Now we’re talking.
“He’d love that.” I wrinkled my nose at the huge trucks occupying the curb across the narrow street. “Are you guys moving in soon?”
“Not sure when, but it should be in the next few weeks,” Scarlet answered. “Uncle Sal’s really busy with his work and Grandpa has, like, a hundred ‘social engagements’—that’s what he calls his dates—so we have to wait for them to have a break in their schedules.”
“Your grandpa lives with you?” I asked.
“Yeah. Our grandma’s dead too,” Tally said with the same bluntness. “Grandpa’s going to have his own apartment attached to our house so he doesn’t have to hear us tromping around at five in the morning when he’s trying to get some shut-eye.”
Scarlet huffed. “That’s a direct quote. Grandpa can get kind of cranky.”
Lacey made a gurgling sound. “Um, Scar, you’re kinda telling Bea our personal business.” Then she flashed me a grin, so shiny and sweet, something in my stomach flipped a little. I really didn’t do kids, so I had no idea why I was reacting to this one.
“That’s okay. We’re not strangers anymore,” I assured her. “We’re going to be neighbors.”
“And friends,” Lacey added with sugary sincerity.
“Kids!” A silver-haired man appeared on the other side of the road. “Butts in gear. It’s pizza time.”
Lacey gave my hand a final squeeze. “Bye, Bea. I can’t wait to see you again.”
All three of them gave Benjamin one last pat, then they were off. Forlorn, he watched them disappear, so I scratched behind his ear until he relaxed, leaning his solid body against my leg.
“Don’t worry, Benji-bear. They’ll be back.”
Ireallywasn’t a kid person.
Not at all.
But as far as kids went, I guessed those three weren’t so bad.
Chapter Four
Salvatore
Samplantedhimselfonmy desk; he knew how much I hated it. Yet he continued to do it anyway, just like fiddling with the stack of folders in my tray and sliding my pen holder three inches to the right.
I had known Sam since college, and he’d always had this habit of marking the space he occupied—tearing off corners of fliers tacked to bulletin boards, rotating desks a few degrees, leaving behind origami gum wrappers. At first, I’d almost believed he wasn’t aware of it. But then I’d caught him looking around, gauging whether anyone had noticed the way he’d ruffled the world around him.
It was a wonder we were friends since I preferred my world wholly unruffled. But Sam had made his mark on me as well, giving me no option but to accept his friendship.
He tapped the top of my computer monitor. “Have you looked at the proposal yet?”
I spun the ring on my index finger, continuing to scan the line of code I had been checking before he’d walked in. He waited for me to finish, knowing me well enough to understand there was no other choice. Once focused, I wasn’t easily diverted.
Finally, I came to a stopping point and looked up from my screen. “What was that?”
He sighed heavily through his nose. “The proposal I sent you three days ago. The one we’re discussing at our weekly meeting, which is taking place in twenty minutes, like every Tuesday.”
Exasperated. That was what he was.
This was a new thing with Sam. Being in my life required patience, which Sam never had a shortage of, but lately, he’d been doing this sighing thing when I did not comply with his arbitrary timelines.
I’d been mulling over his sighs, trying to decipher what they meant for the future of our friendship and partnership. Of course, it wasn’t only the sighs I’d been contemplating. We were in the midst of a fundamental disagreement over the direction we would be taking the company in the next few years, one I did not see an easy way out of.
“Tore,” he grumbled. “Did you read the proposal?”
“I glanced at it. You know my answer. It’s not the right time to go public. It may never be, but the near future is absolutely out of the question.”
