“And she wants revenge,” Christopher explains.
“If you need any tips, I’m the one to ask. Growing up, I was the master—”
“Master of disaster,” Christopher cuts in. “You want to be sneaky and get away with it, I’m your contact person. This one’s creative but always gets caught.” He throws his thumb in my direction.
“Says the one who once had his twin brother kiss his girl on a scheme he masterminded.”
Christopher cocks a brow. “That happened one time when I was sixteen, and only because the logistics were too complex.”
“What’s logitis mean?” Chloe asks with a lovely frown.
I ruffle her hair. “A fancy way to say details.”
“I like details better.”
“So do I. But some adults like to use big words to cover up their messes.”
My brother narrows his eyes. I love giving him shit, especially when he provokes me.
“I am going to wash my hands before I get my cookies,” Chloe exclaims. She rushes off to the restroom, and I point my forefinger at Christopher.
“Everyone knows you and Max were the successful prankster duo. Daniel and I were a lousy competition, and I have no problem giving you credit where credit is due. But don’t make me lose face with the kids. It’s a matter of principle.”
Christopher grins. “Duly noted. Now let’s talk business.”
“Yeah. I appreciate you taking time for this. Let’s mastermind together.”
They are constantly improving operations, introducing better reporting systems and whatnot at Bennett Enterprises. Of course, the company is a mammoth compared to what Alice and I are doing, but we can learn a lot from them.
We’re deep in debate whether it makes sense for Alice and me to implement one of their more complex pieces of software, and Chloe’s already on the second serving of cookies, when my phone pings with a notification. It’s
from the bookshelf company, confirming delivery on Friday. I can’t wait to see Clara’s reaction.
CHAPTER FOUR
Clara
Next Saturday, on the morning of my move, I wake up with an infectious energy.
I double-check every corner of the apartment, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Everything I own is packed in ten large boxes, not including the furniture, which is lined up against the wall. It’s all from IKEA, so it’s easy to disassemble and then reassemble in the new apartment. The couch will be a little more challenging to move. It’s modular, and I separated each section, but it’s still rather large and cumbersome to get through doors.
At ten o’clock sharp, there’s a knock on my door. I scramble to answer in a flurry.
“Morning, almost-neighbor,” Blake says.
“Come in.”
He insisted on helping me move, and I enjoy his company too much to turn down the offer. Now, surveying him from head to foot as he enters the apartment, I wonder if it was a bad idea.
He’s wearing jeans and a burgundy polo shirt that reveals his muscle-laced arms. The memory of those arms keeping me tight against him after my almost-fall is still too fresh on my mind.
“Let’s start. Here are my prized possessions.” I open my arms, pointing with one to the stack of furniture against the wall and with the other to the boxes.
“That’s all you got?”
“Yep. Told you I didn’t have much. I also have a skateboard we can use to put the boxes on, and even the furniture. That way, we only have to balance the load, not carry it. So don’t worry, you won’t break your back.”
“Darling, it would take a lot more to break my back.”