Love Like Her (Against All Odds #3) - Claudia Y. Burgoa Page 0,6
prominent, like one of those residences used as a movie set. I always imagined that New Yorkers lived in tiny apartments. I guess it’s all about perception and listening to people complain about their rooms being as big as a closet or not owning much furniture because their stuff doesn’t fit.
“Where is Gil?” I ask, hoping that there’s not another guy in this place.
He shrugs. “Somewhere around the world, digging while making a documentary,” he states. “It’s funny how before when I traveled with my parents, I practically saw him every day. Now that I’m in one place, his house of all places, I haven’t seen him in two years. Unlike my parents, he continues working. His life is his work.”
I look around, trying to find something that says this apartment belongs to Gil. It seems more like a cool museum where everything is out on display and available to the touch. Finally, when I get to what I assume is some sort of office, I find several pictures. There are a few of them with him and a boy. When Eros enters, I show him one of them and ask, “Is this his son?”
“No, that’s me,” he answers.
He scans the pictures and shows me another one of Gil with two girls that look a lot alike. They are about five or maybe six.
“These two monsters are my sisters,” he explains.
“Nyx and Persy,” I assume.
He nods. “Gil is part of our family. He is Dad’s best friend. When I got accepted to Columbia, he offered to pay my tuition and to use his apartment. Unlike him, my parents don’t have much. I accepted subleasing this place. My parents would be offended if he paid for my college, but they’re fine if I live in his house for almost nothing.”
This Gil guy looks so happy in all the pictures. I point at a man who looks a lot like Eros but a few years older. He’s with Gil and Eros. “Your Dad?”
“Yep. Octavio Brassard.”
“Does Gil have a family?”
“His parents died when he was in college,” Eros explains. “He’s relied on his friends all his life. We’re his family.”
“No wife, boyfriend… he’s just alone?”
“Why do you sound so baffled about his relationship status?”
I shrug. “He sounds like an interesting person. I feel like he should have someone to be there for him. A person that will pack her things and travel with him to the end of the world.”
“It feels weird that you’re romanticizing his life,” he states.
“Maybe it comes from living with a mother who keeps kissing toads in hopes of finding her temporary prince. She’s not a fan of the soul mate theory,” I explain. “A part of me wishes she’d find just one guy and settle in with him. Like Dad did.”
“Why did your parents divorce?”
“Dad was in love with someone else,” I answer the short version.
“People shouldn’t marry just because it is logical. They should do it because it feels right,” I say out loud. “You should be with the person you can’t live without because they complete you in a way that no one else does.”
“You sound pretty passionate about it,” he states. “Why don’t we go to the kitchen while you tell me more about this love theory? I’m starving.”
“I could use some food.”
The kitchen is not much different from the apartment. It’s spacious, modern with earth tone tiles, state-of-the-art appliances, and dishes that could be dated to pre-colonial times.
Eros opens the stainless steel refrigerator. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“Water is fine,” I say. “How can I help?”
“What would you like to eat?”
“I’d love a grilled cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup,” I say, hopeful.
He opens the door next to the stove, opens it, and pulls out a can. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect.”
I’m grateful that he has all the ingredients to make my favorite comfort food. I take over the kitchen and start cooking. Once I’m done, I plate the sandwiches, serve the soup in a couple of bowls, and set the small kitchen table.
“This looks delicious,” he says, setting a couple of water glasses next to our food. “Are grilled sandwiches your specialty,” Eros asks.
I cock an eyebrow, wondering what he means. “You seemed so excited about preparing them.”
The memory of learning how to make them draws a big smile on my face. “Dan taught me how to cook simple things when I was young. I guess it was a way to bond.”