I tensed, fists clenching at my sides, jaw tight. She had no idea. I felt the surge of anger, that familiar urge to lash out, butI kept asshole Lincoln in check. Because her words left no room for excuses.
Carmen stepped closer, hoop earrings glinting, her hand landing behind my neck, pressing, so I’d lean down. “You think because she doesn’t want you doing her work for her, there’s no need for you?”
She drilled her eyes into me. “What do you think Curt’s going to do if she wins that pitch? Everyone realizing how and why he let her go.”
I clenched my fists at my sides. My mind screamed at the urge to lash out and control. But the truth cut through: that wouldn’t help her. It never had.
“What do you think Natasha’s going to do once she sees Nina’s scheduled to pitch for BrightMark?” Her voice didn’t waver, and neither could I. Old patterns—the rage, the bullying instinct— threatened to take over, but Carmen’s words forced me to see the bigger picture.
“You want to do what you’re comfortable doing? Lash out, and go all stalkery every time she sees my brother?” She let that sit for a second. “Or do you want her to trustyou?” Her gaze didn’t soften, and I swallowed hard, the heat in my chest fading into something cold and precise.
I exhaled and looked up to where Nina stood, caught in the middle of Diego’s family orbit. She moved to the music without thinking—hips swaying, hair falling loose, laughter rising from her chest so freely it almost startled me. She glowed under the low light, spinning between hands that reached for her out of affection.
I didn’t have to know their names or hear their words to see how easily she fit among them. She couldbelongwith them. We’d both lost that so young: she could still have it. Joy. Home. Connection.
I just sat there, watching her, feeling every inch of the distance between us and knowing that controlling Nina’s pain wouldn’t make her see me. It never had. It was time to let her have what I’d been unable to give her.
Truth was, I didn’t think I could get rid of this need to belittle, snap,control, but I could redirect it. Make everyone who’d hurt her pay, and show her it’d never beherI’d put down again.
19
Nina
The kitchen clock ticked too loud, competing with the low hum of my laptop fan. I was on my second cup of late-night espresso while Lynnie blasted Guns n’ Roses through the stereo to keep herself awake.
A local TikToker with a huge following had gone viral after biting into one of our cupcakes and moaning, with the hanging chalkboard showcasing the new logo clear above her head. Lynnie said we’d been lucky, but luck had nothing to do with it—none of my clients’ success did. I’d spent hours studying hashtag fluctuations, making sure their posts landed in front of the right influencers who would hit share. I’d worked my butt off, and that’s why I was being tagged as an independent marketing strategist who could deliver a tenfold return on investment for small and medium businesses across the Windy City and Chicagoland area.
I was findingsuccess.It was still tentative, though precarious. I’d had to buckle up and renew subscriptions, invest in a new laptop, on top of loans, insurance, and meds. It simply just wasn’t enough for someone with my credit score to find an apartment without mold or cracked windows. That’s why I wastaking up Lincoln on his offer to stay in his home for as long as possible.
It, for sure, had nothing to do with the fact, that while I danced and laughed with Diego’s family, all I could think about was how Lincoln understood the ache of having your family ripped from you. It had nothing to do with how Diego’s family didn’t ease my loneliness, but finding Lincoln watching me from across the bar, soothed the feeling a little. Especially, the quite determination in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. No, my staying in that apartment hadnothingto do with how the stupid Lincoln-shaped ache in my chest dulled a little every time he looked at me the way he had for the past two months.
I shook my head, the BrightMark deck glared at me from the screen, bright slides cutting through the midnight haze. I’d scribbled every margin of paper in front of me with notes from other clients. Coffee rings bleeding into my outlines proof I’d been here too long.
Lynnie moved to the rhythm of the music while she piped cupcakes like crazy, streaks of pink-and-teal hair swinging sharply around her jaw, her Pearl Jam tee hanging loose on her frame. The faded graphic stretched, and when she turned her back to pull out another tray from the oven, I recognized the washed-out sheep against a fence. Lynnie shimmied and shifted across the kitchen, belting outwith all the defiance of someone who knew she was off-key and didn’t care. Her glasses slid down her nose as she twirled, sneakers squeaking on the tile. She jabbed a finger at me, her only audience, then spun back around.
“It’s a shame you couldn’t make it to Lalo’s. I think Diego would get a kick out of”—I gestured to her movements—“this.”
Lynnie’s gaze swept down to her red Converse, and her cheeks turned bright pink. “Yeah, sorry I missed it.”
“I don’t mind. It was very loose, but fun.”
Lynnie slid into the chair across from me, fidgeting with the hem of her Pearl Jam shirt. The music had softened to background noise, more hum than guitar now.
“What were things like for you, living with your aunt and uncle?” she asked, voice small enough to make me glance up from my laptop.
I hesitated, cursor blinking on an unfinished slide. “Things weren’t… as warm as you’d expect. They had their own idea of how the house needed to run and what my role in it was.”
She leaned in a little. “What does that mean, Nina?”
I clicked my tongue, eyes back on the screen. The question sent me somewhere I didn’t want to go. “I worked. I had to contribute.”
“You were the kid, Nina, to be cared for.” Pity shined in her eyes.
I shrugged, skating my fingers over the trackpad just to give them something to do. This is why I never got into it. I hated being pitied. “It is what it is.”
“And with your cousin?”
I met her eyes. Vinny’s awkward comments from his visit to Reality Bites drifted back: his signature flirting. But Lynnie didn’t shut him down.Why did she insist on discussing my cousin?The skin at the corners of her eyes wrinkled and her mouth dipped at the same time. That wasn’t gossip. I dismissed the thought that maybe?—
