How to Date a Millionaire (14 page)

After the quickest bag pack and shower ever, Marc and I catch the subway up to the Upper West Side to Barney Greengrass, then grab a cab, juggling our paper bags and coffees as we cut through the park to get over to the hospital on Fifth.

We get to Holly's room on the dot of 9.30 am. The place is full (and I mean
full
as in ‘crammed onto every
available surface' full) of gigantic bunches of flowers. Dad is sitting in the chair I'd spent what felt like half my life waiting in yesterday, holding something white with big pink stars on it and Holly is in bed holding something else white, but with big blue stars on it.

Babies!!!

Wrapped up babies!!!

‘Let me guess,' Marc says, picking his way through the flowers to give Holly a kiss. ‘B,' he points at Holly's blue-starred parcel, ‘and G,' he points at Dad's pink-starred one, leaning over the bed to shake his hand. ‘Congrats!'

‘Smart boy!' Holly laughs. ‘You must be related to me. And where's my sister?' she asks after Marc's mum, a surgeon, who's been working with
Medecins Sans Frontieres
for a couple of years now.

‘Making her way over from Sri Lanka with Dad.'

‘Oh, lovely. I can't wait to see them both. It's been too long. Nessa? Nessa, are you okay there, honey?'

Babies!!!

Wrapped up babies!!!

Like an idiot, I'm still standing in the doorway, my mouth hanging open.

Babies!!!

Right. So I guess I'm having a hard time getting my head around this whole big sister thing.

Marc comes over and takes the bags and coffees from my hands. ‘Before you hurt yourself,' he tells me, giving me a brotherly pat on my shoulder. ‘Maybe you should sit down?'

‘Wait …' Holly sits up a bit. ‘Is that …? Can I smell …?'

Marc shrugs. ‘Maybe it's a bit of lox, a bit of cream cheese, a few capers. You never know.'

Holly groans. ‘If I could move without having to take a bag full of my own urine with me, I'd wrestle you to the floor for those goodies.'

Marc laughs. ‘Well, it's a good thing you don't have to then, isn't it?' He goes over and places the bag and coffees on the table that's been wheeled over Holly's bed.

‘Nooooo!' I say and, as if in slow motion, race across the room and grab the tray of coffees. I give Marc a filthy look as I remove it. ‘What are you thinking? Not near B! He could knock it over and burn himself!'

Marc, Holly and Dad all give me an ‘are you crazy?'
look, before turning to look at B – sound asleep, with his arms held tightly inside his groovy muslin wrap.

‘Well, it's good practice for later,' I grumble as everyone laughs at me.

‘You're right, Nessa,' Holly says, when they're done making fun of me. ‘That was very sensible of you.'

Time to change the topic of conversation I think. And, now I've had my outburst, I'm feeling a little more normal and less ‘Babies!!! Wrapped up babies!!!'. I set the coffees down safely on Holly's side table and sit on the end of her bed. ‘So, no names yet?'

Holly shakes her head. ‘We haven't had time. We've been asleep and so have they.'

‘Oh.' Nervously, I inch my way up the bed so I can take a peep at B's face. And I'm just about there when Holly speaks again.

‘Well, are you going to hold him, then? He's waiting.'

I stop breathing and freeze. ‘Hold him?' I take a look now I'm further up the bed. How can I hold him? He's tiny. Sooooo tiny. And gorgeous. My half-brother's gorgeous! How about that?

‘Go on,' Holly nudges me, holding B out.

I pause. ‘But what if I drop him, or if I've got a cold, or …'

‘Nessa,' Holly smiles at me. ‘You'll be fine. You're his sister. You have to hold him. He'd
want
you to.'

I look back at B, who's still sound asleep. He'd want me to? I guess I'd better hold him then. I mean, maybe dropping him or colds are the least of my worries. What if I didn't hold him and then, later on, he was scarred for life? How would I deal with that?

‘Nessa, it's fine. Now, stop thinking and hold out your arms.'

‘Okay,' I say meekly and hold out my arms. And then, because I can't watch, I close my eyes.

‘Though keeping your eyes open would probably be a good idea,' Holly adds, as she places B in my arms.

‘Oh yeah. Right,' I say, opening them up just as B's soft weight settles into me. I look down at him and don't know what to say. Instead, this long, sighy ‘Ooooohhhhh' comes out of my mouth. And then another, ‘Ooooohhhhh'.

I don't know how long I sit there for, but after a while, my dad gets up and somehow manages to manoeuvre me into the chair I'd spent so long in yesterday. He places a
pillow under my arms, under B, and then tucks him into my left arm, so that my right arm is free. Then he places G in my right arm.

‘Ooooohhhhh,' I say again. ‘Ooooohhhhh.'

Babies are nice. Babies smell good. I like babies. And maybe, one day, I'll speak in sentences of more than three words again.

Maybe.

It's just that it's all a bit much to take in. B and G are so tiny, I feel like a giant. Like any move I make could crush them. And what Holly had said last night was true – they're both gorgeous and they both look like her. Not like Dad or me at all (and, unfortunately for me, I have to agree with him on this one – they're much better off this way).

I can't stop staring at them.

My head moves from one baby's face to the other. Kind of like baby Wimbledon. B. G. B. G. B … and when I turn back again, G opens her sleepy eyes up and looks straight at me (well, okay, in my general direction, anyway).

‘Hi, G!' I say and, on hearing her not-name, she does
the cutest little nuzzling thing into my arm and I honestly think my heart is going to break.

Ooooohhhhh. I love them already. They can mess up my room any time.

‘Do you have a short-list of names?' I hear Marc ask from across the room. ‘Somehow I don't think B and G are going to cut it in the real world.'

I glance up protectively. ‘They could. If they stood for something.'

‘Like?' Marc asks, his eyes laughing at me.

‘I don't know.' I look back down at them. ‘Like Bella. And George.' I expect everyone to have a good laugh at my names, except there's this overly long silence and I glance up again hesitantly thinking I've said something terrible.

But it doesn't look like it. The only thing Dad and Holly look is surprised.

‘George was on both our lists for B,' Holly says.

‘And Isabella was on Holly's for G,' Dad adds.

They glance at each other.

‘Well, that was easy,' Holly says, after a moment or two.

I start to panic again. ‘Nuh uh.' I shake my head hard. ‘You can't call them that just because I said so.'

‘What? Why not?' Holly asks, looking confused.

‘Because … because I can't take on that responsibility.'

‘Responsibility?' Dad says.

‘Yes!' I look up at him. ‘When they hate their names later on, and everyone does, it'll be my fault. Not yours!'

For the second time that day and about the millionth time in my whole life, everyone stares at me. And then, like they always do after they do the staring thing, they laugh.

Right. Fine then. Bella and George it is. I bend down and whisper to them. ‘Sorry I didn't warn you sooner, kids, but they're both weird. After you've finished with this hospital gig and we all go home, you're in for quite a ride.'

After a busy morning holding (and, um,
naming
) my siblings, scoffing down bagels and generally having the best time in a hospital I've ever had in my life (previous visits, mostly to see my mum, hadn't exactly been pleasant), Holly and Dad start to look tired again, so Marc and I decide to go home for a while. We make our way out to the front of the hospital and are greeted by bright sunshine, a gorgeous breeze and Central Park laid out before us. The perfect New York day.

‘How about we go for a walk first?' Marc turns to me. ‘There's actually something I've got to talk to you about.'

I eye him warily. Maybe it's not the perfect New York day after all.

‘What?' he says. ‘No lectures. And when have I ever lectured you in the past?'

I start to list the lectures I've had from Marc off on my fingers, before I stop. ‘Hang on, I'll just take off my shoes and keep counting.'

‘Very funny.'

We cross Fifth and enter Central Park, deciding to take a walk around East Meadow. We don't last long and end up sinking into the green grass in no time.

‘Man, it's such a perfect day.' Marc lies down and stares up at the sky.

Funny how I can't relax quite that much. ‘Is it going to stay that way?' I ask.

‘Oh yeah, sorry.' He sits himself up a bit, resting on his elbows. ‘I didn't want to bring it up before. Not when we had better things to do. It's about Seth.'

Now I'm really on guard. ‘Seth? What about him?'

Marc sits up fully, his legs stretched out in front of him. ‘I spoke to him. He told me everything.'

‘Everything?' I try not to gulp. Everything meaning Holly loved his screenplay and optioned it on the spot, or everything meaning everything
everything
, including his
dodgy Hawaiian screenplay pushing and his fake heart transplant. Not to mention our kissing in front of, most likely, underage creatures of the sea.

‘Yes.
Everything
,' Marc replies, reading my mind.

Yikes.

When I pull myself back together, I snort a nice little half-snort. ‘So, did you do the big-brotherly thing and throttle him for me?'

Marc's eyebrows raise. ‘Well, I was going to. Until he begged me to let him explain.'

‘Oh yes. He tried that on me too.'

‘And did you listen?'

‘Not after the bit about his heart being in perfect ticking order, no.'

Marc sighs. ‘Yeah, well, I can understand that.'

Again, I eye him warily. ‘Mmm.'

Silence.

For about five seconds. ‘So what did he say?' Damn. I just couldn't help myself.

Marc gives me a look. ‘I thought you might ask that.'

Surprise surprise. I did too.

And so, for the next five minutes, Marc fills me in on Seth's side of the story.

He tells me about how Seth was supposed to be spending Spring Break at his apartment in LA alone, writing, but how Jason and Connor kept turning up and interrupting every time they had the tiniest piece of news about their screenplay. At the last minute, he decided to escape to his father's Waikiki penthouse, unknowingly bumping people out who'd arranged to rent it. When he got to Honolulu and spoke to reception, he realised what had happened. It had been then that he'd spotted the name on the booking form. Holly Isles. The next time Jason and Connor called, he mentioned in passing that Holly and her crew had been bumped from the apartment and were staying elsewhere in the building. Jason and Connor arrived, uninvited, the next day. Their bags were packed mostly not with gear to wear to a luau, but with copies of the screenplay they hoped they could leave on Holly's breakfast tray, under her cocktails and inside her pillow-case. They'd spent their flight over scheming, and Seth ended up trying to distance himself from their plans from the time the pair passed over his pineapple-shaped (okay,
not really) doormat. They'd spent most of their Hawaiian Spring Break fighting with each other.

Slowly, as I listen to Marc, I realise everything he's saying is true. I even remember parts of the fight that Alexa, Nat and I had accidentally overheard (fine, deliberately switched off the spa in order to overhear) between Seth and the other two boys upstairs that day. What had we heard? Something about something being ‘disgusting' and something else about someone going too far. And about making things right. It had been Seth's voice saying all those things. He must have been trying to convince Jason and Connor to come clean. Yeah, well, not likely.

So much for my perfect New York day.

‘Sorry to be such a downer, Ness.' Marc pulls me in sideways for a quick hug. ‘But I thought you'd want to know I'd spoken to him. He's really sorry. For everything. The thing with Seth is he's a pretty quiet guy. Put in that kind of situation, I think he probably just panicked and didn't know what to tell you. And the longer it went on and the better he knew you, the more he had to lose, so the harder it got to tell you anything at all. He never really lied to you. Not that it makes any of this better, of
course. Like I said, I just thought you'd want to know what he told me.'

‘Yeah,' I say quietly, thinking. Again, this is all true. Because, while I still feel hurt, I realise Marc's right. Seth never really did lie to me. Instead, he concealed the truth. Not much better, but I can see where Marc's coming from. Seth
is
a pretty quiet kind of guy. And put in that situation, who wouldn't panic? I know I would. Especially if I was put in that situation and had met someone … someone who meant something to me and who I didn't want to let go of. And that I knew I'd probably lose forever the moment I told them what was going on behind the scenes.

Hmmm.

And just when I think I'm feeling about as low as I can go, Marc asks me the kicker question.

‘I guess he's a lot like you, Ness,' he says quietly. ‘I mean, have you ever been in a situation you felt you couldn't get out of?'

I lie back on the grass dramatically when I hear this. Oh. Ow. Stab me through the heart, why don't you?

Because, of course, the answer to that question is ‘yes'. Fine. More like ‘YES'. Like I said, there was the time
I tried to get Holly to fall in love with a paparazzo (instead of, um, my dad). And there was the time I desperately tried to make sure Dad and Holly's wedding would go ahead (which it probably would have anyway, despite Holly's ex-fiancé's Jason-and-Connor-like scheming). And there was the time … okay let's not go there. If I listed them all we'd be here till midnight and I have a meeting with a cute pair of twins in the morning I need my beauty sleep for.

Marc looks over at me. ‘Jason can be a pretty overbearing guy. It's hard to say no to him.'

‘I know. Believe me, I know.'

‘Seth really is sorry, you know. The guy's a mess. He must really like you, huh?'

‘Oh.' I sit up, thinking I'm not quite sure what to say to this. Seth's a mess? Because of me?

Marc looks away. ‘He's here, you know. He came back to New York for the rest of the break, to see his dad. He lives right … there.' He points up and out of the park to a penthouse apartment on Fifth. ‘You know, if I called him now, he'd probably come straight down. In fact, I know he would. He's sort of waiting.'

I stare up at the apartment Marc's pointing out. ‘Right up there, huh? Waiting?'

‘Yep. Right up there. Waiting.'

Hmmm. I keep staring. ‘I guess you could call him. Maybe. I suppose. You know, if he's waiting and all.'

Marc laughs. ‘That's a “yes”, then?'

I nod, my heart already thumping in my chest, talking to me. ‘Yes.'

‘Okay then. I'll push off and call him as I go. How about dinner tonight to celebrate the twins? Anywhere you like. Just us.'

I smile up at Marc, who's standing now and offering me a hand. ‘That'd be nice,' I tell him as he pulls me up beside him. ‘How about the good old Tribeca Grill?'

‘I'll book.' He leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. ‘See you in a few hours, huh?'

I watch him as he turns to go. Just as he's leaving, he turns back again and calls out to me. ‘It's a good day today, Ness. A good day.'

Despite my mixed feelings, I smile a smile back that just keeps on widening. It
is
a good day. We're in Central Park. It's spring. It's nice and cool and beautifully sunny.
I have a brother and a sister. And an older brother-type guy who's not really related to me but we get along just the same and tonight he'll take me out for dinner and we'll have a ball together (plus, hopefully, the warm apple tart with sticky bun ice-cream for dessert).

It doesn't get much better than this.

It's a perfect day.

Almost like we're in a movie.

Beep beep! My cell phone wriggles in my back pocket. I pull it out to see a text from Nat.

I laugh, thinking of what Alexa's going to say. A brand new Marilyn Monroe convert. Who would have thought? I text Nat back immediately with all my favourites and then tuck my cell back in my jeans.

Now, what was I thinking about? Oh yes. How it's a perfect day. Maybe even
the
perfect day of Spring Break …

Almost too good to be true.

So when, a few minutes later, I catch my first glimpse
of Seth walking towards me across the grass in the park, I'm surprised that my ‘perfect day' feeling doesn't float off up and away into the blue sky. It remains. I smile that smile again. And I begin to think that maybe I was wrong. Maybe this really is like
How to Marry a Millionaire
after all. Finally, it seems, after a lot of misunderstandings, mishaps and misadventures, I've dug through the trash, found a few things worth keeping, discovered a few things more I never even knew about myself and am finally going to start making some happy endings. I guess it
is
sometimes worth taking that scary leap and trusting your heart over your head (don't worry – I'll still give Seth the biggest lecture of his life: that older brother-type guy has taught me a thing or two worth knowing over the years when it comes to telling people off).

So, um, yeah.

Cue: dazzling smile.

Pan to gorgeous guy quickly approaching on path.

And roll credits.