Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“No, no, definitely not,” he replies, not meeting my gaze. “But they’re definitely fans of yours and of Greer’s. We can slide into their DMs or whatever the youths do these days.”
Nicky sips his coffee thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea.”
“I’m on it,” George says, tucking his hands into the pockets of the same khaki golf pants every other finance bro around us is wearing.
We’re making our way down Tryon Street, uptown Charlotte’s main thoroughfare. It’s early—before seven—but bank employees are already streaming into the buildings that line either side of the street. I’ve kept my voice low as we walked, explaining the situation and how I need help brainstorming some solutions.
The sky is pink in anticipation of the sunrise, making the glass façade of the nearest skyscraper glow. I squint against the light, the breeze ruffling my hair.
“We could get your dad fired,” Ian, another Duke rower who works in Syndicate, says. “You have any dirt on him?”
“None whatsoever,” I reply. “He’s a ballbuster, but his nose is clean. Besides, I don’t want to stoop to his level. He may want to destroy Greer, but I’m not out to destroy him. I just want to be with my girl.”
Porgeous chokes on his coffee. “Sorry. Gonna take a sec to get used to that.”
Theo slaps his back. “Think of it this way: it’s your two best friends becoming best friends themselves.”
Ian snickers. “Best friends who bone.”
“Are you twelve?” I ask.
“Nah.” He wipes his eyes. “C’mon, you gotta let us tease y’all about this for a little bit. It’s too rich, you and Porg’s baby sister getting together.”
“She’s not a baby,” I say.
George lets out an aggravated sigh. “But she is my sister, and I care about her very much. I also care about my parents. We all have money invested in the bakery, and if James makes good on his threat, Greer’s out the dream of a lifetime, and we’re out a shit ton of cash.”
Thoughtful silence descends as we cross Trade Street. I wrinkle my nose at the diesel fumes from a dump truck idling at the stoplight. A woman passes us, phone pressed to her ear, a frantic look on her face.
The day—and the stress—begin early in our world.
“What about this?” George says. “You take a completely different tack. You say your dad’s nose is clean. He’s got a solid reputation at the bank. He can’t be all bad, right? What if you appeal to his sense of honor? I mean, imagine if someone did this to your sister. Not to bring up a sore subject, but . . .”
I blink, a spark catching inside my head. “No, no. That’s actually not a bad idea. My parents—they don’t talk about Lizzie enough. Probably part of the reason why I don’t talk about her either. I think we’ve all kind of privately mourned her in our own ways.”
“You celebrate her too,” George says. “You know, going to Kate’s or whatever every year.”
Nicky blinks. “Kate’s?”
“Only the most bad-ass roller rink in Charlotte,” I say.
Ian stares at me. “You go to a roller-skating rink every year? What the hell does Mr. Grumpy do there?”
“I roller-skate, dickhead. And I remember how much fun Lizzie and I had skating together.”
He blushes. “Sorry. I had no idea. You really haven’t ever talked about her. Or, uh, that. The skating. It’s kinda cute.”
“Ever thought of setting up a foundation for her?” Porg asks. “Maybe y’all could raise money for a cause Lizzie would like. The arts, maybe? Mental health? That’d be an excellent way of celebrating her memory. A public way too. We could appeal to your dad’s emotional side. Make him think twice about interfering with your relationship with Greer, because he wouldn’t ever want someone interfering that way in Lizzie’s relationships. He wouldn’t ever let anyone jeopardize her happiness, right?”
“Right.”
“And your dad could also see that Greer’s not a liability to your career, but an asset. Could that bring him out of his asshole shell?”
My heart dips. The spark becomes a flame. “Maybe. Probably not. But—”
“There is a chance,” George says.
“A very, very small chance.”
“There was a small chance Nora wasn’t going to murder me after the shit I pulled with her.” Theo holds up his left hand. “Now look at me. I’m not only alive, I’m married. And I’m going to be a dad!”
Nicky shakes his head. “I still don’t get why she picked you.”
“That would’ve made a really great true crime podcast. But I digress. I really dig the idea of a foundation,” I say, the brick in my stomach beginning to dissolve. “I’ve thought about it before, but I wasn’t ready. I haven’t been ready to talk about Lizzie until . . . well, now.”
Theo grins. “That have anything to do with Greer?”
“Absolutely.” I look at George. “She’d love her, you know. Lizzie. She’d adore your sister.”