Page 42 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
The name on the screen is Hayes.
“I’ll take this outside.” He gets up and excuses himself, leaving me alone and confused.
After about twenty minutes, I’m feeling rattled. Where is he? It’s dark outside, but Hart doesn’t seem to be on the porch, so I’m guessinghe went over to talk to his cousin in person. I decide to go get ready for bed, changing into sleep shorts and an oversize sweatshirt. Then I brush my teeth and go into my bedroom and close the door, wondering what pulled him away so suddenly.
In the morning, a shirtless Hart is up early, preparing coffee and blending protein shakes in the kitchen. A pair of gym shorts hangs low on his hips, and the expanse of his wide chest and flat stomach is enough to distract me from the weird ending to our night.
“Morning,” I say, taking a seat at the counter and struggling to keep my eyes to myself.
“Morning.” He smiles. “Coffee?”
Rather than discuss what happened last night, Hart places a mug of steaming coffee in front of me and begins rattling off options for our day together. I told him I need to leave early the following morning, so this is our last day together for who knows how long.
“I’m sorry I had to deal with something last night,” he offers, looking tense.
“Is everything okay?”
He nods. “It’s fine. My cousin is a jackass.” It’s not an explanation, but I don’t want to pry, sensing he’ll open up and tell me if he decides to.
“That night we first met in Florence ... Hayes is the cousin who slept with your girlfriend?”
He nods. “Sophia wasn’t what I’d consider a girlfriend, but yes, we were seeing each other and I thought it was exclusive. Apparently she didn’t care which of us she ended up with, so long as his last name was Winthrop.”
It’s clear how much that stung. And I could see how that would make a person feel irrelevant, replaceable—which was how he described one of his biggest fears when we shared our secrets that night at the hotel bar. I wasn’t quite so open.
He sets a glass containing a protein smoothie in front of me, and I try a sip. It’s good. “Are you close with your parents?” I ask him, watching the way he skirts topics concerning his family—like it makes him uncomfortable.
“Yeah. Not really. Sometimes things seem so scripted with them—rehearsed. It makes it hard for me to trust people’s true intentions.”
That must be hard. Especially for someone like him who seems to lay all his cards on the table.
“I think that’s why I was so taken by you that day in Nairobi. You were so determined, and brilliant and capable. Night and day from the high-maintenance, pampered types I’m constantly surrounded by. They rarely lift a finger and would despise getting dirty.”
It’s true that I’ve never been accused of being high maintenance. “I like being pampered sometimes.”
He laughs. “Noted.”
After we’ve both showered and dressed for the day, a driver picks us up in a private black SUV. We decide to visit a few wineries and do some window-shopping along First Street.
Later the driver takes us to a grassy spot—it’s the perfect lookout to appreciate the rolling hills of his family’s vineyard.
He pulls a tote bag from the back of the SUV.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“You’ll see.” He joins me on the blanket I’ve spread out and pulls a mini charcuterie board from the bag, wrapped in layers of plastic to hold everything in place—cheeses and sliced strawberries, a pile of crackers, grapes, olives, and cashews.
I dig in right away, popping a cube of semisoft cheese into my mouth. “This is good.”
Hart uncorks a bottle of sparkling wine, and I fetch two glasses.
“And I got something else.” He grins. Then he pulls out a plastic bag of chocolate chip cookies tied with a ribbon.
“My hero.” I reach for them.
He shakes his head, keeping them just out of my reach. “These are going to cost you.”
“The price?”
