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She was young enough that it was, so far, just a hobby. I couldn’t help but wonder if she would somehow manage to make a career out of it.
I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of family life the two girls had that had turned them into such strong, self-assured, driven women with absolutely no fucks to give. Was it born of love and stability or strength brought on by hardship?
Nia was tight-lipped about her personal life. I didn’t know Bex well enough–and likely never would–to get those kinds of personal details out of her.
“Piss off your boss again?” Bex asked, reaching to steal a Hershey’s Kiss out of the fishbowl Nia kept full of them.
“He’s wrong,” Nia told her sister, refusing to give an inch. It wasn’t her way.
“Probably. But you’re a pain in the ass,” Bex informed her.
“That’s what makes me good at what I do.”
“No. Being a nosy ass is what makes you good at what you do. Being a pain in the ass is what makes it impossible for you to have a normal job.”
“I have a great job.”
“For now. You keep ticking off the big guy, you’re gonna be out. Right, Hunky Leering Guy?”
“He’s not leering. He’s standing there,” Nia clarified, rolling her eyes at her sister. “Not all guys are pieces of shit.”
“Just most of them?” Bex asked.
“A good majority,” Nia conceded.
“But not this one?” Bex asked, jerking her chin toward me.
“So far, nope.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nia.”
“He did just cut my ass-chewing from the boss man short. So we can tolerate him.”
“Fiiine,” Bex sighed, but shot me a smile.
“Are you still grounded?” Nia asked me.
“Until I finish my paperwork,” I agreed, realizing for the first time that the timing of Quin’s decision to double-down on me for slacking the past, I don’t know, couple of years, was actually perfect. And that with Gemma in my house, one could argue that taking my sweet time finishing it up actually was the best path. I couldn’t exactly keep an eye on her if I finished my work and was suddenly shipped off to Abu Dhabi or something to handle some touchy situation.
“Going crazy yet?”
“Enough to make me consider actually doing my paperwork when I am supposed to.”
“Just consider it?” she asked, lips curling up.
“Can’t exactly promise I will turn into a good record keeper. Anymore than you can promise to play by the rules, babe.”
“Hacking is all about breaking rules,” she reminded me as I made my way back to the door. “Maybe if you could remind Quin of that, he will get off my ass all the time.”
“I think I helped you out with him enough for one day,” I told her with a smile. “Nice seeing you again, Bex.”
“Oh, hey,” Jules said, stopping short at as I moved into the hall. “I think my invitation must have gotten lost on that disaster zone you call a desk. So I needed to check in. Are you coming to the party next week?”
“I am always down for a party. What kind of party is it again?”
To that, she sighed, clearly disappointed.
“Emmeline’s birthday,” she told me, meaning the daughter that, even at her young age, clearly took after her mother. Whereas their son, Benjamin (Benji), was shaping up to be all Kai.
“Oh, of course,” I agreed, nodding, figuring it was better to act like I hadn’t completely forgotten her birthday month. “I will be there. Any suggestions on what kind of presents to get her? I’m not up on my kid gifts since I was one.”
“I will text you a PDF with suggestions for what she has been into.”
Of course she was. That was Jules – ridiculously forward-thinking and organized.
“Perfect. And, in case I don’t find the invite, text me the details too.”
“I’m already on it.” And she was, her hands moving over her phone as she walked away.
The day I had originally been dreading, thinking I would be drowned in paperwork, lost a lot of its dread.
I did a small bit of organizing, cleaning, handling a small handful of files, and then went ahead and spent the rest of the day watching shit on my phone while dreaming of soup.
By the time everyone shuffled out, I wrapped it up, making my way back to my house. I found myself warmed at the sight of the lights already on, inviting me home even from the road.
There was practically a cheesy skip in my step as I made my way back from the garage, heading up the front path, hearing the sounds of life from inside.
As I fumbled to find my rarely-used house key, my gaze went to the window beside the door, seeing the back of Gemma as she moved back into the kitchen.
She’d changed out of her work clothes, wearing instead a much more Gemma-like pair of bright yellow and pink mandala yoga pants and an oversized gold colored sweater. Her hair was down and wild. Her feet were bare.
