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EDEN:For god’s sake. It’s a PHOTO! We were talking on the beach like normal people.

HUDSON:But we don’t know anything about this kid. Why is he here? I’m gonna call West.

EDEN:DO NOT CALL WEST. He’s busy. And so am I. Please micromanage someone else’s life.

WYATT:

At least Wyatt’s predictably brief. I wish I could say the same about the rest of my family.

AUTUMN:Hmm. I was going to keep this photo off Instagram. But now I’m thinking maybe a soft launch post?Caption: “When your sister brings a boy home to meet the family…”

EDEN:Do it and die.

AUTUMN:Then pick up when I call. We’re overdue for a big sister-little sister heart-to-heart. And I’m bored. You need to entertain me.

EDEN:I’m muting this chat. Forever.

But I don’t. Instead I close the app with a sigh.

God help me if they ever find out what I did to West last night. Or what he did the night before that. Or that we got married in Vegas. Because if they did? My life wouldn’t be worth living. And West’s?

Well, they’d make his even worse.

twenty-one

WEST

“Wow, that was intense,” Bennett says as we finish a meeting with some suppliers and head out to grab some lunch. It’s almost two in the afternoon and neither of us has eaten anything for hours.

I slide my sunglasses on to shade my eyes from the sharp glare of the sun as it hits the freshly poured concrete. “Yeah, they’ve been screwing us around for weeks. Sometimes nice doesn’t cut it.”

I glance over at the far side of the site, where Eden’s been meeting with the irrigation guys. I haven’t heard from her since this morning. It makes me feel restless.

Bennett nods, his legs having to work twice as fast to keep up with me, because my stomach is growling and needs to be fed. We have exactly twenty minutes until the next meeting. This one is with a group of investors. Luckily not Vin, because I’m still salty over him.

“We’re eating at the food truck?” Bennett asks, looking confused when we join the back of the line that snakes along thesidewalk to the trailer where the food team is busy making every kind of wrap you could want.

“Yeah.” A smile pulls at my lips. “Where else would we eat?”

“I don’t know. I just assumed…” Bennett clears his throat. “I thought you’d have like a restaurant for the executives. My uncle hates having to eat anywhere near the people who work for him. Says it ruins his appetite.”

Yeah, well that’s because his uncle is a dick. “They deserve to eat as much as I do. Actually more. They’re working their asses off to get this place built. I’m just sitting in the airconditioned office making calls while they’re lifting two hundred pound beams in ninety degree heat.”

Two of the guys in front of us turn to look in my direction. Their eyes widen when they see me standing there.

“Frank,” I say to the first one. “How’s it going?”

“Could be better. My team lost yesterday.” He grimaces.

“That’s what happens when you support the damn Yankees,” the guy next to him points out.

“I’m from New York. I don’t get a choice. Anyway, your team isn’t much better,” Frank shoots back, jerking his thumb at the other guy. “He’s a Cubs fan. Man didn’t even grow up in Chicago and he still hasn’t known a win since 2016.”

“I like to keep my expectations low,” the Cubs guy says with a shrug, reaching forward to grab his sandwich order from the window. “That way I’m never heartbroken.”

“Smart man,” I say, then glance at Bennett. “You follow baseball?”

“Not really,” he admits. “My mom hates sports.”