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Thinking about Dr. Evil makes me think of Shag Now, which makes me think of Nate.
Desperate for a distraction, I land a soft punch on the ball of Rhett’s shoulder. “Better question, what are you doing here?”
“Caffeine run.” He yawns on cue. “Liam was up last night with a fever.”
I wrinkle my nose, the sting of embarrassment fading ever so slightly at the mention of my two-year-old nephew. “I’m sorry. Y’all need any help? I’m happy to watch him later if you and Amelia need a nap.”
Amelia is Rhett’s fiancée. I love her to death, and I love the two of them together. Seeing how each of my four siblings has paired off with an excellent partner over the past few years makes me happy. First, my oldest brother, Beau, fell in love with his best friend, Annabel. Then Samuel and Emma started dating, and they were followed in short order by Hank and Stevie falling head over heels for each other.
I used to wonder when it’d be my turn. But I’m starting to think love knocked on my door and found me too fucked up to stick around. So I don’t wonder anymore.
“I appreciate the offer—that’d be great. Let me see how Amelia’s feeling, and I’ll let you know.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He’s peering at me again. “Milly, what’s really going on? I heard you met with Nate Kingsley.”
I look down at my feet and nod, my throat suddenly tight again. “I had a client cancel their wedding, so a slot opened up in April. Nate and his fiancée booked it.”
“I’m sorry, Milly,” Rhett says gently. “That must’ve been rough.”
I didn’t mean to confide in Rhett about my relationship with Nate. But Rhett went through a bit of a rough patch this summer with his son and Amelia, and we talked a lot, and somehow it just . . . slipped out, that I had been with Nate in the past, and that he was marrying someone else. I didn’t share any details, but it was enough to let Rhett know I had some regrets.
“It’ll be all right,” I say, as much to myself as to my brother. “I’m all right.”
“Is that why you were twerking by yourself in your office on a Saturday morning? Because you’re all right?”
“I’m trying to get inspired so I can finish this freaking mood board. Dancing worked when nothing else did, so. Yeah. I’m giving it another try.”
Rhett’s smile softens. He shakes his head. “How like you, to use whatever inspiration you get for work.”
“What does that mean?”
Rhett shrugs. “Once upon a time, my life was all about work too. And somewhere along the way, I forgot how to have fun. Real fun. The kind that doesn’t have any purpose other than to enjoy it. Do you even remember the last time you played?”
“Played what?” I ask, genuinely mystified. “What else would I use inspiration for? My job is fun.”
He replies with a pointed look.
“Okay, fine. Maybe it’s not fun right now. But I’m planning a huge wedding for my ex and his wonderful, perfect fiancée on a super tight timeline. The list of things I need to get done is literally a mile long. I think I’m allowed to be stressed out.”
“Of course you are. I’m only saying you might feel a bit less overwhelmed if you took a break from that list on Saturday mornings. Savor your coffee. Dance to your new favorite album. Not because it’s part of your list but because you’re a soul, not a machine.”
Something about this idea really pisses me off. I shoot daggers at Rhett with my eyes and spit, “I’d drown if I took a break.”
“You’re drowning anyway. Trust me, I know the signs. Manic twerking being one of them.”
I resist the urge to smack the sympathy off his face. Blinking, I realize my eyes are wet.
“Who’s twerking, and can I join them?” My older brother Samuel pops his head through the door. “Morning, y’all.”
Sniffing, I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my sweater, secretly grateful for the interruption. “I swear to God, you guys are never here this early, least of all on a Saturday—”
“Brunch service, baby.” Samuel claps his hands together and steps inside my office. He’s wearing a gingham suit—yes, gingham—with Golden Goose sneakers and a collarless white poplin shirt. Samuel and I share a love of fashion, but he takes dressing to a level that impresses even me. “Now tell me about this twerking. It doesn’t have anything to do with Nate Kingsley, does it? Beau told me he came to y’all’s meeting a few weeks back. I definitely don’t need an excuse to punch that dude in the face, but because I’m a gentleman, I’ll wait for one.” He eyes me hopefully. “You gonna give me that excuse today, Milly?”
“Please leave,” I say.
