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“Remember the night you turned twenty-one?”
Chari’s brows draw together as she nods. “Yeah.”
“After your twenty-one shots . . .”
“Many of which were beer,” she adds.
“Thankfully, yes.”
Her smile loosens something in my chest. Thishasto work.
“I stayed at your house that night.”
I was sure she couldn’t possibly remember, but as the fire crackles next to us, Chari surprises me.
“I know. We ate bacon the next morning. At least, you and Devon did. I don’t think I ate all day.”
“You passed out on the couch,” I recall. “Devon took off your shoes and put a blanket on you before he went to bed. I went into the kitchen and drank some water first, like a responsible young man.”
Chari smiles, clearly having no clue where I’m going with this story. But to me, it’s like the whole thing happened yesterday.
“When I came back out and walked by the couch, I thought about the raging hangover you’d have the next day. And I wished I’d made you drink more water too. Even if they weren’t all real, you did your share of actual shots that night.”
“Raging hangover,” she mutters. “That’s an understatement.”
“I watched you, feeling guilty. It was the first time I really saw you as anything other than Devon’s little sister. All night, I’d imagined what I might say to you if you weren’t. And while I watched you sleep, your hands folded so neatly on your chest, your hair splayed out everywhere.” I shrug, acting like it’s no big deal to confess this, when in fact I never planned on telling anyone other than Hayden. “You looked like an angel to me. I thought about that night for years, wondering what Devon would think if I told him I thought his little sister was hot as hell.”
“Oh my God,” she says. “You did not think that?”
But I can tell she still doesn’t get it.
“After my discovery, when Hayden and I decided to move forward with the company, one of the first decisions we had to make was to name it. Something that could work well with beer, wine, and who knew what else.”
It takes her a second.
“Hayden’s dad hired a marketing team that would make most Fortune 500 companies jealous. They were the best in the business. Charts of names and market research . . . but it was one thing I refused to budge on.”
Her eyes, like saucers, tell me she’s finally made the connection.
“Are you saying . . . ?”
I nod. “It’s named after you, Chari.”
“No, there’s no way. Devon . . .”
“Has no idea.”
She still doesn’t believe me. I pull my phone out of my pocket, pull up Hayden’s number, and hold it out. “Text Hayden. He’ll tell you.”
Chari doesn’t take the phone. “Angel, Inc. is named . . .”
“After the beautiful, caring girl who turned into a woman right before my eyes.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me? Last week . . . how could you?” She stops, but I know what she’s trying to ask.
“How could I screw up a chance with the woman I’ve harbored a secret crush on for years? My only real defense is that I’m an idiot, and it’s not a very good one. Why did I think it was OK not to go home for Christmas last year when my family lives two hours away? Or that buying my dad a few new pizza ovens would make up for missing his surgery last year.”
How could it have gotten so bad?
