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Their rock, as dad says. I just wish that someday I find my own rock too.
“I don’t like the idea of you being here all alone,” I say.
Kira gapes. “Hey! What am I, chopped liver?”
“I just meaneventually. Once you move out.”
Kira rolls her eyes. “As long as I’m working for Orlie Wynters, there will be no social life to speak of. Living at home is just fine for me.”
My eyes meet Dad’s and he smiles, pointing his spatula at Kira. “See? I have Kira.”
I shake my head. “We need to get you a girlfriend, Dad.”
He flushes. “A girlfr–No, no. I’m much too old for that.”
“A lady friend, then,” Kira adds, elbowing me. We both giggle.
“Girls–”
“Dad, we’re teasing,” I interrupt him.Kind of. Dad hasn’t been with anyone, as far as I know, since Mom left. That was over ten years ago now. “Although, I did see you getting kind of cozy with Victoria at–”
Dad gasps. “Victoria?! No. That’s my best friend’s sister.”
“Are you talking about the best friend who is literally married to your daughter?Thatbest friend?” Kira retorts.
Dad huffs, unable to find his next sentence for several moments before firmly saying, “I don’t get cozy with anyone.” Then, he turns his back to us to start working on the griddle, effectively ending the conversation.
Kira and I try not to laugh.
* * *
“What do people wear in Maldives?”Kira asks as we wade through the racks at Fred Segal.
“I think there’s a difference between what people wear in Maldives and what people at aresortwear in Maldives,” I say dryly.
Gillian and Axel are getting married at the end of the month. I definitely didn’t expect a destination wedding from them, but I guess I have to thank Hunter Ricks, Amy’s hotel magnate beau and Dad’s next-door neighbor, for offering Gillian and Axel full run of Ricks Maldives from Christmas to New Year’s.
Needless to say, this is going to be the event of a lifetime.
However, I don’t have a wardrobe suitable for a resort.
I take a floral caftan off the rack. We both immediately grimace.
“This isn’t going well, is it?” Kira murmurs.
I laugh. “Please, we just started.”
“You know I hate shopping.”
I glance at her over my shoulder as I start to push pieces down a rack. Moments like these make me feel like a mom. Dragging a kid around a store for new school clothes. Except it’s my sister and we’re shopping for a luxury resort. Same, but different. “Maybe we should start with bathing suits.”
“I have a bathing suit,” Kira replies.
“You have a speedo one piece that you use for exercise. You’re not wearing that on a beach in Maldives.”
Kira snorts. “I’ll do whatever I like.”
“Don’t be difficult.”
