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I snort and toss my phone aside.But instead of rejecting the thought outright, I let myself imagine it.Working with Gabe at the business.He has the plant know-how, and I have the eye for texture and placement.We work great together, and he really was busier than he could handle this past summer.I like physical work, and I like being out in the sun with dirt under my fingernails.Plus, I could ease back on my workouts and clean eating if I wasn’t mostly naked onstage every Saturday.I don’t hate the thought of that.
Then another one intrudes.Would Liv be happy dating a landscaper?I picture her in one of her classy hostess dresses that skim her curves and hit her just above those fucking hot knee-length boots she loves.She always wears small, expensive-looking gold earrings, and no matter how early in the morning she shows up at Verdant, her hair’s sleek and perfect.Even if she was planning to live in Beaucoeur permanently, which she’s definitely not, I’d just mess her up in every sense of the word.
“Fucking pathetic,” I mutter.“And talking to yourself too.Jesus.”
Annoyed at my moping, I roll off the couch, grab the medicine ball I keep in the corner of the living room, and push myself through my most grueling ab workout.Twice.When my brain is nothing but goo and my body is nothing but sweat and screaming muscles, I drag my carcass to the shower, then drag my now-clean carcass into the kitchen to scarf down a chicken breast and some brown rice.Then I head to bed.
The last thought I have before I fall asleep is the question Ben and Landon were debating on Sunday.How long have I been living like a monk?And more importantly, is it really such a bad thing?
The question dogs my steps at Verdant the next morning.Who I was.Who I am.Who I want to be.
Then the person Ineverwant to be comes stalking through the door.
“Oh shi—shoot.”I shove my order pad into my apron pocket and flash a hasty apology smile at the mother/daughter duo whose order I was halfway through taking.“Excuse me, ladies.I’ll be right back with you.”Then I hustle to the hostess stand, where my fucking brother’s glowering at Liv.
“I’m sorry, but he’s in the middle of service at the moment.”She’s cool and professional, and I love her for not backing down as his expression darkens.
“Like I said”—Wyatt frowns harder—“I just need a quick word with my brother.”
“If you’d be willing to?—”
“What do you want, Wy?”I ask tiredly, not even concerned that I’ve interrupted Liv’s attempts to shield me.
“I want to know why your Instagram is full of you posing with party girls.”He brandishes his phone.“You promised you’d take this seriousl?—”
With a hiss, I grab his arm and drag him out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the back parking lot.Once we’re safely out of earshot of any of my coworkers, most especially Liv, I drop his arm like it burned me.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Check.”He sets his jaw and folds his arms over his chest, waiting for me to jump and obey.It’s the last thing I want to do, but I have to know what I’ve been tagged in on Instagram.With dread bubbling in my guts, I pull out my phone and thumb open the app.
“Oh god, this?”Relief trickles through my veins.These pics are from Sunday night when we crashed at Robyn and Pammy’s.It’s me nursing a beer on a couch sandwiched between the two dancers, and another of me laughing with Pammy and a few of the other women from Wild Nights Chicago who hung out for a bit after the show.“This is nothing.”
But it could’ve beenbad.For a heart-stopping second, I was convinced I’d open IG to see my personal account tagged with pics of me in the Santa thong, or worse, me in the background looking pained as Ben was getting blown by one of the bridesmaids in the middle of the bachelorette party.
“You told me you were going to stop fucking around and take care of Christmas,” Wyatt growls.
“Iamdoing Christmas.”I shove my phone back into my pocket.“This isn’t fucking around.It’s how I’m paying for it.”
Wyatt’s lips compress.This year changed both of us and not for the better.I wanted nothing more than to be the living donor for Mom’s transplant, but Saint Wyatt was the only one whose blood type matched.So not only did my investment banker brother pour his savings into paying down the medical bills that Mom’s insurance didn’t cover, but he also took a month off work for the procedure, then another month when the incision site developed an infection.Meanwhile, the brother who bounces from job to job was forced to watch as two of the people he loves the most in the world went under the knife.That’s why I’m the one who’s goddamn making Christmas happen for the family this year, no matter how much Wyatt tries to bully his way in and take over.
“If you’d just text me back, I wouldn’t have to track you down.”He rubs a hand over his brow, fatigue lines bracketing his mouth.
And there’s the guilt again.I was ignoring his texts because I don’t like jumping when he summons me or fighting to convince him that he can count on me to do the shopping for everyone.Wy’s never been the most easygoing guy, but the slower-than-expected recovery’s been frustrating for him.He’s thinner than he was before the surgery, and his mood is consistently shitty these days, especially when it comes to me.It’s like the doctors took the last of his good moods when they took that chunk of his liver.
He bled on an operating table while you were a glorified babysitter in the waiting room,my brain whispers.Be a little patient.
Fucking brain.
“Sorry, Wy.I’ll text back next time.”
His curt “Thanks” is the most positive exchange we’ve had in forever.Might as well try to keep it going.
“Do you wanna stay for lunch?”It’s the best olive branch I can offer.“My treat.”His eyes slide to the door into the restaurant, and I sweeten the deal.“I know you love the burger here.”
His nostrils flare, and he shakes his head.“Thanks, but I’ve got to get back to the bank.”Then he narrows his eyes.“Do you swear you’ve got gifts under control?Because I can?—”
“I’ve got it,” I growl, patience gone.He nods in acknowledgment, but at least we walk back into Verdant much more calmly than we left it.
