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PIPER DELMONICO
True chainz.
I fight the laugh that threatens to come up, but feel my lips turn up at the corners.
FITZ WESTFALL
Color me intrigued.
PIPER DELMONICO
Color me suspicious.
“What are you smiling at?” I look up to see Frannie standing in the doorway to my office. Hadn’t that been closed? I must have been distracted.
Quickly, I lock my phone and set it face-down on my desk.
“Nothing, what’s up?” I ask. She cocks her head to the side, her deep red hair, the same color as mine, falling over her shoulders, hazel eyes scanning me.
“Something’s different about you.” She closes the door behind her, crosses the distance to my desk, and falls into the padded armchair in front of it. “I haven’t seen a real smile out of you in a while.” Her tone says what her mouth doesn’t. Since Olivia. Since before then, really.
“Are you here to question me about my facial expressions?” I ask, giving the stack of papers in her hand a pointed look. She rolls her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Just trying to make conversation. We haven’t talked in a bit.” It’s true, we haven’t. Not entirely my fault - the marketing department is chaotic all the time, but with wedding season in full swing, spring break promotions running, and summer specials in the works, it’s a special kind of hell that only Fran loves. More power to her. “I heard you were at The Pine the other day with someone. I’m guessing that’s who the gifts were for.” She gives me a knowing smile. “That who you’re texting?”
“No.”
Frannie cackles. Actually cackles.
“That face doesn’t work on me, Will.” I feel my nostrils flare at her using my family nickname in the office. “Oh, don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend like affection is an inconvenience.”
“It is.” She lowers her head, looking at me through her lashes like I’m the dumbest person in the world. Maybe I am.
“Whoever she is, she’s pretty,” she says offhandedly, finally leaning back in her chair and adjusting the papers in her hands. I raise an eyebrow at her. “I have eyes everywhere.” Tif. Tif must have told her. I’m pretty sure the two of them are college friends. She hands me the stack of papers, seemingly moving on with a hefty breath. “I need some opinions on these that aren’t from our team. We’re starting to go cross-eyed.”
I spread the stack out on my desk, looking at the draft marketing materials for Cosette for the next calendar year.
“What’s wrong with them?” She humphs, looking frustrated.
“Nothing’swrongwith them,” Frannie says, her voice sad. “I don’t know, they’re just…missing something.”
“You came to the wrong Westfall.” I push them back together, trying to slide them across my desk. She stops me, a manicured hand forcing them back.
“I’m not bothering Dad with this.”
“But you’re bothering me with it?” My phone buzzes on the desk, and we both glance at it before she responds.
“I’m asking for your opinion because I value it. But if helping me is an inconvenience, too…” She moves to grab at the papers, and the stab of guilt in my chest moves my hand for me, covering them so they stay right where they are.
“You’re a shitty manipulator, anyone ever tell you that?” Her face immediately splits into a grin - her plan, the entire time.
“It’s one of the many reasons you love me,” she says as she stands. I look up at her, rolling my eyes and placing the stack of papers on the corner of my desk. “I think you’ll be able to add some perspective my team can’t. After all, you used to be boots on the ground.”
It’s true, I was. Long before I worked in this office, just a few hundred yards from our father’s, I managed several of our venues - what he had called “a thorough education on the family business.” In reality, I think he was worried I didn’t have what he believed it took to help run this company, and was stalling until he could make that decision. But something, probably my increased dedication thanks to my seemingly doomed marriage, changed his mind.
