Page 64 of The F*ck-It List

“Nah, she’s just nice to me, makes me realise what a bunch of dicks you lot are.” He places the hand carved, high-backed chair down and steps back to look at it. “It’s nice, that one.”

“Thanks,” I say with alaugh. “I try.”

“You still need me?” he asks, coming to stand next to me where I’m dusting off the ottoman I made just for today that’s taking pride of place, front a centre at my stall. “I want to get back and help BB bring down all the stuff we made.”

I turn to my nephew and look at his slightly pimpled face. He’s practically buzzing, bouncing on his feet with an energy I’ve not seen from him before. “You’re really enjoying working for her, aren’t you?”

He shrugs it off casually, but I’m not fooled. “She’s cool, and I like all the food we’re making. I’ll be catching up to you soon.” He pats his completely flat, almost concaved, belly and grins cheekily.

“Dipshit,” I mutter, but I ruffle his hair, partly because I’m so full of affection for this little dickhead and partly because I know it annoys him. He bats me away and grumbles. “Yeah, go on. Go help Bea. I’m sure she’s eager to get you back.”

“Actually, she sent me away when I rocked up this morning.” He laughs, picking up his water bottle and taking a swig. The sun is beating down, hot and strong already, even though it’s still mid-morning. “She seemed a bit jittery.”

That has my nerves on edge, and I narrow my gaze at Connor. “Jittery how?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Just nervous or excited, I guess. Apparently, I was too bouncy, and she needed me to go expel some energy while she got herself together. Her words, not mine.” He moves his sunglasses from the top of his head to cover his eyes and hits me with two finger guns, like a complete idiot. “Catch ya later, Unc.”

Dipshit indeed. He sets off up the road at a jog and my eyes follow him, an unease in my chest as I worry about Bea. I don’t like the thought of her jittery and nervous. I’m grateful The Reading NookCafé stall is opposite mine, the brightly coloured banner over the table set with a sunshine yellow cloth is all Bea. The table is still empty as Bea wants to bring the food down at the last minute to save it from the heat for as long as possible. She and Conner worked hard yesterday, baking cakes and cookies, making doorstop sandwiches and savoury pastries.

I see Eli arriving up the road, his muscles being put to good use by the gleaming silver keg he’s hauling to the pub’s stall which is a bit further up than mine. Joanie is next to me, a selection of homemade pots and ceramics on her table, and her business cards for her interior design business available for people to take away with them.

“It’s fucking hot,” she complains, drawing my thoughts away from the pink haired beauty apparently brimming with nerves up the road.

I grunt a response because obviously it’s hot, there’s not a lot more to say. She tsks and punches my arm hard enough that my eyes water, but I don’t show her, she’ll never let me live it down.

“You’d think now you were getting laid, you’d be more personable.”

“And you’d think, as my sister, you wouldn’t be so interested in my sex life.” I huff, pulling a dust sheet off a small bureau I made a few years ago and have decided to sell to free up some room in the house.

“I’m not interested in it, ew, don’t be gross.”

“You brought it up.”

She looks up at me with big sisterly scrutinization. “How are things going?Notthe sex stuff, the other stuff.”

“I wouldn’t tell you about the sex stuff even if you wanted to know,” I snark, and her whole head moves with the force of her eyeroll. “It’s good, she’s good…we’re—”

“Good?”

Ishoulder bump her and she stumbles. “Prick,” she mumbles under her breath before we both smile at each other. “We’re going to have to help each other out today,” she says. “Con’s normally my second, but I’m pretty sure he won’t be pulled away from Bea for love nor money.”

I smile. “He does seem to really enjoy it, and Bea says he’s surprisingly talented in the kitchen.”

“He’s cooked dinner for us both, like, three times,” Joanie says, looking gobsmacked. “With vegetables and multiple components. It’s…weird.”

I hum, amused. “About time someone in your house made sure you’re both eating right.”

“I eat just fine,” she complains.

“You live off crisps and gummy worms.”

“Balance.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Love you too, little brother.”

I don’t return her sentiment out loud, even if—no matter how pathetic it makes me—Joanie is my best friend right there along with Eli. Instead, I look back up the road to see if Bea is coming and find her and Connor striding down the slight incline with plastic tubs piled high in each of their arms. Leaving Joanie, possibly still wittering on, I dash over to Bea and take the boxes from her.