Page 29 of All Twerk, No Play

Mallory's lip wavered. She whispered, “I can’t do this alone. You know I never planned to start a business. Teaching yoga was the only thing I was good at.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn’t even know how much money I made, kept forgetting to pay myself until I hired you,” she told Grace. My grip on my phone tightened, digging into my palm. “I feel like I figured out how to run the current place, and now doubling it? Without you? It’s … it’s a lot.”

The three of them stood in a little cocoon, Grace comforting Mallory with Alexander hovering over them. He told his sister, “Don’t leap into something you’re not ready for.”

Mallory’s watery eyes met mine. “Can I think about it?”

I nodded calmly, counting down the minutes until I could find a tenant who respected the value of my offer. One who would pay three times as much as I was offering Mallory out of the goodness of my goddamn heart.

Guess that was the price of being altruistic.

Alexander herded them towards the elevator. He lingered behind while I turned off the lights … preventing me from smashing my foot over a mannequin’s neck.

“Come on, Victoria,” he said, tone pacifying like he was talking a petulant child down from a tantrum … even though I was being reasonable while he talked my potential tenant out of a deal. “Connor’s waiting upstairs with champagne to celebrate your new building.”

Is that why he was rushing back upstairs? A wave of relief hit me at his thoughtful recognition of the milestone.

“This may be a Navy town, but you’re not smashing the bottle against those gorgeous columns out front,” I said. “Thank you for planning this.”

“Oh, it wasn’t my idea. Grace thought we should celebrate.”

There went my good mood. She had to be so fuckingnice, didn’t she? Her fake sweetness was going to give me diabetes.

As the elevator doors slid shut, I stabbed the third-floor button and gave my reflection a silent pep talk that I’d handled setbacks larger than an indecisive tenant. But when the doors opened, a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

Connor lifted a cheap pink teacup.

Mallory raised her pinkie.

And a little girl’s giggle rang out through my foyer.

"Good 4 U," Olivia Rodrigo

Victoria

Iwasawomanwho always had a plan, but for the first time in over a decade, I didn’t know how to react.

None of my plans involved children.

On Grace’s lap in a tufted leather chair perched a little girl with a ridiculously oversized bow in her hair. She dropped her teacup—mercifully Grace steadied it on the coffee table—and sprinted closer, making me flinch.

The next thing I knew, my business partner—the only man my family ever approved that I didn’t actively detest—hoisted the little girl into his arms.

“This place is so beautiful! You really work here?” the girl yelled in a grating, high-pitched voice as she wrapped herself around his neck. Grace, Connor and Mallory all looked sheepishly into their teacups.

He lowered her and took her hand, walking her close. “Ruby, this is my friend, Victoria.” I held out my hand, and the little girl shook it vigorously. “Victoria, this is Grace and my foster daughter, Ruby.”

My eyes snapped up in alarm. His widened in a non-verbal request not to make a scene. I looked down and forced out, “Nice to meet you, Ruby.”

“Have you ever been to a tea party?” The little girl gripped her full skirt, twirling slightly.

My breath hitched, momentarily stealing my words.

“Victoria’s been to more fancy parties than you can imagine,” Alexander said to fill my silence, shooting me a look of,‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“I…I used to love tea parties when I was your age,” I said, even though I had no fucking idea how old she was. Hopefully she was potty trained. “For my birthday, my mother took me to afternoon tea at the Plaza.”

“Where Eloise lives?” She gripped my hand. “I love that book! Can you take me there?” Before I could extract my hand from her sticky fingers, she dragged me over to the coffee table. “Did your tea parties look like this? Scoot over, Connor.”

She climbed back onto Grace’s lap, lifting a tiny ceramic teapot. Alexander watched with arms crossed, expression stony.

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