“Oh, come on,” Valentina teases. “Act like there’s anyone that knows you better than we do.”
“Actually, I was the one that knew you would be here,” Archer says, shaking his head, the slight annoyance in his voice unmistakable. Taking the empty stool next to Carina, he faces her. “You should have said something. I would have taken you home.”
“I was just promised the best chicken tenders I’ve ever had in my life,” my brother adds, shrugging.
Bob’s confusion suddenly makes sense. He would have, of course, recognized his grandchildren. Alfie on the other hand…
Introductions are made and orders are placed. Every one of us gets something different, but all of us receive large plates overflowing with food. Except for Carina. Bob plops down a parchment-paper-lined basket of French fries in front of her.
I’m just about to ask her what else she ordered when Bob returns with a small bowl and another milkshake. Glancing over, I see a yellowish, orange-colored sauce steaming from inside the white ceramic bowl.
“What is that?” I ask, lowering my voice. The last thing I want to do is offend Carina’s grandfather. Especially in his place of business.
“Cheese sauce,” Carina says, laughing at my question. “Normally the cheese goes over the fries, but I prefer to dip it like a sauce.”
“Interesting,” I say, taking the ketchup bottle that was placed between me and Alfie. I squeeze some over the mountain of pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, and bacon before putting the top half of the bun over the massive burger.
“Ryan West, are you trying to tell me you’ve never had cheese fries?” she asks, the concept clearly baffling her.
“I have not,” I confirm, laughing back this time. “Though, where I’m from, we call them chips.”
“Well, we’re about to change that right now,” she says, picking up a chip.
She dunks it into the creamy cheese sauce for a moment then pulls it out, holding the dripping chip over the bowl of sauce. With the chip in one hand, her other hand open underneath, she brings it to my mouth, and I open without hesitation. The smooth and creamy cheese combined with the salty starch surprises me. I’ve eaten in multiple countries, all over the world, and I never would have thought to do that.
“Did you just take food from someone’s hand?” my brother asks, from the other side of me.
I don’t share food. I never have. I don’t do dips or salsa that multiple people eat from. My own brother has tried to get me to take a bite from sandwiches he’s had, and I’ve always flat out refused. For some reason, I didn’t think twice about it with Carina. Even if it had bothered me, the anticipation as I chewed and the grin when I asked for a small bowl of the cheesy sauce to dip my own chips in made it worth it.
“Shut up,” I say to Alfie under my breath. This is not the time or the place for my little brother to start announcing big revelations.
“I’m just impressed,” he says, looking around me to where Carina is now turned, facing her siblings. “They’re good people, mate. I think this is going to be a good thing. For both of us.”
12
Carina
Over the next two hours, I laugh more than I have in my entire life. Ryan and Alfie seamlessly join in on the conversation with me, Archer, and my siblings like we’re all old friends.
Excusing myself to use the bathroom, I close the door and sigh happily. This—being with my siblings and my best friend, eating cheese fries and drinking black raspberry milkshakes at my grandfather’s diner—is how I would have chosen to celebrate tonight. I didn’t need VIP status or fancy champagne.
I also didn’t need to actually use the bathroom. I just wanted a second to take in the last couple of hours. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I push the strands of hair that have fallen from the quick bun I made on top of my head on the ride here. My makeup is still flawless. The smokey eye Olivia created and the red lip-stain she ran over my lips look just as good as they did before we left Valentina’s.
“You still look gorgeous.”
My sister’s voice echoes in the bathroom as she pushes open the wooden door, joining me at the double mirrors.
“Just wanted to check on you,” she continues, fixing her own hair.
“I’m good,” I tell her. “Actually, I know this isn’t the ideal time to ask,” I pause, looking at her reflection in the mirror in front of us, “but Ryan and Alfie told me I could have a personal assistant. I know it’s a lot to ask. But, like you said, there’s no one that knows me better than you guys. You can bring Daisy and your laptop to the set so you can still—”
“Seriously?” She laughs, cutting me off. “I would love to make coffee runs for you, little sister.”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes. “I honestly don’t even know what you would do. There’s a whole team that handles marketing. They even asked me if I would allow them access to my social media.”
“I’m really proud of you, Carina,” she says when I’m done rambling about the marketing team. “I don’t know if I told you that today. But I am. You’re such a great mom, and the best sister and friend. You’ve worked so hard for this.” Taking a paper towel, she dabs her eyes.
“Are you…” I begin, but my words are cut short due to the shock of my sister’s heartwarming words and her sudden showing of emotion, which are both outside the norm for Valentina. “Oh my God. You’re crying! Val!”
“I’m just so fucking proud of you,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “I love you, little sis.”
“I love you too,” I tell her as she lets go. I step back, checking her face before she lets out a small laugh.
“We should probably get back,” she says, pointing to the wooden door. “I’m a big fan of Ryan. Alfie, too. And we both know they’ll never admit it, but Ryan made quite the impression on the boys earlier—swooping in and saving the day like Prince fucking Charming. And the way you two keep looking at each other? I’m surprised you haven’t humped yet.”
“Okay, one,” I start, shaking my head, “no one says ‘hump,’ Valentina. Two, stop. Just stop. He’s my boss. He works for the network. He’s just being nice. It’s his job.”
“If you say so.” She laughs, pushing the door open.
As soon as we step out, Ryan pulls his attention from the conversation at the bar, a lopsided grin appearing at the sight of me.
While we walk, my sister leans in, lowering her voice when she says to me, “I’ve never looked at any of my employees like that.”
“That’s because you manage a group of fifty women selling skincare products,” I say under my breath, taking my seat next to Ryan.
In an effort to make money in college, my sister joined a popular direct sales company. Not anticipating it would become anything more than a side job, she started hosting parties and got her brand on social media before it had become trendy. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Early Childhood Education and hasn’t taught a single day of her life. She’s one of the top consultants in the New England region, and is in the top twenty-five in the entire United States. She has her own customers, but most of her work now simply consists of overseeing the women—and a few men—that are on her team.