“We didn’t finish our conversation last night about the dinner party.” She raises the mug to her mouth, carefully blowing the steam away. “So Lex and I will be heading out that night. Are you sure you can handle all the girls?”
I brush it off like it’s nothing, trying to disguise the mild panic. “It’s only for one night, right? How hard can it be?”
Addison throws her cup across the table, smacking Ava in the face who, in turn, drops her iPad into her bowl of cereal. She begins to cry, and with Charlie telling Addison off for being naughty, the quiet kitchen suddenly becomes a zoo.
Shit! What have I gotten myself into?
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, praying to God that their dinner is canceled. Maybe I could convince Mom to visit for the weekend. Stop panicking already! I change the subject to curb my growing anxiety. “So, tell me more about Haden Cooper, and what should I expect from him as a boss.”
“Let’s see…” she clears her throat, and begins, “… he’s very passionate about publishing. To be honest, I don’t know much about the business side of Haden. We usually get together only for social gatherings. His wife Presley and I have playdates.”
“Publishing. It’s an interesting change of career for me.”
“Well, you’re in marketing. Marketing books can’t be that hard?”
“The fact that no one reads books anymore makes it difficult,” I point out.
“Trust me,” she says confidently. “Your generation may be all about
gadgets and shit, but books are still very much alive.”
“Yeah, for horny housewives.”
“That’s so sexist and so not true,” she exaggerates, shaking her head in disagreement.
“Really?” I humor her. “Tell me what book you’re currently reading on your Kindle.” I motion toward it, sitting on the countertop.
She narrows her brows, crossing her arms because she knows I’m right. She may be in her thirties, but she still has the same angry pout she had when she was ten years old.
“A book about a strong, independent woman.”
“Uh-huh, and what genre is that book in?”
“Erotic romance.” She coughs.
I laugh hysterically, continuing as Lex walks into the room and greets us. Like Charlie, he’s dressed and ready for work, wearing a navy suit and collared white business shirt. Armani. I know my brand names.
Lex is tall—much taller than me. I’d say six-foot-two. If you didn’t know him or weren’t related to him like I am, you could definitely see why he comes across as intimidating. It has something to do with his eyes—they’re very green.
Back when I was a kid and Charlie was seventeen, there was a rumor going around town that she was having an affair with Lex. He was a couple of years older than her and, at the time, married. Mom mentioned it here and there, but I have selective hearing when it comes to gossip. Especially when it involves my cousin screwing a married man.
Lex places his laptop on the table, along with his cell.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, grabbing some coffee and sitting across from us.
“Proving your wife wrong. That books are a dying breed and the only people who read are horny housewives.”
He laughs along with me, infuriating Charlie. “Funnily enough, women count for the majority of our books sales. Specifically, in the erotica genre.”
“Thanks for having my back.” Charlie gritted her teeth.
Lex’s smile remains fixed. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Kudos to the authors who write the smut that turns you on.”
I’m grateful that Lex and Charlie allow me to stay in their home. But the downside—they’re awfully affectionate with each other. It’s quite sickening really. Thank God the guest bedroom is located on a different floor than theirs. I would hate to be next door. It explains why they have three kids.
“Okay, guys. Awkward. I’m going to shower and when I come back, I expect both of you to behave. Three kids is enough. Uncle Noah doesn’t need any more madness in his life,” I remind them.
I walk to my room and grab my clothes, hopping into the shower. After the shower, then shaving, I change into my crisp, white shirt and charcoal gray pants. Charlie said the office isn’t overly formal and suggested I keep the tie at home. I splash on some aftershave, and make my way back to the kitchen, stopping just shy of the door. I hear an unfamiliar voice, a woman, and the accent is distinctively British. Eavesdropping on the conversation, I stand behind the entrance.