Page 106 of Duke, Actually

“So it’s one in the morning, and you’ve called me to talk about something other than Max,” Leo said, with a hardness in his tone that was unusual. “Go ahead.”

“How was your honeymoon?” she asked weakly.

“I’m going back to bed. Call me later if you want to chat.”

“No! Wait.”

He waited, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know ifshecouldsay anything without crying.

He sighed, too, and when he spoke, he sounded softer, more like the Leo she knew. “If I had asked you, say, a year ago, when you were pretty much over Vince but he was dragging out the divorce, if you would ever consider another relationship, what would you have said?”

“A relationship that didn’t violate any of my list items?”

“Yes. A relationship that didn’t violate any of your list items.”

“I would have said maybe under very specific circumstances.”

“And what would those be?” he said with exaggerated patience, like he was talking to Gabby when she was getting hyper.

“They would be the circumstances dictated by the list, Leo.” She, by contrast, was sounding decidedly snippy. But honestly, Leo knew about the list. Why did he need this explained to him? “He would have to integrate into my life. Do things on my terms. I finally have everything arranged the way I want it. Career is good. I’m on track to get tenure. I can legit afford my apartment now that I’m renting it out every once in a while. Why would I give up any of that?”

“I know I’m supposed to issue a vaguely ‘You go, girl’ cheer, but maybe the answer is you would give that stuff up for something bigger.”

“Like what?”

“Love? Love that is not quantifiable in list format? Love for someone who doesn’t have the same flexibility in life that you do?”

“But I’m post-love. And Max is...” Devastated?

“Right.” Leo’s voice had lost its edge but had taken on a totally blank tone, which was somehow more upsetting than the exaggerated patience of a moment ago. “I gotta go. It’s onea.m.I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up on her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“I’m going to get a place in New York,” Max said. “A pied-á-terre.” He glanced at his father, who was sipping a digestif of kirsch. He didn’t react at all to the news, surprisingly.

“That’s a good idea,” his mother said absently as she picked at her torte—Max and Seb had decided Max should wait until dessert to make his big pronouncement, even though that meant Father would be deep in his cups. “What is that? An hour or two to New Haven?”

New Haven, Connecticut. Where Yale was.

Where Lavinia was.

Amusingly, his parents had bought their act at Marie’s wedding, which meant Max was in their good graces in a way he hadn’t been for years. Perhaps ever.

He could have jetted off to New York and they’d have been none the wiser. For now. But that would require pretending that everything was the same, that his confrontation with his mother the night of the wedding hadn’t meant anything. And everythinghis brother had said about not hiding, about freedom and happiness, was still rattling around inside him.

It was truth time. He huffed a quick, fortifying sigh. “There’s nothing between Lavinia and me. We were merely pretending to be enamored of each other so we could enjoy ourselves at the wedding free from your oversight. I’m getting a place in New York to be closer to Daniela Martinez.”If she’ll have me.But one thing at a time. And he was moving regardless.

“I forbid it,” Father said tersely.

All right, then. Max hadn’t really thought he would get away with simply stating his intention. Part of him didn’t want to. Time for a paternal reckoning. He turned to Mother. “Did you manage to get Father out of the wedding without my help—and without embarrassing the family name?”

“Max!” his mother exclaimed while his father rumbled with anger.

Ignoring her, he turned to his father. “I know how much you care about how everyone in this family behaves. The ironic part is that you’re the embarrassment. And I’m not just talking about your drunken scenes. You are a monster. You’ve spent my entire life hurting me. You’ve spentourentire lives”—he gestured to Seb—“Hurting us.”

“You will never see another cent from me, boy.” Father spoke quietly, which was a bit surprising, but his eyes were bulging and his face was red.