The Boss Project
“I didn’t say I was disappointed.”
“Didn’t have to. Your face did.”
I rolled my eyes as if he was crazy. Thankfully, the doors started to slide closed a few seconds later. I wiggled my fingers. “’Night, boss. Sweet dreams.”
“Oh, they will be, Dr. Vaughn.”
• • •
The next morning, I baked up a storm. My sister padded out from the bedroom, squinting at the sun streaming in through the kitchen window like it was her archenemy.
“Why do you always open the blinds so much?”
“Umm… To let in some sunshine? You should’ve been a vampire. It’s almost ten o’clock.”
Greer walked over and pulled the blinds closed before leaning across the other side of the kitchen counter. She reached for the plate of unfrosted cupcakes that were cooling, but I swatted her away. “Those are for Mr. Duncan.”
“Who the hell is Mr. Duncan, and is he letting you crash at his place rent free?”
“Fine. Have one. But that’s it. Mr. Duncan lives in 4B. He’s got that cute little four-year-old daughter who always wears a backward baseball cap and braids.”
My sister’s face scrunched up. “Do I live in the same building as you?”
I laughed. “Don’t you know anyone?”
“This is New York. We don’t make friends with our neighbors. We put our AirPods in and avoid eye contact at all costs when we pass other humans in the hallway.”
“Well, not me. I met him on the elevator a few times. He’s a single dad. He owns the cell phone repair shop a few doors down. Anyway, tomorrow is his daughter’s birthday. She wants to bring cupcakes to nursery school. He said he was a horrible baker, so I traded him two dozen for a screen repair.”
“You broke your phone, too?”
“No, I use a case, so that doesn’t happen. Unlike you. The repair is for you, silly. He said it will take about ten minutes. Just pop in and tell him you’re my sister.”
“Oh, awesome. Thank you.” She sighed and slouched. “I wish I had your energy. I started a new batch of hormones to get ready for the next round of IVF, and they’re sucking the life out of me.”
I frowned. “Sorry.”
Greer waved me off. “Not your fault. Hey—what do you call men with a low sperm count?”
“I don’t know, what?”
“Incum Inequality.”
I laughed. “I hope you didn’t share that with your sweet husband.”
She shoved the rest of the cupcake in her mouth. “Of course I did. And since we’re on the subject of sperm, how was your date last night? That Will was hot, too. Is every guy gorgeous where you work?”
“I told you, it wasn’t a date.”
“He picked you up and broke your zipper. What do I call it, a hookup?”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t like that at all. The zipper was stuck, and I asked him to try to wiggle it down, but it tore away from the dress. We just went to a work function together. I’m new, so the boss asked him to ride with me so he could introduce me around when we arrived. He disappeared an hour after we got there with some woman who’d been making googly eyes at him since the minute we walked in. Plus, he’s not my type.”
“Oh…” She nodded. “So he’s faithful and not a douche?”
“Let’s not remind me about Christian. I actually haven’t given him much thought lately.”
“Well, that’s good. Maybe it’s time you move on, then. You know, put yourself out there.”