Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t be yelling about pickles.
Kingston looks back at me, the sandwich bag in his hand. “And what is that?”
I catch up with him after I grab my bag of lunch and follow him out of the shop. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
“Want me to hold your hand?”
“Absolutely not,” I mutter.
“Then just say it.”
“I’m going to be done at Kappa Holdings.”
Kingston doesn’t falter. He doesn’t trip and sprawl on the sidewalk face-first, like I expected him to. He just nods. “I knew this day would come.”
“The day I’d quit on you?”
He shakes his head. “The day you realized what you really loved doing. You’re going back into business with your parents, aren’t you?”
I nod. “How did you know?”
“The way you talked about it when we first roomed together in college. The way you talk about it now. You’re way more excited about the latest brand of kayaks your parents are getting than the million-dollar real estate deal you closed.” He chuckles. “I guess if I were a good friend, I would have pointed it out to you sooner. But I like working with you, and I’m selfish. So, I kept my mouth shut.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t cut it as a corporate guy.”
“I’m not gonna lie; you’ve made this business a lot of fun, and it’s not going to be the same without you. We can change things so that you’re a silent partner and figure out the profit share later.”
I clear my throat. I really would love not to have to sit in on another board meeting ever again in my life. “What if I sold to Thea and you made her your partner?”
He finally stops and looks at me. “Has anyone told you that you’re a genius?”
“I can’t even take credit. It was Lucy’s idea.”
Kingston swings open the door to our office building. “Yeah, you should probably propose for real sometime soon. She’s definitely the better half.”
FORTY-ONE
Lucy
Both Miles and I have been incredibly busy since getting back from the camping trip and my conversation with Willa and his conversation with Kingston. I don’t know if it’s because work is so busy or if it’s because we don’t want to discuss the feelings that are obviously growing. Either way, I’m grateful I haven’t had to put my heart out there to get stomped on just yet.
But when I get home late one evening, there’s an unfamiliar car parked near the sidewalk, and I brace myself to meet more of Miles’s family.
Before I even reach the front porch, Miles steps outside and hurries toward me, stopping me.
He looks concerned. “Listen, I didn’t know he was going to be here, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to kick him out or let him stay. You just say the word, and I’ll do what you want.”
I stare at the house, processing the words that Miles just blurted out.
“Who’s in the house?” I ask.
“Your dad.”
I freeze. Dad came to visit me? That’s so uncharacteristic. We’ve talked over the years, and they were stilted, surface-levelconversations. We met up for lunch a few times when I lived in Colorado anytime he had a layover in Denver.
But for him to fly all the way out here? To see me?
“It’s okay. I’d like to talk to him.” I pull my shoulders back, ready to face the awkward conversation waiting for me in the house.
