I shrug. “How to be confident, I guess?”
Natalie is just staring at me.
“What?”
“It's not the worst idea I've heard.” She checks her phone and sighs. “I have to get back for my next class, but if it's a man you're looking for, then I say go after what you want.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Natalie just smiles. “I'm just saying. You've gotten everything else you've wanted. Why not this?”
It's a good question.
“See you soon?”
“You know it, babe. Love ya!”
After she leaves, I sit there for a moment, turning her words over in my mind. Maybe she's right. Maybe I should stop overthinking and just go after what I want. The question is figuring out exactly what that looks like and working up the nerve to do it.
I check the time on my phone. Brandon's probably finished his Sunday morning family call by now. I can picture him in his kitchen, still in whatever he slept in, surviving on nothing but coffee because he had good intentions of making breakfast but got distracted by his sisters' latest drama or his mom asking when he's coming home for a visit.
Without really thinking about it, I get up and walk back to the counter, where the barista is cleaning espresso cups.
“Excuse me,” I say. “Could I get an avocado bacon Benedict to go? And maybe throw in one of those almond croissants?”
It's his favorite weekend order. I try to bring him food from here when I take Nat's class. For now, it's Brandon I bring food to. Maybe, if I can figure out how to form actual words around attractive men, Mason could be next.
five
. . .
Brandon
The morning sunstreams through my apartment windows as I balance my laptop on my knees, trying to look presentable for the family FaceTime call that's become a weekly routine. On my screen, the familiar faces around the Grimaldi family dining room come into view. My parents are at the head of the table, and my six sisters are scattered around with various husbands and children, creating the beautiful chaos of voices and laughter.
“Hey, Brandon!” My oldest sister, Nina, waves at the camera while simultaneously trying to keep her three-year-old from launching himself off his chair.
My mother appears, squinting like it will help her see me better through the small screen. “Are you getting enough to eat? You look thin.”
“Yes, Ma, I'm eating enough,” I dutifully report, which makes my mother, Maria Grimaldi, narrow her eyes at me through the screen.
“Show me your refrigerator,” she demands in that tone that still makes me feel twelve years old, even at thirty-two.
“Ma, I'm not showing you my refrigerator.”
She turns to my father, who's carving what looks like the most perfect roast beef in the history of roast beef. “Nick, your son is going to waste away to nothing in that Hollywood apartment.”
My father, ever the diplomat, just chuckles and continues carving. After forty-five years of marriage and raising seven children, he's learned when to engage and when to let his wife's worry run its course.
The Grimaldi family story starts with my great-grandparents, who arrived from Sicily in the 1920s with nothing but determination and a dream of building something lasting. They started with the Grimaldi Grande, a single hotel in Manhattan that became the foundation of Grimaldi Hotels and Resorts, now one of the most respected luxury resort chains in the country.
Fast forward three generations later, and my parents, Maria and Nick Grimaldi, met in high school, fell in love, married, and had seven beautiful children, who were all expected to carry on the family legacy. Nina, Isabella, the twins, Valentina and Victoria, Ariana, Giuliana, and me, the baby of the family.
Everyone found their place in the business. Nina runs operations, Isabella handles marketing, the twins manage different properties, Ariana oversees guest relations, and Giuliana runs food services.
Then there's me, the one who looked at a life of luxury hotels and five-star service and decided I'd rather throw myself off buildings for a living.
My parents have always been supportive, but I know there's a corner office with my name on it waiting for me whenever I'm ready to come home to the family business.
