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“How are things over at the bakery?” I ask as we head to the kitchen.
Her smile widens, and her eyes glass over with pride. “Excellent. One of my social media videos went viral, and I’ve had almost too many orders to process. Wanna guess what for?”
I groan. “Not really.”
She throws her hands in the air. “Penises. All the penis cookies.”
Her storefront doesn’t sell anything of the sort, but my sister has found her niche online and makes more there than she does right here in Charlotte.
“They have cream-colored—”
My hand quickly covers her mouth. “If you love me like you say, do not tell me what you do with those cookies.”
Her entire body shakes, and I remove my hand. “You need to get laid. You’re seriously grouchy.”
I snort, but say nothing in reply. Getting “laid” has only made my attitude worse.
She pokes a finger into my ribs. “You’ve only been home for a few days. Did you already meet someone?”
“No.” My voice is clipped. We enter the kitchen, and I move to focus on the pizza while Celia gets the plates.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t continue to prod at my sex life, and we each grab a couple slices of thick-crust, pepperoni-and-sausage pizza. It’s crispy and slightly burnt from the wood-fired oven. Just how I like my pies.
“So, how’s the new job?” Celia asks after we’ve both finished our first piece in comfortable silence.
I wipe the grease from my face and fingers before getting up to grab drinks. “Better than I thought it would be. The employees seem overly excited to have a new CEO.”
She accepts the offered water bottle. “From what you told me before, I don’t blame them. Are you diving right in with changes or taking things slow?”
I sit back down. “A little of both. Some things are long overdue. Others, I don’t know enough about to decide if they should be changed or left alone. I met with all of the VPs, though. They’re rather capable, and I’m not overly worried about getting all aspects of the company back into the green.”
She nudges me with her elbow and grins. “I can give your marketing team some social media advice.”
I shake my head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m actually having dinner with the marketing VP and his fiancée this week.”
Her jaw pops open. “Look at my big brother making friends for the first time since college. I’m so proud of you.”
“I have friends,” I say, but the words fall flat, even to me.
The people I went to school with only cared about money, their social standing, and what careers would help with those things. I never fit into that world. Celia did, but she chose to follow me here instead of staying in New York with our parents when I’d finally been pushed to my limits.
It was something I never thought too hard on, because the idea that my little sister was only here to watch over me was depressing.
We finish our pizza and chat about my volunteer work in Peru for a while before she heads home. When I head upstairs for the evening, I eye the door to my home gym, but brush the thoughts away. Tomorrow will be a better day for a workout.
Instead, I grab my work bag and head to my office. A little late-night work to hopefully help me sleep better.
* * *
The next twodays go by in a blur of meetings, projects, and caffeine. I hardly have a moment to think about Kenzie or the carnival we’re supposed to be planning together, which, for the latter, isn’t good. There are still eight weeks left, but I can’t put off getting feelers out for potential donors.
Frustration builds inside me that I’m letting my feelings make this harder than necessary. Still, I don’t understand why Joyce partnered me with Kenzie.
I love that woman like family, but sometimes she’s too much.
Whatever her reasoning was for giving me this hardship, I need to find a way not to care about the things that shouldn’t matter. I don’t want to ruin the biggest fundraiser of the year for Resolutions. That’s most important to me.
A knock echoes through my office, and the open door swings even further open. I see Owen leaning against my doorframe.
