Page 25 of One Touch

It would take a few weeks to fully complete the porch project, but the crew had made good headway in ensuring the underlying structures were safe. The smell of rain was already clinging to the thick summer air. I stared down the driveway.

Where the hell was she?

After Kate came outside this morning in nothing but thin pajamas, my focus was shot. When she’d left me a warm cup of coffee despite my surly attitude, guilt rode my ass all day. I’d pushed the crew harder and made certain they could accommodate her request for an open concept, wraparound porch.

The crew would put in the labor, but I’d make sure it was perfect.

As the minutes ticked by, I grew impatient. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pulled up Duke’s number.

Me

Seen your sister around?

Duke

Book club most likely. Want to come over and watch the game?

I checked the time again and considered a low-key night with Duke versus another solitary one in my temporary home. I glanced down the driveway again.

Me

No, thanks. I’m beat.

I huffed another impatient breath as I tapped my middle finger against my thigh.

I should go. No reason to wait around.

I dug my keys from the pocket of my jeans, but paused when my phone rang.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Hi, dear. It’s your mother. Not sure if you remember me.”

Tension bunched in my shoulders. Speaking with my mother always came with an extra serving of guilt. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Busy as always. Your father and I have been looking at places in Malta.”

“Another vacation?”

She laughed. “No. For winters.”

Ah, yes. Of course. Another overpriced vacation home that will remain largely unlived in but make for perfect social media pictures.

“Anyway,” she continued. “Have you spoken to your brother? I think he’s having a midlife crisis.”

“He’s twenty-five.”

“Well, what else would you call it when he breaks up with the love of his life, galivants around the city withtrash, and then when I politely ask him about it, doesn’t call me for six weeks?”

Kate was the love of his life? Jesus.

Mother rattled on despite my silence. “I’m going to need you here on Saturday. The Feldman gala. I told the Johnsons you’d be available to talk about their ideas for their in-home au pair suite.”

I stifled a groan. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I’m working.”

“Working? Where are you?”

I dragged a hand over the back of my neck. “Outtatowner, actually.”

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