Asshole.
“Now, come hand-feed me homemade pasta in my multimillion-dollar penthouse.” He claps his hands in my face. “Fulfill your destiny.”
“Out. Or I’m calling the police. You can explain to your shareholders why you have a restraining order.”
“Joke’s on you, pastry witch. All my companies are privately held.” He swipes an order from the counter, blows a kiss to a giggling Olive—who is moving so… damn… slowly—and tosses a hundred-dollar bill at the guy whose order he just swiped.
“I’m sorry,” I tell the man as I watch Fitz fold his long limbs into the sports car illegally parked in front of the café. “I’ll make you a special batch.”
The door burstsopen as I put another tray of the onion, mushroom, goat cheese, and olive oil galettes into the oven.
“You texted you had a salad for lunch. I came as soon as I could.” Carolina pants. “What’s the emergency?”
“No emergency. I’m just trying to figure out a way to get Fitz to fall in love with Kathy.”
Carolina peers at me then feels my forehead. “You really are in crisis. For the love of God, why are you sending your crush of a lifetime to your sister?” She grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Boundaries. Self-esteem. All the therapy words.”
“Because I need to.”
“Uh, no. She has a boyfriend. A very rich boyfriend. Undeserved, but there you go.”
“He dumped her.”
Carolina and I take a seat a a table in the café, and I fill her in on the happenings. She grabs my salad and stuffs lettuce in her mouth. “And they’re just in your house?”
“Girl, yes.” I grab my salad back. It’s a Southwest-style salad—beans, corn, tomatoes, crispy lettuce, and the best chipotle ranch dressing you’ll ever find in Seattle, if I do say so myself. It pairs nicely with a good romantic thriller. “I should eat more salad.”
“You should grow some balls.”
“Kathy has nothing—no-thing—no credit history, no work history, no ring, no babies. That man just kicked her out of his house and my parents and granny out of the vacation home. Now they are here. With me. In my house.”
“You cannot save people from their bad decisions, and they will resent you for even trying.”
“I know, I know, but what am I supposed to do?” I fret.
“I don’t know. Focus on your own life. You have a stalker.”
“Oh no, he’s not going to come around anymore now that my parents are there,” I wail.
“You have Fidget.” The dog’s cone catches on a shelf, and all the sugar packets topple over. “Not to mention, youalso need to find a new location for this café,” Carolina reminds me.
“Goddamn it, Fitz. I swear—”
“And honestly, I think that there is unresolved sexual tension between you two, and you should just go for it. Right in the cooler, the next time he comes over. Could also kill two problems—get laid, get your shop back. You play your cards right, you two could be married with a baby on the way this time next year.”
“No. Gross.”
“He was staring at your tits. You have a good shot.”
“I’m not sleeping with him. I don’t like him, can’t stand him, never will.” I retie my ponytail. “I have to find my sister a boyfriend. Rich, narcissistic, self-absorbed, with an ego bigger than his dick. Fitz is perfect. Getting him together with Kathy is my number-one priority at this moment.”
Carolina sighs. “I’m not going to make it.”
“We have to strategize.” I open up my laptop.
I’m inundated with notifications from the online dating apps I’ve signed up for.
“Ooh. You have a date? Show me the sexy guy you found.” Carolina shimmies.
