Perhaps it was silly. If he picked a side and sucked up to one of his parents, they’d probably send him money for a down payment. But they’d also take that as a sign that the expense they’d put toward his education had been as wasted as they claimed it would be. Bollocks to that. Maybe Rowan hadn’t become a tech-bro billionaire or a venture capitalist, but he had a respectable job that he liked and that let him put down roots in a place he loved.
Or at least it wouldeventuallylet him do that, if he ever managed to get a permanent position at the library.
“What about a loan, then?” Gem tapped her nails on her wineglass. “I know you’re saving up to get your own place. I’ll float you the down payment—”
“Gem—”
“—you pay the mortgage, and you can pay me back afterward.”
For a moment Rowan was honestly tempted. That was a reasonable offer. It would get him out of his admittedly terrible apartment sooner rather than later.
But it negated half the point of the exercise, which was to prove to the ghost of his parents—okay, to himself—that he didn’t need anyone’s help. That he could be successful as alibrarian.
God damn it.
He sighed. “I know you’re worried about me, but I’m honestly fine. I might not be living the lifestyle Young Rowan was accustomed to, but there are plenty of people worse off than me, and they get by fine.” For varying degrees offine, some of which were, admittedly, not. “If I were that fussed about it, I’d look for somewhere with a roommate. Then I could afford to live aboveground for the same price.”
“Yes, whydidn’tyou do that? You could probablysavemoney, even.”
Rowan was too embarrassed to admit that he’d been so excited to leave the UK—and the reminder that even his parents didn’t care for his company—that he’d leased the place sight unseen and had simply been too lazy to look for somewhere else to live every time his lease came up for renewal. At least the landlord hadn’t raised the rent, which he understood was a rarity. “And have someone mad at me every time I had a boyfriend? A man needs some privacy, Gemma.”
“God.” Gem set down her wineglass and stretched out in the chair. Rowan might live in a shithole, technically, but he was great at buying quality furniture for cheap. Gem had offered him three times what he paid for that chair, but it was teal velvet and Rowan wasn’t giving it up. “If I’d known a roommate was all it would take to keep you from dating anthropomorphized sock lint, I’d have offered to live with you myself. In my apartment, of course.”
“At least I only sleep underground because I’m poor.”
Gem burst out laughing. She didn’t actually sleep in a coffin to avoid sunlight, but Rowan had made enough bloodsucking lawyer jokes that she made the connection anyway. “Fine, I concede this round. And because I’m such a gracious loser, and also I refuse to sit in this chair any longer if you won’t let me buy it, I’m taking you out to dinner.”
This was probably what she’d been angling for the whole time, but Rowan didn’t mind. A man had to eat to keep his strength up. Especially if a man was going to keep drinking wine with Gem all evening. “I accept your terms.” He let her pull him to his feet. “But nowhere I have to dress up.” Partly because he needed to do laundry. The spin cycle on the washer made the thing rattle so much the landlord had asked him not to use it after nine, and Rowan kept forgetting.
The guy should really get a handyman in.
“Don’t even tell me,” Gem said, apparently having deduced his objection didn’t actually have to do with the clothing. “It’ll only depress me.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Rowan allowed. “Now—Indian or Italian?”
They ended up sitting at a little café down the block, one Rowan had frequented enough times to be on a first-name flirtation basis with their server, Adrian. He ordered the chicken parm and another glass of red. Gem asked for the same buthad her meal boxed up to go because she had a thing about eating in public. She avoided it at her charity events by making the rounds to various tables and ensuring everyone else was enjoying themselves.
Surprisingly, she did indulge in the fresh bread with butter—usually an add-on, but Adrian dropped it off at their table with a wink for Rowan. “On the house.”
“You know how to treat a man,” Rowan said with gratitude. He needed something to soak up the wine. “What?” he added when Gem gave him the hairy eyeball.
Gem plucked a slice of bread from the basket and slathered it in butter. “Nothing.”
Nothing, Rowan’s right nut. “Please. I hope you’re a better liar than that in court.”
She rolled her eyes. She’d pointed out more than once that she wasn’t that kind of lawyer. “Getting back on the horse?”
“Horse?” Rowan craned his neck a bit to look after Adrian. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“Very funny.”
“Anyway,” Rowan went on as he snagged his own piece of bread, “I’ve told you, I’m not going around pining after a man who doesn’t date. Not after meeting him twice. No matter how pretty he is. Therefore, no falls from any horses to recover from. Which means I’m in the clear to flirt with Adrian.”
One day he’d have to flip the tables on her and ask about whyshedidn’t date, but he was having such a nice night. Watching his own intestines spill out onto the sidewalk would ruin it.
And itwasa nice evening. There was a bit of a breeze, the wine was good, Gem regaled him with redacted tales of idiot clients and Rowan responded with the latest library gossip. If he flirted with Adrian just a little harder than usual to make a point, that was between him and the gods.
Except it must’ve been more than a little harder than usual, because Adrian dropped off a little something extra with Rowan’s chicken parm. “I’m off in twenty,” he said under his breath, leaving a slip of paper with a ten-digit number next to Rowan’s napkin.
