Page 1 of Things I Overshared
Chapter 1
Uh-oh.
Let me think, let me think, let me think.
Why would Skye be calling me?
She never, never, never calls.
My introverted older sister could be bleeding out in a dirty ditch surrounded by axe murderers in clown masks, and she’d still text instead of call, and probably only “911” and her location.
Still, fun to get an unexpected call . . . unless it’s Dad? Or one of Susan’s kids?Dear Lord, who’s died?!
“Skye? What’s wrong?” I gasp at my desk, almost spilling my coffee as I answer.
“Hey, Sam, are you sitting down?”
“Crap, yes! No, I was. Now I’m not. Is it Dad? Grandpa? Oh, it’s Grandpa, isn’t it?”
I hear my sister through the speaker, cackling like I imagine a gleeful female Voldemort would laugh. I sigh and feel my cardiac rhythm begin to slow from arrest levels, but just barely. “Skye? This is not funny! I just lost a decade of my life! An entire decade!”
“Oh, the drama. Man, I am so glad I happened to hear about this first so I could be the one to tell you.”
“Tell me what, you horrible wench of a sister? What?!” I yell way too loudly and then clench my fists, mad at myself for getting away from, well, myself, so quickly. And in my office with my door open. Just adding to the jokes and nicknames I already inspire.Fantastic.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” She chuckles. “So, you know you’ve been getting Darrin ready for the big Europe trip in two weeks?”
“Obviously, yes, it’s my whole life right now.”
“Well, turns out Nina is super knocked up and didn’t know it, already in the second trimester,” she says slowly.
“Aw! A little baby Darrin! So cuuuuuute!” I chime in, unable to help myself. My boss is such a fun, lovable guy, and his wife even more so. He’s about 5'5", and she’s even shorter, both so sweet . . . the thought of them in miniature squishy baby form? Ovary explosion!
“Yes. Adorable. Anyway. Focus. He’s not comfortable leaving her for over a month, so that means his second-in-command needs to go in his place.”
Oh no, all my weeks of meticulous planning! Are they canceling the . . . wait, she said . . .
“His . . . second . . . ?”
Brain.
Malfunction.
He’s the VP of sales.
I am his senior director of sales, his right-hand man, er, woman.
Me. I am his second.
“That’s me!” I inhale the words.
“Aaaaand there it is! Yes, you. You’re going to London, Sam!” Skye exclaims happily, very unlike herself.
“WHAT!” It’s all finally hitting me, and I’ve yelled again with my door open.Dang it! But also! I’m. Going. To. London. And. Paris!“Yep, you get to go on the big ‘shake hands, kiss babies tour’ of Europe, the London convention, Paris, the gala!”
“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!”I can’t believe it.
“Listen, I know it’s been a hard year, and I know you hate that I’m moving out soon, and I’ve been staying at Matthew’s—you’ve been alone a lot—so I’m so happy for you. We all are, we’re all so glad you get to do this, Bob.” The nickname makes me smile. “You deserve it. You’ve earned it.”
