Page 93 of One and Only

She sighed, folding some old T-shirts into a neat pile. “A few days. I’m almost done, and I still have no idea what I want to do with my life.” She paused, her motions slowing. “How did you know you wanted to be an interior designer?”

I laughed. “When I failed a math test in middle school because I was too busy sketching in the margins to actually answer any of the questions.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Got zero percent. And Mom and Dad never disciplined me for it.” With a shake of my head, I pulled a sweatshirt from a pile, tossing it into the box when she grimaced. “I watched Dad build all these amazing houses growing up. See them from start to finish, beg him to take me to jobsites so I could imagine where the furniture would go and what paint colors they’d choose. I’ve always wanted to be a part of that—helping people create the spaces where they’ll live their life. Cameron did too, so we just … never thought about doing anything else with our lives but keeping that legacy of Wilder Homes going.”

My little sister stared down at her hands. “I wish it was that clear for me.”

I didn’t try to talk her out of the way she was feeling. At her age, just twenty-two, I was already neck-deep in running Wilder Homes with Cameron and loving every single second. Our whole family was like that—a bone-deep certainty of what we were meant to do. Erik played football. Ian made fancy-pants custom wood furniture for a company in London. Adaline had a successful event planning business in Seattle. Cameron always knew he’d be a builder. Parker followed in Erik’s footsteps, his own football legacy gaining steam even though he’d only played professionally for a few years.

And lagging just a little bit behind, just as she had in her arrival to the family, was Poppy.

Maybe because we’d all doted on her so much, she’d spent so many years following us around in our various pursuits, her own wasn’t quite as clear.

“You’ll figure it out,” I told her. “I think you should just enjoy this part of your life while you’re in it.”

She gave me a look. “The part where I’m single, twenty-two, and still sleeping in my childhood bedroom.”

“Hell yeah,” I said. “No rent. No maintenance. Mom’s baking. You’re winning by any definition.”

Poppy smiled. “I feel like everything in my life is just … on pause.”

I pulled another batch of hangers out. Her voice had taken on that sad tone. Like everyone’s did when Dad’s health came up. “I know.”

She pointed at the donate box when I held up a bright-pink button-down shirt. “Dad keeps having more bad days than good,” she said quietly. “And I know I can’t just sit around here and wait for…” Her voice trailed off. “For something to change. But I can’t help it. I want to be here if he needs me.”

“You know Dad doesn’t want any of us not living our life because of this,” I told her. “Especially you, Pops. You’re right about to step into all the good stuff.” I folded a shirt in half. “A career, maybe love,” I said with a grin. “There’s a lot of time for that, though. You’re just a baby,” I teased, ruffling the top of her hair.

She snorted. “Of course you’d say that. You run off and get married and leave me with just the boys to commiserate with about being single. They’re worthless.”

I thought about our brothers with a shake of my head. “They truly are. Cameron needs a woman with more patience than a saint because he’s such a know-it-all. Parker needs someone who will knock him on his ass.Hard.”

Poppy nodded. “Gawd, that would be so gratifying.”

“Right?” I shivered. “Hopefully, someone gets it on camera, and we can watch it on a loop when we’re having a bad day.”

Our eyes met, and we burst into laughter.

“Ian is …” My eyebrows rose slowly.

She laughed. “Impossible? Mom said he’s thinking about moving back home from London, though.”

“That’s good.”

Poppy chewed on her bottom lip. “Speaking of married life…”

“Were we?” I mumbled, turning to face into her closet so she couldn’t see my wince. “What about it?”

“Adaline doesn’t tell me anything,” she groaned. “I just want to know—”

When her voice cut off, I glanced at her over my shoulder. Her cheeks were bright pink.

“Poppy, are you trying to ask sex questions?” I teased.

“Fuck you, okay?” she said without heat. “I had one shitty, boring, entirely forgettable experience with that idiot kid from my study group my sophomore year of college, and I know there’s more out there than shitty, boring, and entirely forgettable.”

I laughed. “Yes, there is. The right person will be the exact opposite of those things.”

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