Loss has surrounded me my entire life.
I’ve never missed my mother, stepmother, and father as much as I did when I took guardianship of Gunner and Gemma. I didn’t have them to call for advice when Gunner was colicky, or anyone to babysit them when I needed a moment to myself, or any family to celebrate the big milestones with. No one to FaceTime when Gunner took his first steps or Gemma stood up on water skis for the first time. Our holidays were spent with our only family, our grandparents, and while they tried their best to help when they could, they just couldn’t keep up with the needs of two young children at their age.
I mindlessly flip through the hangers in my closet, which is wasted time because I already know what I’ll wear today. Knowing I need to make a good impression on Gunner and Gemma’s teachers, I decide on a white, lightweight blouse that is sleeveless and tucked into my favorite navy, wide-leg trousers. I finish off the look with my gold Chanel belt and earrings.
After I finish blowing out my hair, I add a reminder on my phone to schedule hair appointments for the three of us. My makeup doesn’t take long and is as natural as possible, allowing for my freckles to show through. I used to resent that feature, being fair-skinned with red hair meant I was an easy target for the mean girls growing up, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve learned to love them.
I’ve just slipped on my favorite pair of nude Louboutin pumps when Gunner comes running into my room. “Scar, tell her to give them back!” he shouts.
“Whoa!” I hold out my arms to catch him. “Give what back, Bug?”
“My lucky crystals! She stole them from my collection and I need them for my big day,” he explains.
Before I have to seek her out, Gemma appears at my bedroom door.
“Gems, come on, give him his crystals back. How would you like it if he took one of your composition notebooks?” I ask.
With a roll of her eyes and scoff, she holds out her hand to Gunner to give him his crystals back.
“Here, I’m sorry,” she says to him with genuine remorse.
“Why did you take them when you knew I needed them today?” Gunner whines.
Gemma throws up her hands. “Look, maybe I needed them too. It’s not like anyone is going to be nice to the nerdy girl who’s been homeschooled practically her whole life.”
My chest squeezes with worry and my stomach sinks with unease hearing her reasoning.
“Well, I have two. One for me and one for you,” Gunner tells her as he holds a crystal out for her.
Gemma hesitates. “Are you sure, Gun? I don’t want to make your big day any harder.”
“I’m sure. Besides, my crystals are the strongest in the whole world!” he squeals as he takes off down the hallway with his fist raised in the air like a superhero.
God, I love that boy.
Gemma echoes my thought, adding, “I wish I could be more like him—so carefree and fun-spirited. Sometimes I’m just soangry.”
I’ve been taking Gemma to therapy regularly for a few years now, not only to cope with the loss of our parents but also to help her accept her diagnosis.
I wrap her in my arms and give her a tight squeeze while I inhale the scent of her mint and eucalyptus shampoo.
“So much has happened in such a short time, it’s okay not to be okay, sis. But just know, we’re going to rock this year, I can feel it,” I reassure her while also hoping I can convince myself too.
We did it, I was able to successfully get the kids off to their first day of school this morning after yesterday’s orientations went well. We’re off to a good start, and I’m feeling good about this year.
My morning is already productive, I just got off the phone with my grandfather’s secretary, Marissa, to confirm my meeting with him this morning. It’ll only be my second week in the office, but so far so good.
As soon as the call disconnects from my car’s speakers, I park outside my new favorite coffee spot in the city, Spencer’s Coffee Co.
I’m waiting in line but am surprised to hear my name called by a barista holding up a coffee order. Looking around, I figure it must be for another Scarlett. That is, until the shop’s owner grabs it off the pickup counter and walks it over to me in line.
Spencer Quist, or Spence, as he’s asked me to call him, saunters over to me with a shy smile on his face.
“Good morning, Scarlett,” he says as he holds out the cup for me. “A triple shot hot white mocha with oat milk, extra foam, and no whip. Right?”
Somewhat flabbergasted that he remembered my very specific order after only coming here the past few days, I try to hide my shock as I grab the drink from his hand. “Y-yes. That’s exactly right. Wow, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies as he grasps the neck strap of his apron on either side and rocks back on his heels. “Listen, I’m just going to come right out and ask. Do you have time to stick around for breakfast with me?”
