Page 117 of Hell Bent
Not the best soothing-girlfriend talk, probably, but like I said—as an NFL girlfriend, I didn’t exactly meet the mark.
Did this count as stepping up? Probably not.
46
DOING ROMANCE RIGHT
Sebastian
I said, “Boy, you sure know how to make a guy feel better.”
“It’s a gift,” she said, and I couldn’t help smiling. I also added, “But you’re still wrong.”
She said, “Look. We have a few hours. The chef hasn’t even finished our dinner yet, and there’s no movie. Let me help you figure out how to get OK with the Harlan thing.”
“That’s the only option, getting OK with it?” I said. “That is not the only option.” I shouldn’t be thinking about myself. I should be thinking about Solange, but what would I think? “I’m sorry she’s dying?” Well, obviously. “I’m sorry Ben has to go through this, because it’s going to suck?” Ditto.
“All right,” Alix said. “I’m going to help you get started right now. Call it brainstorming. First, I’m going to remind you that you’re not a lone wolf anymore, because you’ve got Ben now. You have Lexi, too, for that matter. You’re practically a suburban dad. Your mind just hasn’t quite caught up to your life.”
“And there’s you, of course,” I said.
She waved a hand. “I don’t count. I’m a girlfriend. Funnyhow girlfriends never count, huh? Like, you can rely on me, you just can’tthinkabout relying on me. You have to tell yourself that I’m relying onyou.”
“Hey,” I said.
“If the shoe fits,” she said. “Though I’m not sure how you get past me going with you to Vancouver. I’ll let you pay for some more stuff. How about that?”
I rubbed my face, and she said, “If it’s too much, talking to me, I’ll go sit up front with Ben. I do seem to have a problem doing romance right.”
“But then,” I said, “so do I.” And took her hand. That felt good, so I kept holding it. “I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for coming. Guess I could start by saying that.”
Her face softened, getting that sweet princess look. “And I couldn’t be anywhere else. So, hey. What could you do for Harlan that wouldn’t make you feel so much in his debt?”
I shrugged. “He asked me to help Annabelle with her soccer. Not exactly worth tens of thousands.”
“Is that what this costs? Tens of thousands? OK, I can see how that might instill a sense of obligation. But first—weren’t you paid millions to play soccer?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And private coaching from an elite soccer pro isn’t worth anything?”
“Not that much, it’s not,” I said. “Not to me.”
“So you need to somehow feel like you’ve reimbursed Harlan,” she said, “without reimbursing Harlan and insulting him.”
“You said that, not me. I still think I should reimburse him.”
She stared ahead of her, frowning, turning the wine glass in her hand, and I sat back, took a sip of beer, and watched the wheels turn. I was kind of fascinated, to tell you the truth. Where would she go next?
She asked, “What does he care about?”
I blinked. “What? Pretty obvious. His wife. His family.”
“No. What else?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He doesn’t share that much.”
“Right, then. This plane has to have wi-fi.” She pulled out her phone. “Time to research.”
