and I want you to swing forthe fences.”

“I love Sapphire Cove.”

His mother studied him, nodded, then chewed her salad likethere was glue in the dressing.

But the words that followed him home thatafternoon wereswing for the fences.

Just another way of saying follow your dreams.

And while he knew it was too dramatic, even for him, to referto Logan Murdoch as a dream—dreamy, perhaps—Connor felt like his mother’sexhortation to take risky choices with confidence might be precisely what heneeded to get his finger tapping across the screen of his iPhone so he couldturn Logan’s annoying thumbs-up into something more promising.

He’d spent almost an hour typing absolutely nothing when theapartment door flew open and Naser screamed, “I’M A FILTHY WHORE.”

“What is wrong with you?” Connor snapped.

“Call a priest,” Naser moaned. “I need to be cleansed.”

“You’re Zoroastrian.”

“Mymotheris Zoroastrian. But they have priests.Call them all. Every religion. I want to cover all bases.”

“Well, apparently you did last night. With two pitchers.”

“You shame me because the taste of my pain pleases you,” Nasergroaned into a sofa pillow, then he pulled it over his face and rolled overonto his back.

“And apparently it was aGame of Thronesthemedthree-way.” Connor approached the sofa, channeling his best Dixie Carter at theend of aDesigning Womenepisode, figuring it wouldeffectthe right change of tone. “Naser, enough. I’m notdoing three-way shame with you again. I have only one thing to say about any ofthis. You need to stop trying to have a sex life that your mother will approveof. I can tell you right now there is no version of butt sex with another guythat will makeMahinKazemisit up and cheer.”

Naser lowered the pillow and gave Connor a look like he’dlet out a series of almond butter farts. “Did you actually put my mother andbutt sex in the same sentence?”

“Don’t deflect. They’re linked in your mind, not mine, andthat’s why you always beat yourself up over harmless fun. Okay. Now that yourproblem is solved”—Connor held up a warning finger—“and make no mistake, I havesolvedit, Naser, I need you to shut up for like an hour and listen towhat happened to me last night after you guys left.”

“Anhour? Oh my God, what did you do? Travel toNarnia?” Then Naser’s eyes widened with recognition, and he shot up to a seatedposition. “Wait. Logan? Lovely Logan?”

“I think we agreed on Luscious Logan, but they’re bothterrible, so let’s be done with them. Sit back. It’s story time.”

This time, he told the whole story. This time, he includedall the nitty-gritty details, and by the end of it, Naser was glaze-eyed andslack-jawed.

“Text him, you idiot,” Naser whispered.

“Wait, what?”

“Text him right now, Connor.”

“He thumbs-upped me, Naser. What should I say?”

“I don’t care. Text him an ass shot with the words OPEN 24/7above it.”