Page 39 of Sincerely Not Yours

Harris shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Just had a good weekend, that’s all.”

Dean scrunched his forehead and set his pen on his desk. “Didn’t you work all weekend?”

Harris nodded but didn’t comment. Instead, he took a seat in one of the stiff leather chairs that faced the desk. He leaned back, surveying Dean’s office. Special memories and people filled the walls. There were pictures of his wife and kids, a framed football jersey from high school, crayon drawings from his youngest. Dean lived a full life outside of this office.

“I’ve been thinking about Dad’s offer,” Harris admitted, and Dean’s expression shifted to cautious interest.

“How so?”

Harris slid his arm onto the armrest, running his fingers over the leather. “I’ve been thinking about what it would be like if I stayed.”

Dean sat straight up, surprise evident on his face. “Really?! You’re considering staying? Permanently? Taking over the company with me?”

Harris grinned at his brother’s excitement. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, Cheri, and the kids. It’s nice to be close to family again. I’ve missed you guys.”

“We’ve missed you,” Dean said with a wide stare, as if that were obvious. A pang of brotherly love pinched Harris.

“And honestly, I forgot how much I enjoy sales and marketing. It’s been refreshing. I’ve been working behind the scenes withGambleOnLove for so long that I kind of forgot how exhilarating it can be in the trenches.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, rocking it. “I didn’t expect to hear this. I thought you were all-in with your dating app, that you wanted to get back to New York as soon as possible.”

“I did,” Harris admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing there were multiple reasons he was now considering staying in Chicago. Gigi was a big part of that. “I’m trying to figure out what to do. I think I could run both companies.”

Dean gave him a look like that was a ridiculously bad idea. “You want to run two companies? That’s a huge time commitment. Every minute of every day would be taken up with work. Why don’t you sell GambleOnLove? Live a little?”

The thought had crossed Harris’s mind, but he just couldn’t fathom doing it. He sighed and glanced out the window at the gray sky and tall towers. “It was Adam’s baby. I feel like I’d be letting him down if I sold it.” He could figure out a way to make it work, couldn’t he?

Dean’s expression softened, knowing what Harris had been through, losing his best friend a few years ago. “I get it, Harris. I do. But Adam would want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you to feel chained to a company for his sake.” Dean was quiet for a few moments before he continued. “Listen, I’m just glad to hear you’re considering taking over the family business with me. I’m here to support your decision, no matter what—just like you do for me.”

Harris turned back to his brother, the tension in his chest cracking. “Thanks.”

“We’ll figure it out together.” Dean nodded, and the weight on Harris’s shoulders lessened. Until their dad swooped through the door.

“What are you two doing? Sitting around playing tiddlywinks?” their dad asked, irritation etched on his face, like always.

When was the last time anyone said ‘tiddlywinks’? Harris would’ve laughed, if it were anyone else.

“Hit the phones,” their dad continued his rant with a wave of his hand. “Dive into those reports. I want five actionable items to increase market share by tonight.” He finished his marching orders and swooped back into the hallway, off to darken someone else’s day.

The brothers shared a look. Dean rolled his eyes and scooched his chair over to his computer. “Better get to it,” he said.

Harris chewed his bottom lip. “By the way, there is zero percent chance I’ll continue working for the family business if dad doesn’t retire.” He thrummed his fingers against the armrest. “We better put that in the contract.”

Chapter Seventeen

“There’s a little extra Christmas cheer in this batch,” Alice announced, pinching her mouth after a sip of the Mistletoe Margaritas Paige had concocted. “Wowza!” Her head snapped back as she licked the sugar granules from her lips.

“I made them strong,” Paige answered in a singsong. She shimmied her shoulders, raising her glass. “It’s our Yappy Hour Christmas party. Time to live it up!” She winked. Both Alice and Gigi giggled before they all took sips of the sweetly sour drink garnished with cranberries, a sprig of rosemary, and a sugared glass rim.

It was the last Friday before Christmas, and the girls were celebrating with a slumber party at Alice’s apartment. All cozied up in her living room, they were sipping margaritas and sporting Christmas pajamas. A perfectly predictable Christmas romance movie played on the TV, and their tummies were full ofItalian Penicillin and home-baked bread. Before work, Gigi had whipped up the soup and it had simmered all day in her new Crock-Pot—the one Harris had surprised her with.

She smiled through another sip, remembering how she’d discovered the package that’d been waiting in her apartment building’s mailroom. The card that came with it said,Even though we got cheated out of winning the trivia game, I still thought you deserved a Crock-Pot. Sincerely Chapped, Harris.

Her heart warmed at the thoughtful gesture. It was a thousand times better than flowers.

“Okay, time for you guys to open your presents from me.” Alice bounced in the recliner. The throw blanket slid from her crossed legs to the floor. Behind her, Mister Tuxedo stretched, rousing from his nap on the back of the chair. Sensing excitement, he sauntered down to the armrest, crawled across Alice’s lap, and jumped to the coffee table. There, he collapsed and rubbed his face against a wrapped present.

“You are such a ham.” Gigi reached over and scratched him on his white belly and chest. Tux purred, his eyes closing. “I think you’d really like Rudy. You need to convince your momma that you need a little brother.” Gigi quirked a brow at Alice, waiting for her reaction.

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