Nora’s voice, faint but persistent, filters in from the phone. “Is the kitchen destroyed? Is the dog alive?”
I lift the phone up to show her the carnage.
She claps. “Ten out of ten. Would watch again. I love this.Thisis the content you need to post. You could totally become an influencer.”
I shoot her a dirty look, which only makes her cackle harder. “I don’t want to be an influencer. I want to be abusinesswoman.”
“You want to be the female version of Dad.” Nora’s voice drops an octave, her features softening.
I nod, pushing down the familiar tightness in my chest. “He builds things that last. People take him seriously. When he walks into a room, no one wonders if he belongs.”
Nora studies me for a beat.
I gesture vaguely at the floor. “Meanwhile, I make one mess and suddenly it’s all anyone sees.”
Nora’s smile softens. “It doesn’t sound like you’re talking about cookies…”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to.
She leans closer to the screen, her voice shifting into that familiar, no-nonsense cadence, the one that sounds a lot like our dad. “Okay. Then let’s stop spiraling and start solving. You made a mess. So, you clean it up. You figure it out. One step at a time.”
She has a point.
After one more moment of self-pity, I spring up, slip once, and then drag Cocoa to the hallway with my least sticky hand. “Okay. Time out for you, sir. I’ll be back when the kitchen is clean.”
He slumps on the tile and lets out a pitiful whine, unhappy with my choice. I gently shut the doggy gate and brace myself for clean-up.
I return to the kitchen with a brand new attitude and begin deep cleaning like I’m in a marathon, while Nora and her mini-mes encourage me from the screen. They all take turns laughing at me, and honestly, I would be laughing, too, if I wasn’t so focused on putting my kitchen back in order.
As I finish, I smile down at my work.
Mess cleaned up. Step one complete.
I take a victory lap around the island, breathing in the faint chemical scent of a job well done. I turn back to the halfway-made cookies and realize…
“You’re out of eggs,” Nora says, her voice serious, as if she knows exactly what’s going through my head. “Now what?”
“Instacart,” I quip, picking up the phone and scrolling to the app. I pop a carton of eggs into the cart. “Atwo-hourwait time?” I gasp. “The nearest store is twenty minutes away in LA traffic. The cookies will never make it.”
“Just go ask your hot neighbor for some eggs.” Nora’s voice echoes in my empty kitchen.
I whip my head toward the door as if he might be able to hear her. “Um… Who does that? We don’t do that anymore. That sounds like a terrible idea…”
She grins as I pop back to the FaceTime screen. “Do it. I dare you.”
“Um.” I eye my apartment door, remembering the way his frame towered over me. “What am I supposed to even say?Hey, neighbor! Funny story, my dog ruined your shoes, and now I’m out of eggs…”
She bursts into more giggles. “You could say,Hey, sorry to bug you, but do you have a couple of eggs I could borrow? Mine just died a tragic death and—”
“No,” I cut her off.
“Come on, just do it!” Nora keeps urging, and honestly, I mean, at this rate, I will have to throw the batter out…
“Fine.” I sigh and head for the door, Cocoa’s whine filling the apartment with a vengeance. “I’m going to let you go so I can focus,” I tell Nora as I slide my feet into my sandals. “I’ve given you enough entertainment for one night.”
“Okay, okay,” she agrees. “Go get ‘em, Nic. And maybe throw in a little apology, too.”
I nod and hang up. I grab a sweatshirt and pull it over my tank top, and then pull my hair back. It’s almost as if I’m prepping for war or something.
