Page 68 of The Fun Part
“Your jeans are a mess,” I tell him.
“Small price to pay to save the day.”
We sit on the stools along the side counter. I ask him about his work. He seems to be finding his footing with his new small-town client roster. Even managing some neighborly disputes, which there are a lot of around here. The funniest is a case of a wandering cat who was taken in by a neighbor and now refuses to go back to her original owner.
“You really like it here,” I say.
He smiles. “I do.”
My phone vibrates with a text. Sutton:I can’t take the job. Sorry.
I frown and show it to him.
“Shit.” He pulls his phone out. “Calling her.” A few moments later, he exclaims, “You’re engaged? What happened? Are you pregnant?”
I gesture for him to lower his voice. He shakes his head, mouths, “Later,” and heads out the door.
He stalks down the sidewalk, looking pissed. This is not good.
16
Cal
This is complete garbage. Sutton’s engaged to the cheating loser who claimed he didn’t want marriage. I swear he only proposed to hold her back from a job that’s a great opportunity for her. She says he finally realized how much she meant to him. Right.
I slept on it, hoping to get a fresh perspective on things, and now I know what I need to do—book a flight back home. I need to see my little sister in person to talk sense into her.
After a quick shower and coffee, I sit on the sofa with my phone and search for some nonstop flights. I find one for next weekend, book it, and text Sutton that I’m coming out for a visit.
A few moments later, she texts:You don’t need to come out here. You just started a new job.
Me:I want to. An engagement is a big deal.
Sutton:Next week is Mom and Dad’s anniversary. It’ll be good if you’re here.
I scrub a hand over my face. I forgot about that. The days leading up to the anniversary are hard on Dad. Really, any reminder is enough to send him to a dark place. A visit is longoverdue, and hopefully it’ll be good for him to have both his kids home. He’s become more of a recluse as he’s aged. If Sutton didn’t take care of him, I’m not sure he would. That’s a whole other problem.
So my weekend mission is twofold—make sure Dad takes better care of himself (or find him care) and find a tactful way of convincing Sutton not to marry John. She’s too good for him.
The intercom buzzes. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I go over to it. “Yeah?”
“It’s Mackenzie.”
Shit. She hasn’t been here since our movie night during our brief fake-dating relationship. The apartment’s a mess. I’ve been busy with work and not quite myself. I didn’t bounce back like I normally do after things fizzled out between us.
I buzz her in. Then I do a quick cleanup, grabbing piles of mail, clothes, and leftover coffee mugs from around the living room. Mugs go in the kitchen.
She knocks on the door.
“Just a minute!” I pile everything else on the bedroom dresser and shut the door. Then I take my time walking to the front door, belatedly running a hand through my hair.
“Hi,” she says. “Hope you don’t mind me stopping by unannounced. I was wondering if Sutton’s okay. She didn’t tell me much about why she was turning down the job after accepting it.”
“She’s marrying that loser, who’s determined to keep her now that she wants to leave. I’m flying out next weekend to talk sense into her.”
“I’ll go with you.”
I stare at her blankly. “Why?”
