Page 7 of Courage, Dear Heart

Sabrina sets the decorating pipe bag down. “Would these cupcakes I’m decorating for you atseven in the morning on a Sundayhave anything to do with it?”

I sigh. “Yes, they do.”

“I guess this conversation calls for an espresso.” She walks toward a small coffee station setup for her employees.

I watch my sister with pride and a little envy. She pursued her dream and created a life for herself against all the barriers our father put up.

Sabrina sets the small cup in front of me and pulls a stool closer, the wheeled legs silent on the tile floors. “What happened?”

I slide the espresso to the side. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Well, big brother, I find that starting at the very beginning is usually a good place.”

I shake my head. Sabrina was always the sarcastic one. “The beginning? You know how Dad is always trying to set me up to go on dates with daughters of clients and other influential people?”

Sabrina shivers. “Yikes. Yes. I remember that all too well. He tried it with me too.”

“I’ve dodged as many of those as I could, but every once in a while, I go out with one of these women to shut him up. And when I do, I send them flowers the Monday after.”

Sabrina props her elbows on the table, chin on laced fingers. “Go on.”

“I thought I was being nice, added a card thanking them for the evening, and that was it. I made it clear on those dates that I was not looking for a relationship.”

She frowns. “How do the cupcakes come into play?”

I sigh. “I always use the same flower shop to send the flowers. I usually do it online, but I went jogging after work on Friday and since the flower store is on my way home, I decided to stop in and order in person.”

Sabrina moves the espresso cup in front of me.

“Is seven a.m. too early to add some cognac to my coffee?” I blow on it before taking a sip.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Finish the story first and I’ll find the good stuff if you need it.”

So, I do. Relate everything that happened from the moment I walked into the store to the moment I left. The multitude of expressions on my sister’s face reveal what I’ve already guessed. I’m an ass. “That’s it. That’s the story. I left nothing out.”

She nods. “This happened this Friday—two days ago?”

“Yes. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Apology cupcakes, then?”

“Yeah, I mean, I can’t exactly send her flowers. Tell me, how much of an ass am I on the asshole scale?”

She laughs. “I don’t think you’re an ass.”

“You’re my sister. You’re biased.”

She moves her hand side by side in a so-so gesture. “Eh, I can be objective. You had no way of knowing. So maybe she reacted like that because it’s a sensitive topic, obviously, and probably because you’re not the first guy putting the moves on her.”

“I was not putting the moves on her.”

Sabrina raises a single eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe a little bit. I was trying to be charming.”

“Elliott, why not just be yourself? None of that charming BS Dad is always talking about. She’s not a possible client.She’s a single mother trying to support her child. She doesn’t have time for bullshit.”

My head drops. She’s right. I’m so used to sliding into the shallow, people-pleasing, charming version of myself I use with the obligatory dates and clients I need to smooth over, I didn’t realize I was doing the same thing with Jillian. “I suck.”

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