Page 18 of It's Always Sonny

I drop my hands. It’s time to put on my McLadyPants. My dad has texted me, and I need to respond.

But after years of wanting his attention and resigning myself to the knowledge that I would never earn it, I genuinely cannot imagine what the purpose of his text is. The eager little girl in me is crying to respond, to ask him what he means, to plead with him to talk to her and to love her.

I can’t let that little girl out again.

I can’t go back to hoping and hurting.

I shoot off a text.

PARKER: Yes, I predict good things for them.

I put down my phone, type a dozen figures into the spreadsheet, pick up my phone, and check to see if he’s responded. He hasn’t.

I stare at my monitor. If I adjust my sight, I can see my reflection staring back at me.

Parker Jane Emerson, I think. You will not obsess over your Dad’s text message. You will not compulsively check to see if he’s responded. He will not respond, and you will not check.

There.

That’s the end of it.

Soon, I walk over to the small conference room for a meeting. Jane and Ash join Millie, Lou, and me with takeout from the diner down the street. The town of Sugar Maple has a Southern Stars Hollow vibe that even an ice queen like me can appreciate. The diner isn’t Luke’s, but only because Scott Patterson doesn’t work there, it’s bigger, and you’re allowed to be on your cell phone.

On second thought, the only thing they have in common is that they’re both diners.

The food is top notch, though, and I’ve grown just the tiniest bit addicted to the Cheerwine, which they have on tap.

Last year, our CEO, Jane, took a job rebranding Sugar Maple Farms, one of the biggest farms in the country. She and the new owner fell in love, got married, and she’s now blissfully happy with her husband, Tripp. Chicago wasn’t home for any of the rest of us, and we can do our job anywhere, so we relocated along with her. Millie met Duke shortly afterwards, and now they’re married, too.

It used to be Jane, Millie, Ash, Lou, and me.

Now, we have additions. Jane + Tripp. Millie + Duke (+ Lottie, my favorite addition).

Tripp. Duke. Where did these guys get their names?

Parker + Sonny, a voice in my head taunts, but I shut that voice right up, because first off, Sonny is a totally normal nickname for Santino, and second, there is no Parker + Sonny.

Like everyone in my life, my inner voice heeds my warning and lets it go.

We tear into our food and discuss the different accounts and projects going on. We have a team of interns and a network of consultants who allow us to keep our overhead low and keep the Janes in Jane & Co. Millie is a licensed therapist, but she also works part time with us on consumer behavior. As our attorney, Lou works more on an “on demand” schedule. She has a Hannah Montana style secret identity—incognito YouTube sensation Lucy Jane—so in between her lawyering and travel, she also writes soulful music that leans a bit more folk than country, which she releases on her channel.

We go through updates and assignments, and by the end of the meeting, everyone has her piece of the puzzle. My piece is …

Light. Really light.

Huh.

It doesn’t mean there’s nothing for me to do. I have enough client inquiries that I could have two new accounts by Wednesday. Or maybe, just maybe, instead of adding more work to my schedule—work that will absolutely come—I could use this time to get another massage. Go on a walk for fun. Get a full night’s sleep instead of running through every account until midnight, missing my sleep window, and getting restless legs.

But knowing me, I’ll use the time to think about Sonny …

I’m about to ask Jane if I can take some of her load when she looks at something on her phone and sighs.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. Just something at the farm.”

“Tell me about it.”

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