“I don’t think I’ll be doing much in the way of retail therapy.”

“Mom didn’t know…” His voice trailed away.

I took a bite of my salad. “Transfer from Columbia to Savannah Law or drop out all together.” My voice raised an octave, mimicking my mother’s. “It is truly unnecessary for a Montague woman to work.”

The light brown of Patrick’s eyes clouded.

“Oh, and marry Bryce Spencer and carry on the bloodline. Chop-chop… make some babies.”

“Are they fuck’n nuts?”

I laughed. “Don’t we both know the answer to that question?”

His expression perked up. “But you’re here.” Then he added suspiciously, as if the thought just occurred to him, “You’re not here to complete transfer papers or withdraw, are you?”

My lips pursed tight as my head swayed side to side.

“So you told them to fuck off?”

“I left after they told me my trust fund was being held hostage.”

“Hostage? They can’t do that. Can they?”

“Alton was citing clauses. Something about it covering undergraduate, but not graduate school and expenses. I didn’t look at the paperwork. I couldn’t stay in that place one minute more. All I know is that my trust fund is gone. I can access the account online and it’s been closed.”

He leaned back his chair, pushing off with his arms. The action caused his biceps to budge from the edge of his short-sleeved shirt. “Nothing? They left you with nothing?”

I just nodded as I took another bite. The salad was fantastic.

Patrick stood and paced, his hand going though his thinning hair. “Why would the powerful Fitzgeralds want everyone to know they’d let you go to New York with nothing?”

“I don’t think they expected me to leave. I think this is what my mom meant when she said her father didn’t want her going away. The way they see it, I had my chance—more of a chance than she did. I had four years in California. Now I owe them and the Montague name my life.” I spoke louder. “My body and my soul.”

He sat back down and gestured around the room. “This place… well, it’s Cy’s. His name is Cyrus. You probably figured that out, that I didn’t just win the lottery.”

I grinned. “It’s pretty high rent for an intern.”

“He’ll be home later tonight. I don’t know about a three-year commitment, but I’m sure he won’t mind you staying here for a little while. He knows people. He might be able to help.”

A seed of hope burst in my chest. It was small and in need of tending, but it was there. “Thank you. If he’ll do that for your cousin who you haven’t seen in nearly five years, I’d say you did win the lottery.”

Patrick smiled and it did my heart good. I’d seen that smile before. I’d worn it. Whoever this Cy was, he made Patrick happy.

“I hate that I need help,” I went on. “The thing is that I’m willing to work, but I’m not willing to miss this chance at law school, at Columbia.”

His gaze lightened. “Let me talk to him. In the meantime, let’s go for a walk across the park and find your apartment building. I need to know how long it’ll take me on Saturdays to get over there and wake your ass up. Cy hates to run and I love it. I need a running partner.”

WE WERE BACK at Patrick’s place and I was back on the barstool watching him cook something that smelled like heaven. He’d chopped and measured and never once used a recipe. There were three pans on the stovetop with sauces that made my mouth water. In the oven was a beef something or other. It even had little leaves stuck to it with little pin things. It looked like it belonged in a Martha Stewart cookbook.

“Where did you learn how to cook?” I asked, swirling the wine around my glass.

He scrunched his brow. “Are you saying you don’t think it was from my mom?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Aunt Gwen is more domestic than Adelaide, but that just means she knows where the kitchen is located without directions.”

His laughter rumbled through the air. He really was handsome in a very non-rugged sort of way.

We’d spent most of the afternoon walking and talking. Central Park was beautiful. If I could make this work, I wanted to be Patrick’s running partner. I wanted to get to know my way around the paths and roads. I’d been there before, but each time I was struck by the tranquility of nature that was surrounded by one of the biggest cities in the world. I don’t think people who haven’t actually walked the paths, or had only seen it in movies or TV, had any idea of the true splendor.

We found my apartment building. By going through the park or along the north edge, it was about a ten- to fifteen-minute walk from here. If only life were simple and I knew for certain I would be moving to that little one-bedroom in another week.

“So what did you think about your building?” Patrick asked as he refilled our glasses.

As I reached for mine, my eyes lit up. It wasn’t the wine, but the location of my building. “Oh my gosh. I couldn’t believe it when we turned that corner.”

Patrick laughed. “Only you would sublet an apartment online that’s right by Tom’s Restaurant.”

“I recognized it right away. I’ve seen it a thousand times in reruns. It’s the one from Seinfeld.”

“Well, that settles it. Saturday mornings, you and I go for a run, and then we eat breakfast with Jerry and the gang.”

I shrugged and sipped the tart pinot grigio. It was a little better quality than what I’d had the night before. “If you’re buying, I’m eating. At least then I’ll have one meal a week.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dramatic much?”

“Sometimes.” I thought about the apartment. “When I did my search, I was looking for places close to the campus. I knew the park was close. I had no idea.”

Just then the front door opened and we both turned that direction.

“Cy,” Pat whispered.

“Really?” I asked with a smirk. “I thought maybe strangers come in your place without knocking.”

The footsteps neared and a handsome, distinguished man walked in, wearing a suit. I’m not sure if he was what I expected, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He had gray around his temples and peppered through his black hair. He was taller than Patrick, and his face held the lines of someone who spent his time thinking.

“Hello,” he greeted. Walking up to Patrick he leaned over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “This smells fantastic.” He turned to me. “You must be Alexandria.”

I smiled. “I am.”

“She goes by Alex now,” Patrick corrected.

“Alex, nice to meet you.” He reached for my hand. His grip was firm and hands soft.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Cyrus. Thank you for allowing me to stay here for a few nights.”

“It’s Cy, and any cousin of Pat’s is a cousin of mine.”

“Oh,” I asked, ashamed I hadn’t thought of it before. “Are you married?”

The two exchanged a grin that made my tummy flip, and then Cy poured himself a glass of wine and loosened his tie. “No, we aren’t married, but if Patrick says you need a place to stay, I believe him.

“Excuse me for a minute while I get into something a little less stuffy. I can’t wait to get to know you, Alex.” He turned toward Patrick. “And I can’t wait to eat whatever that is you have cooking. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

I looked away as they shared another look. It was as if I were the third wheel with two honeymooners. And while it made me happy for Patrick, it also made me a little sad for myself. After Cy walked away, Patrick looked at me with a so-what-do-you-think? look.

I lifted my glass. He did the same, as I professed, “To you. I approve.”

“Whoa, I’m so glad. I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

I’d forgotten how easy banter was between Patrick and me. We had always gotten along. That may be why the rumors of him at academy bothered me. The guy the girls described wasn’t the cousin I knew.