Page 1 of Too Sweet

chapter

one

Carter

This business expo is humming with hopeful faces and bright ideas—and most of these ideas will send folks into bankruptcy in a hot minute.

A restaurant boasting a zero-carb menu? The stuff of nightmares.

A horror-movie-themed mini golf course? I love horror, but good luck with the licensing for that.

An app that uses AI to break up with people so you don’t have to have a real conversation? Success!—in making me hate humans even more than I already do.

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into these things,” I grumble.

My twin brother, Cooper, doesn’t hear me complaining. He’s too busy working the room.

One of the last things I wanted to do on a sunny Saturday morning was drive downtown, pay for parking, and sit behind a booth with my extroverted twin brother in a crowded ballroom.

Even lower on that list would be to give people false hope to achieve their cockamamie dreams. I don’t have the personality to let people down easy.

“Sitting behind the booth” is a bit of a misnomer for what we do. I’m the one sitting behind the booth trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Cooper is quickly becoming the “mayor” of Entrepreneurial Expo 2024.

Cooper is out there shaking hands and making introductions and generally being the perfectly mannered, perfectly coiffed pain in the ass that he is.

“And what would you rather be doing? Sitting at home and counting our inheritance, Scrooge McDuck?” Cooper asks without eye contact, scanning the crowd for—who knows? The most inspiring backstory?

He finally turns when he hears my not-so-subtle harrumph. My older-by-seven-minutes twin stares back at me, radiating confidence and coolness. He may look exactly like me to the untrained eye, but he couldn’t be more different. He’s approachable, gregarious, and ready for anything. I’m…not that.

I reply, “I’d much rather be at home, sitting by the pool with my laptop, setting up an actual budget for our investment firm before you go jumping into uncharted waters.”

He barks a laugh, pointing at me. “I knew it! You do love the new swimming pool.”

I sigh in resignation, which he can’t hear over the din.

When our great-aunt Gabriella passed away, she had no immediate heirs to her fortune. Unbeknownst to Cooper and me, Aunt Gabby had named us sole beneficiaries in her will. In light of our parents’ passing while we were still in college, such a generous inheritance seemed fitting to Aunt Gabby. We never expected a hand out from her — not this big of a handout, anyway.

As long as Cooper and I had known Aunt Gabby, she was always busy doing something, yet never spent a full day at the office. She was out there trying new things. Parasailing, BASE jumping, trying out for challenge reality shows, taking tap dance lessons.

Her funeral saw thousands of people lining up to mourn her passing as a result of a mountain climbing accident, but it turned into a celebration of her extraordinary life. She never married, had no children, but she took many young people under her wing that Cooper and I agreed on one thing: to carry on her legacy of being a friend and mentor to many, we would set up an investment firm to help budding entrepreneurs achieve their dreams.

When I started combing through her assets, I understood how she funded her lifestyle. She had partial ownership in a casino, a share in multiple professional sports teams, sat on the boards of several international broadcast networks, owned a dozen rental properties in the Hamptons, and invested in several luxury car dealerships. That list is only her most prestigious holdings. The woman collected commercial property in Vegas, New York, LA, and a dozen other major cities like some people collect stamps.

And now, all of these assets belong to Cooper and me.

The windfall arrived like a hurricane. One day we weren’t sure how we would finish paying off our student loans. The next day, we were billionaires.

And it could not have come at a better time. Since we graduated college—me with a degree in accounting and Cooper with a degree in disc golf—Aunt Gabby rented out one of her apartments to us at a reduced rate in exchange for upkeep and maintenance.

Accounting nerd that I am, I immediately set limits on our spending in exchange for managing our newfound wealth. I allowed each of us one major splurge.

Cooper chose to build the pool, which I said at the time was unwise and a money pit.

My splurge was to pay for my college buddies to hike the Appalachian Trail with me in style—all top-of-the-line equipment and all expenses paid. Cooper had scoffed at this idea as much as I’d scoffed at his pool idea. But I have to admit—coming home to a luxurious patio, pool house, and a custom saltwater pool after months of shitting in the woods and bathing in creeks was pretty sweet.

“Are you ever going to stop mocking me for changing my mind about the pool?” I ask.

“No. I rarely get that great of an idea.”

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