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“Stop your whining,” Mia cuts in. “It’s the twenty-first century. Men come to baby showers now. And it’s not going to be a regular baby shower, it’s going to be a fun one.”
“Yeah, with an open bar,” Christine adds.
“Which not all of us can enjoy,” Mia grumbles.
“Maybe you can bring a date,” Christine says slyly.
“A date. To my sister’s baby shower. I don’t know, Christine. Is that what women want these days?”
They both laugh. “Couldn’t hurt. Is there someone you can take?”
“Nope.”
“Come on, J. No one? Really? Let me set you up with Mia’s sister.”
“I’m good.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d take offense to that,” Mia mutters. Christine calms her while I’m silent. My sister’s wife describes herself as “unhinged white trash,” and I try to stay on her good side. For Christine.
“Anyways, think about it. And Ma is going to call you about dinner this Sunday. Be ready.”
“I’ll make sure my phone is off. Thanks.”
We hang up and I scrub a hand over my face. I love my family. I do. But they’re messy. Complicated. And not part of my world. Not really. Dinner with my mother means questions about my personal life that I don’t want to answer, my father’s well-meaning comments about my business, Christine’s latest work drama, which she’s usually right in the center of. If I’m lucky, my grandma will be there, smacking shins with her cane and pretending she can’t hear when we chastise her for insulting people.
No thanks.
* * *
“Ms. Thompson is underutilized here. I thought I would let you know.”
I raise my head to see George at my door, their lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.
Miles appears behind them, and I raise my brows.
“Is this an intervention?”
“You’re wasting company resources,” Miles says flatly. “She’s smart. And George needs help. I need you to stop monopolizing their time.”
“You were supposed to hire someone,” George interjects. “But you scared all the decent candidates away. She’s not scared of you. That makes her qualified for the job.”
“The real job,” Miles adds. “Not this crap.” The meaningful look he gives me tells me he’s on to me.
“I’m taking her to the charity event tonight. Is that good enough?” I take pleasure in the shock on Miles’s face.
“You’re what? I’m sorry, did you say event?”
“Do you want me to hit you to make sure you’re not dreaming?” George asks him gleefully, and Miles grins.
“You’d love that. But no. I just—why the change of heart? You’ve never voluntarily attended a charity event. Last month, you told me you’d rather walk across hot coals than sit at a dinner and bid on things.”
“Dylan will be there.”
“Ah. So what’s your plan? Show up and schmooze?” He looks skeptical.
“And she’s going to help. She’s a reporter after all. And besides, Dylan always wants what he can’t have. If she’s mine, he’ll try to steal her from me.”
Miles frowns. “And then what? You’re not waiting for him to try and get her alone, are you? That’s sick, man.”
