Page 186 of Share with Me

Ivan nodded.I should have held her by my side throughout the funeral. She cried alone.

“I think I saw her.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now. But for a couple of months it seemed we had known each other all our lives and were meant to be together.”

“How long have you known her?”

“I’ve seen her at various SISO events on and off for about a year before we started going out. We would say hello and no more. She had always been with someone.” Ivan himself was dating Emmeline at that time. “We met up again in December when she came alone to her sister’s birthday party.”

“Something happened?”

“We clicked over Bach.” Ivan regretted it now. He should’ve had more self-control.

“Clicked?”

“We were clearly attracted to each other.” Ivan recalled that Thursday night when he had almost kissed Brinley when he walked her home. “Love came later.”

“How much later?”

Ivan shrugged. “She kept coming over to have tea with Grandma and it just happened.”

“What just happened?”

Walks. Talks. Kisses. Hugs. More kisses.

“I wrote her a song. She didn’t—doesn’t—know it’s for her.”

“That serious, huh? Does she know that if you wrote her a song you’re in too deep? You didn’t write a song for Gemma.”

“Gemma? She’s ancient history, Will.”

“Six or seven years ago. Not too long.”

Gemma was Ivan’s last serious girlfriend. Anyone he had dated between Gemma and Brinley hadn’t been serious prospects. Not even Emmeline.

“Brin—Brinley is—was—different.”

“I’m sorry.” Willow drank water.

“Sorry? For what?”

“Your tenses, Ivan. You can’t decide if she’s in the past or still in the present. You can’t decide if you should call her Brin or Brinley.”

“I guess she’s Brinley now. Only her close family members call her Brin.” Ivan ate silently. Then: “I love her, Will.”

“Have you told her?”

“I can’t.”

“Because?”

“I can’t afford to love her.” He knew Willow was studying him, thinking about what to tell him. She’d always been like that. Maybe she had something to say he should hear. He waited.

“Is she high maintenance?” Willow asked. “Help me understand who this woman is.”

“She’s an heiress. Billions to her name.” Ivan got up and cleared the table. He loaded the dishwasher with his right hand.Thank God for dishwashers.

“Oh, I see. To her, a five-million-dollar Strad is pocket change. Something like that?”

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