Page 22 of Your Every Wish
“Dex, you promised.”
“I know, babe. But you don’t want me to pass up an opportunity like this. He only invited three of us. You of all people know how long I’ve worked to make it inside his inner circle. I turn down an invitation like this and in the blink of an eye, I’ll find myself on Digsby’s team again.” Dex had hated working for Mark Digsby, whose specialty was taking credit for other traders’ work.
“All right. I get it.” I’m not happy about it but it’s Dex’s career we’re talking about.
“Thank you for being understanding. I’m going to sleep now.”
“Okay. Call me tomorrow. Love you, Dex.”
I wait to hear the words back but all I get is the click of the phone. Oh well. It’s probably been a long day for him, too.
It’s too early to sleep, so I change into my pajamas and go outside to look at the stars. You can actually see them here, where the sky is always clear and the moon shines brighter than San Francisco streetlights. It smells good, too. Like fall and pine and wet earth.
I drag a battered plastic chair from the side of the house to the front yard and stare up at the sky, taking it all in. Somewhere in the distance an owl coos, the only noise in an otherwise still night.
A person can really think out here, which leads me to contemplate what I said to Dex about Kennedy. I like her, despite her snarkiness and cynicism. And bitterness. Because she’s got plenty of that. But she’s also tough and resilient and intuitive. The kind of woman who takes zero shit. Self-sufficient. She has the kind of traits that I guess I wish I had a little more of. And then there’s the whole familial thing. I feel it with her. From the first day she showed up at Townsend’s office it was there. A sibling connection.
Dex would say I’m imagining it, that I hardly know the woman, that I’m letting my eternal optimism—and insatiable need to be loved—tell me things that don’t exist. Even Mom, who is the most trusting soul in the world, says to be wary where Kennedy’s concerned.
“She sounds pushy,” Mom said when I told her that Kennedy was relentlessly pressing me to sell our inheritance. “She actually sounds a lot like your father. A bully.”
So, for once in my life, I’m going to err on the side of caution and not rush to embrace Kennedy as my long-lost sister. Business partners, yes. Because what choice do I have? But just because we share the same feckless father, the same DNA, doesn’t mean we have to be family, or even bosom buddies for that matter.
And I’m definitely not going to tell her the secret I know. The secret about Willy.
Kennedy
“How are you doing, dear? You look like you can’t catch your breath.”
That’s because it’s been five years since I was stupid enough to believe running is actually good for you, I want to scream. Instead, I bend over, hang onto my knees, and try not to vomit on Misty’s shiny white Keds tennis shoes.
“I ran that trail that follows the creek,” I manage to say. “It almost killed me.”
“I hope you remembered to bring bear spray.”
I glance up to see if she’s joking.
“I’m serious as a heart attack,” she says without any prompt from me. You’d think she was a mind reader. “They like our trash. Best to bring repellent next time. Or wear bells on your shoes, something to let them know you’re coming.”
There won’t be a next time, but I nod in acknowledgment anyway. The only thing that possessed me to go running in the first place was sheer boredom.
“Did Liam do a nice job on your window?”
So that’s his name. I straighten and press my palm into the small of my back. “He did. It was very kind of him.”
“He’s a kind young man. Single, too.”
“I’m seeing someone,” I lie.
“No, you’re not. But I was thinking of your sister.”
“She has a boyfriend.”
“If you can even call him that,” she says.
I wonder if Emma has mentioned the illustrious Dex to Misty. Or if she met him when he dropped Emma off here in the middle of nowhere and left her stranded in a broken-down trailer without a car or groceries. A real peach of a guy.
“Well, I better get going. I’m meeting some of the ladies at the clubhouse for coffee.”
