“Grace and I were talking about your marriage with Nora—”
“Wait, my marriage? Grace knows? No.” I shook my head and took another swig before pointing my finger at my sister. “This is a whole thing now.”
“It is. She thinks you’re the chauffeur.” She cackled. “We need to set her up with someone else so she forgets about you—well, about dearest Anthony. If she falls in like, love, or lust with someone else, maybe that’ll prevent her from hoisting you over her shoulder and running down to city hall.”
“She’s…a headcase.”
“She’s also cute as hell. Are you worried we can’t find someone?” She snorted. “We can. There’s yin to every yang.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t so sure. The woman put foil in a microwave and made her plants listen to podcasts. My chest tightened at the thought of some dude taking her out. She’d probably ask what a fork was and demand to be fed. Or ramble on about the different type of leaves there were. But the thought of her dating someone agitated me, and I couldn’t pinpoint why.
It’s either this or her trying to marry me.“You’re right, yeah. She needs a distraction that isn’t me.”
My sister squinted her eyes and tapped her foot on the ground. “Let me do some digging. Think about your single and open-minded friends. We can make this work. I can’t have a sister-in-law who collects human hair. That’s too far for me.”
“Uh, you and me both.”
We shared a good laugh before she finished her drink and put on herbattleface. I knew better than to rush her. She’d ask what she needed when she was ready. I poured myself more whiskey before she exhaled. “I have a favor.”
“Name it.” Scary how well I knew my sister.
“Christopher’s bachelor party. Would you help his buddy plan it? You know the area so well, and his friend is one of those who…goes over the top. He’ll get like twenty strippers and cocaine, and Christopher is not on board, obviously.”
“His loss. That sounds super fun,” I teased.
Gilly didn’t appreciate the joke. I held up my free hand and nodded. “Yes, I’ll help out. Text me his info, and I’ll call him. But you need to find a dude for Poison Ivy soon, okay?”
“You got it.” She picked up my laptop. “I’ll start looking on social media now.”
There had to be single guys who’d be enamored with her pink hair and weird hobbies. She was cute and upbeat…someone might like her lack of life experience and rich-girl hobbies. I hated the tiny guilt making my chest tight, but it was for the best.
I was not going to marry Leanora Atwood.
Chapter Five
There were flyers everywhere.On the streetlights, on the stop signs, on the front door to the apartment, and any structure that allowed tape to hold paper to it. Standing outside my car, I counted fifteen within view.
SAVE THE OCEAN—DONATE NOW!
Love fashionandthe ocean? You don’t have tochoose! Wear it as a reminder to reduce your plastic footprint, advocate for ocean-friendly legislation, and encourage others to take action to protect the ocean we all love so much.
The bright-yellow flyers with large pictures of whales hurt my eyes. It was horrible, yet…something tugged at my chest. Despite all the reasons I hated people like Nora, this act was not typical of an elitist princess. None of my mom’s friends would’ve taken the time to hang up flyers. They would’ve thrown a gala together or a black-tie event to dress up and showcase their home or their latest outfit. This was almost juvenile.
I pulled the one off our front door and folded it into my pocket. It had been a few days since the plants showed up in my apartment, and since Gilly and I came up with a matchmaking plan, and I had only seen her once for one second in passing. She crossed my mind more than I would’ve liked, but it was relaxing not to have errands to run for her or show her how to be a basic adult.
Like my mind conjured her, her doorknob started to turn as I walked into the foyer. Shit—I was still in a suit. I rushed to my door, ducking inside, where I stripped off the jacket and tie and tossed them onto the recliner.
“Fritz! I heard you.”Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.Silence for a few seconds.Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Were you waiting for me to get home?” I asked, replacing the slacks with jeans and making sure I didn’t wear anything that screamedlawyerorAnthony Carter.When I opened my door, she smiled up at me. Her grin was so large, it caught me off guard. “You all right?”
“I have a tiny favor to ask you. It’s small. The smallest. But as the Carter’s chauffeur, I feel like this is something totally appropriate.” She rocked back on her heels, and worry lines appeared on her face. She looked brighter than normal today. She wore a bright-yellow skirt and an off-blue shirt that somehow went together.
I didn’t bother correcting her. “What’s the favor?”
“I’m going out tonight. To some venue called Whiskers? Or is it Whiskey? Or Whisper?” She frowned and pulled out her phone.
“Whiskey Rose,” I said, naming my favorite pub in town. I met my buddies there once a week for a happy hour, and just saying the name made me hungry. I’d marry their Reuben sandwich if I could. “You’re going to Whiskey Rose?”
