A young waiter in a crisp white button-up and black apron stopped beside our table, pen poised over his notepad. Daphne didn’t hesitate. “Sausage and mushroom pizza. Side salad.”
I resisted the urge to gag.Mushrooms. I absolutely despised the fungi that snuck itself into the category of vegetable and ruined perfectly good pizza. But I didn’t want to be thatperson and complicate the order.
Just as the waiter started to jot it down, Noah spoke up. “No mushrooms.”
Daphne frowned at him. “What? We always get mushrooms.”
“Macey doesn’t like mushrooms,” Noah said simply.
The waiter, who seemed too busy to care about their sibling argument, tucked his notepad into his pocket and walked away.
I leaned forward. “How did you know that?”
“You posted something dramatic about a pizza place in Avondale that tried to push their ‘Fun Guy Special’ on you.”
Huh.I remembered that day, though I’m pretty sure that happened what, eight months ago? Maybe Noah just really had a vested interest in pizza joints.
Unsure of how to respond, I turned to the other Hansley sibling. “So, Daphne, what brings you to Chicago?”
Noah sipped his water eagerly.
Daphne seemed like a sweet girl. Young, confident. By the suitcase in the door, I guessed she was staying with Noah for a few days. She chewed on the edge of her cuticles before she answered.
“Spring break,” she said. “I thought I’d come hang out with my favorite brother.”
Noah set down his glass. “I’m your only brother.”
“My point stands.”
I laughed as the familiar pang of envy pricked me. Sometimes, I wished I had siblings. Sure, it was nice not having to share my things with anyone or spend my youth in petty arguments, but it would be nice to have someone to relate to. Someone who stuck by your side no matter what.
I had my friends, but it wasn’t quite the same.
“Where do you go to school?” I asked, folding a napkin onto my lap.
“St. Louis Community College,” Daphne answered. “I’m transferring to another university soon, though.”
“That’s great,” I said. Noah’s eyes narrowed at me, like he wasn’t sure if I was being sincere or not. “Noah, I didn’t know you were from St. Louis.”
He had the air—read: arrogance—of someone from an elite Los Angeles neighborhood. I would have never guessed he was from Missouri.
“He is.” Daphne answered for him. “Though it’s been a few years since he’s lived there.”
Mentally, I tried to calculate when he could have moved to Chicago. After high school? After university? I turned to the man I knew very few trivia facts about. “Did you also go to SLCC?”
Once again, Daphne stepped in. “No, he went to?—”
“I didn’t finish college,” Noah finished, voice stony. A little threatening. Maybe a different person would have cowered beneath it, but it made me push harder.
“That’s okay too,” I attempted to reassure him. “You technically don’t need a degree to?—”
Noah suddenly stood. His wooden chair rocked back before all four legs fell to the ground. “I’m going to order garlic bread.”
I mean, I loved carbs as much as the next person, but that was rude. It didn’t matter to me if he went to college or not. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. I’d probably be paying off these student loans until I retired.
I wished someone had told me that there were alternate paths in life. Despite what my high school academic advisor preached, you weren’t required to go to a good school and get a good degree in order to get a good job. It was okay to take a different road, even if it was narrower.
Noah’s shoulders were stiff as he leaned against the counter. Behind the counter held a glimpse of the bustling kitchen: pizza chefs rolled out thick dough, layering it generously with cheese and chunky tomato sauce.
