Page 14 of The Problem with Perfect

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“I can’t believe there are only a few months left until you open a frickin’ pub!”

My sister bounces on her toes next to me as we stare at the boxes of pasta and jars of sauce on the grocery aisle, trying to narrow down what we want to make for dinner.

“I hope you know I will be taking advantage of the 90% family discount.”

I scoff. “Because that’s a thing.”

Abby bumps me with her shoulder and winks. “I mean, if you’re taking suggestions, I would definitely drop that one in the box.” She pauses. “Along with my previous offering of my name to go on one of your drinks.”

Rolling my eyes, I retrieve a box of farfalle from the shelf.

“Don’t act like it’s a bad idea. Youknoweveryone wants a good, old-fashioned Abbysinthe.”

At that, I actually laugh. “Where did you come up with that?”

“My own mind.” She taps her temple. “I’ve got a bunch of incredible ideas up here that I’d be willing to share.” Abby shrugs. “All you gotta do is ask.”

Shaking my head, I snag a jar of vodka sauce and set it in my basket next to the pasta. “You’re a menace, Fuller, you know that?”

She just beams at me. “I learned from the best.”

We get to the end of the aisle and split, Abby heading to the produce section to grab some garlic and fresh tomato for me to add to the sauce, me off to the liquor aisle to select a bottle of wine. I’ve got plenty of bottles at home, but I usually get a few new ones before heading to the little house Abby and Briar share on the other side of the lake for our Tuesday-night family dinners.

It’s partially because I know any wine Abby would pick would be a poor pairing for whatever I’m cooking—she just doesn’t have a knowing palette—but also partially because I’m her big brother and it’s always nice to have a sibling with more money pick up the tab for little luxuries like nicer bottles of wine.

It’s been fun, doing these dinners at Abby’s, though I’m always hyperaware of being the fifth wheel. Abby’s dating my friend Jackson, and her roommate Briar is dating my other buddy, Andy. It’s a good time for sure, all of us usually drinking too much wine and ending the night with a card game or, as the weather has gotten warmer, sitting outside for a campfire. But there is a touch of discomfort in wondering if the two girls would rather just have dinner with their boyfriends instead of inviting me to tag along.

I’ve been my sister’s only family since she was in high school, so I never know if she’s looking at me for brotherly comfort or fatherly advice, and sometimes I wonder if that bleeds into what role I take in her life. Tonight, though, it’ll just be me and Abs. Jackson is an investor in a few companies and is in Washington meeting with a potential new partner, and Briar and Andy are out of town for that bouquet thing. I’m looking forward to a little quality time with my sister, something I used to take for granted when she lived with me.

“Hey, man.”

I turn, one eyebrow rising at the sight of Connor and Stace strolling toward me, hand in hand. It feels impossibly unfair that I keep bumping into this guy when I can’t even remember the last time I saw him before the past couple of days, but I guess that’s just how life works.

“Hey.”

I give them what I think might be a friendly smile then return my attention to the wall of wine, hoping Connor will take the hint and leave me alone.

He doesn’t.

“Grabbing wine for dinner?” he asks, eyeing the basket I’m leaning against.

“Yup.”

“So are we.”

I bob my head then reach out to snag the nearest Syrah, not even pausing to read the label. I just want whatever I can get quickly so I can wave goodbye and head in the opposite direction.

“Got the tomatoes, but they’re out of garlic.”

Abby drops a bag of red and orange heirlooms into my cart then grins and says a friendly hello to the couple standing a few feet away. I’m not sure if Abby knows Connor at all since he’s a bit younger than she is, but I don’t want to risk the two of them striking up a conversation, so I begin to walk away.

“Alright, well, I guess we’ll see you around.”

“Oh wait,” Connor says, halting my movements. “We need to talk about the double date.”

I wince, dread filling me.

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