“Forget it. I’ll make you a big bowl of yummy macaroni here.” I walk into Abby’s tiny kitchen and take out a pan from the drawer under the stove.
“Reese, come sit. If Millie wants a hammy-burger tonight, she’s getting one,” Nick says in his caveman tone.
He’s so serious-looking I laugh.
“It’d have to be a solo trip since you’re not buying me that car seat. You really want to take the company car through a drive-thru by yourself just so my favorite rascal can have her kid’s meal?”
“What kind of savage do you think I am? I’m ordering delivery for everyone and then Miss Millie can pick our entertainment.” He stares through me, his eyes a shade softer.
And for the tenth time tonight, I’m speechless.
Good thing Millie picks up the slack. She claps her hands loudly and belts out one word every parent knows.
“Elsaaa!”
“One or two?” I ask, rummaging around for the remote.
“Both!” She throws her arms out at either side of her head.
“Both? I’m not sure we have time for that...”
If it bothers her, she doesn’t show it. She just grabs the remote out of my hands and starts mashing buttons with her chubby little fingers.
“Abby says Disney Plus is the best money she’s ever spent,” I say.
“I’d have to agree,” he tells me.
“What? You watch Disney Plus?” My brows go up.
“I own a hundred thousand shares of their company. Why wouldn’t I check out their products? Also, I’m a sucker for their superhero movies and what monster would ever turn down Aladdin?”
A messy laugh slips out of me. “You never struck me as a movie guy.”
“Now you know. Of course, I don’t watch those silly princess movies—”
Millie turns around and marches up to Nick, who’s now sitting on the ancient mauve couch.
“Yes?” he asks.
“Princesses are not silly,” Millie says sternly. “Anna saved her sister and Elsa saved her whole kingdom from the snow.”
“...didn’t Elsa cause the snow first?” Nick says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. My bad. Let’s refresh my memory; I only saw it once on a flight to Hawaii.”
Under my breath, I snicker. The idea of Nick flipping Brandt watching cartoons on a long flight pummels what’s left of my sanity tonight.
But it’s a good pummeling.
We settle in and watch Frozen, and when dinner arrives, we all eat our cheeseburgers and fries like we’re starving. It feels like the eye of the storm before a world of hurt lands tomorrow.
But as I watch Nick falling into the movie, somehow...
...somehow this hurricane doesn’t feel like the apocalypse.
When the movie ends, an instant delivery service leaves a car seat outside Abby’s door. Nick tries to drag it inside subtly and fails miserably.
I stab a glare at him from the sofa with a dozing little girl. But as he waves to me silently and slips out the door?
Yeah. I’m not even mad.
8
Sobering Thoughts (Nick)
Back at my place, huddled next to the fire, I call Ward.
“What’s up?”
“We need a temporary driver for tomorrow. Probably for the next week,” I say.
“Reese? If she’s going to be out for days, she needs a doctor’s note. HR policy, not mine. She can’t just go on vacation at crunch time without clearing it first,” he grumbles, ornery as ever.
“She had an emergency, Ward. She’s not going for a joyride.”
He pauses, softening his prickly voice as he asks, “What happened?”
“Family matter. I was with her when the call came in. It’s fairly serious,” I tell him, hoping he won’t pry.
My phone dings, announcing a text. I’ll check later. This has to be taken care of.
“Well, emergency or not, she’ll have to take it up with HR. It’s not good form to let employees come straight to you with their problems, even if they’re people we like, little brother. We have a command structure for a reason—treat everybody equally and minimize confusion. HR takes precedent with PTO. Nobody’s fault. It’s just policy.”
The way Paige dealt with HR? I want to say. I’m sure he’s forgotten about that, though.
The phone dings with a second text I ignore.
And why does he talk to me like I’m still the kid brother? We’re co-owners.
I don’t need lectures from my bear of a brother.
“I’ll have her talk to Susan, but I’ll vouch for her emergency personally. We should respect the gravity of the—”
“HR gets to decide if it’s a true emergency or not,” he says, cutting me off. “Reese is an excellent driver and a good employee. I’m not arguing that. But if we make exceptions for her, we have to do it for everyone. It’s easier sticking to blind policies, and since this isn’t something we deal with on a daily basis, Susan’s in a better position to know just what those policies are.”
I glower, hating that he’s still such a sucker for the tiniest rules when he broke at least a dozen with his fake-fiancée-turned-real-wife pact.