Page 19 of I Saw You First

Wil stands up. “And on that note, I’ve got to get home. You should think about it, too, Abbey.”

I look around. The techs have thinned out, with only Ian and one other guy left. To be honest, I am tired, and getting up at 4:30 is going to be rough after two days of napping at the pool. I rummage through my purse for cash.

“Nah,” Wil says, “I got this.”

I look up in surprise. He’s my boss. He shouldn’t pay for my drink, especially if there’s a policy against “fraternizing.”

“Oh, no⁠—”

John interrupts. “What about mine, Wil? You gonna pay for mine?”

“Nope. Sounds like you make so much money at your ‘real’ job, you should be buying ours.”

John glares at Wil and throws a few bills on the table. “That should be enough to cover yours, too, Abigail,” he says and walks away.

“Her name’s Abbey,” Wil calls after him. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and sets it next to John’s cash. “That guy’s such a jackass. I can’t believe he’s friends with Donnie. You ready?”

I stand and am surprised again when Wil places his hand at the small of my back as we walk, guiding me through the bar. The contact sends that swirly, swizzly feeling through my veins, like a cool, frothy, tart margarita on a hot summer evening. I shiver, and he must notice because he drops his hand.

This is so confusing. He’s your boss, I remind myself. No touching. No swizzle.

“I’m this way.” He points to the right after we step outside, opposite of where I parked.

“I’m over there.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder.

“See you at six, Rhodes,” Wil says.

I suck in a breath. I like the way he says my name, gruff and gritty. I like it too much.

“See you at six.” I straighten my shoulders and walk to my car.

SIX

“I CAN’T WAIT” BY GREAZY MEAL, 1996

WIL

“How long do you think I need to stay?” Kap asks in a low voice. We’re standing in Chanelle’s enormous, pristine white kitchen, not a crumb or small appliance to be seen—drinking Michelob Golden Draft Light from sweating bottles. “The guys are waiting for me at The Cabooze.”

“You’re a Greazy Meal fan?” I ask. The Cabooze is a smoky Minneapolis bar not far from here.

“What’s a greasy meal?” Kap replies. I’m the only person in my family who’s into music, and it shows.

“Not a greasy meal. Greazy Meal. They’re the house band on Sunday nights.”

He shrugs. “I’d rather go home and play video games, but at least I have an excuse to leave this party early.”

“Maybe I’ll meet you over there later.” I barely see Kaplan anymore, and as annoying as he was growing up, I like my kid brother.

Dad and Chanelle moved to this mansion on Lake of the Isles in Minneapolis five years ago. At that time, she issued us all an open invitation for what she calls Sunday night lunch: sandwiches on thick slabs of sourdough from a nearby bakery piled high with deli meat and cheese, tons of sides, and a buffet of bakery items. The food is good. The company? Not so much. My favorite Sunday night lunches are when Dad and Chanelle are at their timeshare in Mexico and Sunday night lunch is canceled.

It’s not that I have anything against Chanelle. Except, of course, for the fact that she’s not Mom.

Chanelle’s been the new Mrs. Wilshire for almost seventeen years, and she’s not so much an evil stepmother as one who tries too hard. She met Dad at the corporate office, another slap in Mom’s face considering how much she’d sacrificed to help him build the company. Chanelle worked in human resources of all departments, and she loves to tell the story of how she fell hard for Dad at her very first executive meeting. Dad invited her to lunch after the meeting and the rest was history. The ink on the divorce papers was barely dry.

I guess you could say I’m not a fan of workplace romance—yet another reason to not let myself get tangled up with Abbey, as much as I might enjoy the act of entanglement.

After the divorce, Mom moved us to live near her parents in Wausau, Wisconsin. I was ten, Kap eight, and Kelsey twelve and about to enter her banshee teen years. Mom worked at the hotel my grandparents own until she met Gregory a few years later. My siblings and I moved in with Dad and Chanelle and her two sons, Alec and Drew, the summer before Kelsey started at Schilling. Kap and I were still in high school, and that’s when I started working at Hometown—as many hours as they’d give me, so I could avoid being part of Chanelle’s harmonious, Brady Bunch-inspired blended family.