Page 16 of My Totally Unfair Deal

“Eliza…”

“I have a garden to tend to.” My voice cracks. “No, wait. I haveyourgarden to tend to.”

“Eliza, listen to me.” He tries to grab my arm, but I slip away from him.

I abandon the stupid fruit basket idea and rush across the property.

As hurt as I am by my brother’s idiotic plans, I refuse to let a single tear fall down my face.

What the hell is he thinking?

SEVEN (B)

ELIZA

In the morning, I avoid my brother at all costs.

I ask Janey—my best friend and our farm’s event specialist—to handle the early prep, while I spend the dawn hours tending to the little things Jackson always takes for granted.

Between setting out fresh-cut flowers, gathering eggs from the henhouse, and polishing the wooden signs that line our gravel driveway, I lean into the routines my mother once taught me—the ones that keep this place running ten times smoother.

As I fold towels into miniature bunnies for the welcome baskets, my gaze drifts up to the framed photo of my mother. With her wavy red hair, the constellation of freckles across her nose, and those striking emerald eyes, I could pass for her twin.

The grief hits out of nowhere.

To keep from breaking down, I pull out one of her old scrapbooks and flip through the thick, crinkling pages—each one heavy with memories. I’m halfway through a spread of her in the kitchen—laughing in an apron, flour dusting her cheeks—when there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Can I come in?” Janey’s voice is tentative, but she’s already stepping into the room, a tray of my favorite tea in her hands.

“As long as you promise not to bring up my brother or his friend,” I warn.

“Oh, so you get to blow up my phone with a thousand texts and voicemails, but I don’t get to say a word?” She arches a brow.

“Exactly.”

“Fine.” She shrugs, carrying the tray over to the table. “Your brother is still number one on my hot-as-hell list. But I just ran into him and his New York friend, and I gotta say—he might have some competition.”

“Did younothear what I just said about discussing them?”

“If you weren’t my best friend, I’d totally bang your brother.”

“Okay.” I point toward the hallway. “You can’t be in here anymore.”

“I’m done now, I swear.” She laughs and plops beside me, gently tugging the scrapbook from my hands. She flips straight to her favorite page—me, age six, twirling in a matching skirt set with Mom, both of us drowning in ruffles and too-big sunhats.

“You think if she were still here, she’d slap the hell out of Jackson for me?” I ask.

“No…” Janey shakes her head. “Lance might, though.”

“I’ll write back to him the next time he sends a card and see how long it takes him to get here,” I say. “He wouldn’t stand for Jackson belittling me.”

“I don’t think Jackson’s trying to belittle you at all,” she says. “He’s had your back since forever, and he’s ready to fight anyone just for giving you a side-eye.”

“So, you think I need charm school, too?” My voice turns sharp. “You honestly believe I need help in that department?”

She picks up a teacup and takes a long, slow sip.

“Oh, I see,” I say, nodding. “So, you’re a traitor, too…”

---