“Night, Dad.”
***
I GET A SOLID SIX HOURS of sleep in, go for a run to clear and invigorate my mind, and spend a few hours with my mother and sister in the kitchen. They try like hell to get me to want to learn to cook, but I suck at it.
They tease me endlessly about my knack for numbers—and even claim baking is about fractions and time, an easy word problem—but it’s never clicked. Maybe it’s because I have no passion for it. I don’t really care about learning how to cook.
If an apocalypse happens and there are no more restaurants or take out and for whatever reason my family isn’t there to cook for me, I’m sure I’ll be able to pull some ingredients together.
In the meantime, this is one area I have no desire to get better at.
“You’re going to cut your fingers off.” Cami takes the knife from me and hip-checks me to the side. “Curl your fingers in like this.”
I step aside and watch my sister dice the cucumber. “You’re pretty good at that, Cami.” I kiss the top of her head and move to the other end of the counter, plucking a grape from the bowl and popping it in my mouth.
“You’re such a loser,” Cami drawls. “Nice way to get out of cutting vegetables.”
“I call myself a winner.” I wink at her and toss a grape in the air, catching it between my teeth. “You look like the loser now.”
“You two,” our mother says with a shake of her head and a soft laugh.
She’s used to all of us sparring and passing the buck. As the baby of the family, Camilla will always be the spoiled princess, so my brothers and I make it our job to bring her down a notch.
All in good fun. Cami is an awesome little sister. With six years between us, I didn’t spend much time with her when we were in school. She was in middle school when I was to high school, and I was starting up my company when she finally made it to college.
Cami appears to be the spoiled princess on the outside, running a successful YouTube channel and being a social media influencer. Her career path is unconventional, but I’m proud of her for it. One of the main topics I present at conferences and what I encourage the companies I counsel, is thinking outside the box when it comes to making income and marketing.
My sister is queen of that.
“You two are doing a great job in here,” I say as I walk over to my mother to hug her from behind. “I don’t want to screw anything up so I’m gonna see what Dad is up to. Help him with the ribs.”
“You and your father are one in the same.” Mom rolls her eyes. “It’s a lot of work watching ribs slow cook on the smoker. I’m glad he’ll have you out there with him.”
“Glad I can be of service.”
“No wonder you’re still single,” Cami calls to my retreating back.
If it was one of my brothers, I would have flipped them off. Instead, I gave my sister a wave over my shoulder.
An hour later, Nick, his wife Skylar, their three-year-old daughter Gabby, Holden, and Emerson arrive. Mother Nature gifts us with a gorgeous sixty-eight-degree day on the last weekend in March. Unheard of in Maine. We congregate on the back deck overlooking the ocean.
My father turns on the heat lamps to take the bite out of the breeze coming off the ocean. I’m at ease hanging out with my family but watching my brothers settle down makes me feel a little disconnected.
Being a math nerd in school, I was used to not fitting in with crowds. When I took off for college, I never felt out of place again. My self-confidence grew, and I learned how powerful intelligence and confidence could be.
I went from being looked over to being looked up to. If it wasn’t for my family, I could see how easy it would be for someone to let the power trip go to their head, to change them into a narcissistic asshole who has no time or care for the common people, as I’ve heard many other CEOs refer to who weren’t in their inner circle.
My family keeps me grounded, which I appreciate, but it sets me apart from some of the other business execs in Austin. The only place I truly fit in is right here, with my parents, brothers, and sister.
Granted, my brothers’ attention is now more on their wives, and my sister has a social group that circles the globe. Quite literally.
I lean against the railing of the deck pretending to listen to Holden tell our father about the Stingray he’s rebuilding while really, my mind wanders to Reese. Her taste lingers on my lips even days later, and her scent still fills my car. In between meetings, conference calls, and meeting my new employees, I managed to squeeze in pictures of Reese’s naked breasts in my mind.
Work takes up too much real estate in my mind; I want more Reese time, in person, preferably, which is stupid. She’s fling material.
And then I remember what she said yesterday when I saw her at the credit union. I assumed she was a new teller in training, and she lashed out at me, for what I don’t know.
The buzzing in my head when I stood in front of her had muffled some of what she said. I was so shocked to see her, so turned on by her in a tasteful light blue top that I hadn’t fully comprehended what she had said about her name plate.