Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Could you really? I’ll also try Maribel. But she’s usually more interested in experiences than stuff.”
“Huh.” I can’t imagine not caring about presents, but maybe I’m just shallow. “How do you know her. High school?”
“Sort of. She was, um, engaged to my brother.”
Oh shit. “You mean… the one who died?”
“That’s the guy. It was eleven years ago, though. We all had some dark days then, but I’m glad she’s found someone.”
I give a low whistle. “Me too, then. I’ll call if Theo gives me any good ideas. Otherwise, I’ll just wing it. Leave it to me.”
“You’re the best,” he says. “When should we leave on Saturday?”
After Eric and I make a few plans, I dig Theo’s contact information out of my phone and call him.
I get Theo’s voicemail, which isn’t a big surprise. And, what the hell, I decide to leave a message. Eric is counting on me.
“Hi, it’s Darcy. Your, um, sister.” Ugh. I’m off to a great start. “I heard you’re moving into a new house, and I was wondering what you and Maribel might need? For a shower gift? If you can think of anything, I’d love to know. See you Saturday.”
Then I hang up, wondering why my family has to be so damn weird.
Chapter 10
Who’s Obsessed?
Eric
Did you find the watering can? I think I left it on the counter.”
I’m standing in DeLuca’s kitchen, talking to him on the phone. “This tiny thing?”
“Yeah. Fill it up about halfway.”
“For six plants?”
“Yup. My babies don’t need much. The first one is on the coffee table.”
I fill the can and wander into DeLuca’s generous living room, which looks a lot like mine, with the same floor-to-ceiling windows. But he’s got views of northern midtown, while my place faces south.
DeLuca, Chase Merritt, and I are the sole occupants of the penthouse floor of our apartment building. It’s our sanctuary, and we often rely on each other for small favors. Which is why I find myself watering DeLuca’s plants at nine a.m. on the morning of my departure to Massachusetts.
“Did you find Fluffy?” he asks.
“I’m sorry?”
“Fluffy. He’s the Echeveria.”
There are two tiny pots on the vast coffee table. “Do you mean this plant that looks like a tiny artichoke? Is Fluffy edible?”
“No, asshole, don’t eat my plant. And don’t water the leaves, just the soil. Not too much.”
“Sure, Dad.” I can’t believe our fearsome two-hundred-pound goalie has me watering a plant the size of a golf ball. But we all have our hobbies. I spill a little water on the table and smear it away with my fist. “What’s in this other pot?” I squint at it. “Looks like… a human bone.”
“It’s a Lithops. But don’t water Stoney. It’s not time.”
“Whatever you say, killer.”
Ignoring my dig, he guides me around every room of his penthouse, where I get to water a half dozen more succulents with names that follow their shapes. There’s Spiky, Creepy, and Ralph.
“Wait… Ralph?”
“He just looks like a Ralph. Only a tablespoon of water for him.”
“Uh-huh.” As if I’m going to find a measuring spoon in his kitchen. I eyeball it instead. “How come you didn’t do this before you left for the Hamptons?”
“I was hungover and forgot. Today’s your road trip, right?”
“Yeah, just as soon as I’m done here. Hey—you got any snacks?”
“Probably. Help yourself to whatever you can find.”
I retrace my steps to the kitchen, abandoning the watering can and opening his pantry. “Hmm. Granola bars. Chips. Oh! Can I take this bag of chocolate-covered almonds? Darcy likes dark chocolate.”
“How do you know?” he challenges me.
“It’s a long season. Everyone knows she likes dark chocolate. And she likes fruit but hates bananas.”
“Dude, not everyone on the team has the GM’s assistant’s whims memorized. Maybe it’s your captain’s energy. Or…” He chuckles.
“Or what?”
“You’ve got a thing for her.”
“Doesn’t everybody? She’s hot.”
“She’s objectively attractive,” he agrees. “But I’m not a walking list of her food choices, and I don’t know which fragrance she wears.”
“Daisy Love by Marc Jacobs.”
There is a deep silence on the line. And then a chuckle. “Yeah, you aren’t obsessed at all.”
“Obsessed? Who’s obsessed? I just… notice things.”
“Uh-huh.” He laughs. “Have a nice trip. How long is the drive?”
“Four hours.”
“In your cozy Porsche, with Darcy in a dress, right? Because you’re headed to a party? And smelling like… what was it called? Daisy Love? Since you’re not obsessed, it should be no problem.”
“Thanks for the chocolate almonds,” I grumble before hanging up on him.
As soon as I pull up outside Darcy’s building, she darts outside, a rolling suitcase at her heels, and a shopping bag in her hands. “Can you pop the trunk?” she asks through the open window.
It takes me a second to respond, because I’m admiring the little dress she’s wearing. Specifically, the freckles on her smooth shoulders. And the cleavage.
But my mama raised me right, so I shake myself and do better. I hit the trunk’s release, then hop out of the car and lift her bags into the back.