Page 29 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

“Well, water guy?” Brit said, looking up at what was probably a dopey look on my face. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“It is.”

“Are you glad you came up here with me?” She climbed onto the railing in her damn flip-flops and I fisted the back of her dress, holding her safe.

“I am very glad I came here with you.”

She pulled her phone out of her bra and held it out to try to take a selfie. Her arm was too short to get us both, so I took it and wrapped my arm around her waist. She was nearly my height while standing on the railing, and I pressed my cheek to her temple. She turned her face so her strawberry breath brushed my skin. “Say cheese.”

“No,” I said, just to mess with her, but I still smiled, big and ridiculous. It was becoming a habit with her.

Brit made a face, and I snapped the picture. She took the phone back and grinned. “I’m going to keep it forever.”

“Hey,” I said, pulling her closer and telling myself it was for her safety. “If I wasn’t here, would you have done this by yourself?”

“If you weren’t here, I’d still be on a dock in Costa Rica, waiting for a ship.”

I grinned at the back of her head. “So, you admit it. You need me.”

She turned in my grip, leaning back on the railing to look at me. “Look at that smile on your face, Nicky. You need me too.”

Back at the car, Brit used a T-shirt and what was left of my Dasani to clean the mud off of her bare feet. She tossed her flip-flops in the back and laced those sandals from yesterday up her calves. I was saved from having to pretend I wasn’t watching by my phone buzzing in my pocket.

I pulled it out to see my cousin Tom’s name on the screen and I could almost hear myself deflate, wondering what warranted a middle of the day call. Tom and I were born three months apart, him first, he loved to remind me. He was more like Alex than me—laid back, always smiling—and we looked nothing alike other than our pale eyes, but when we were together people always assumed we were brothers because apparently we just looked close.

I hated that now seeing his name on my screen made me anxious.

“Hey, Tom. Hold on.” I covered the receiver. “Brit?” She smiled up at me and I tossed her the keys. “I have to take this. Will you please stay in the car?”

She twirled the key ring around her finger. “Does this mean I get to drive?”

“It means you get to pick the music.” She pumped a fist, and I jogged a few steps, calling over my shoulder, “Please stay here.”

She saluted me, eyes on the radio.

“What’s up?” I asked Tom.

“Who were you talking to?”

“No one.”

He chuckled. “Sounded like a female no one.”

I knew it wasn’t an accusation, but I still felt guilty considering what we both knew I was here to do. “You need your ears checked,” I said.

“Yeah, all right. Where are you?”

“Somewhere in Louisiana.”

“Have you talked to your dad?”

My pulse tripped. I’d sent him to voicemail twice when Brit and I were at Target. “Tell me it’s not my mom.”

“She’s fine. It’s the Clayborne job. He’s got it in his head you’re going to be back to run the final budget numbers before we submit them. I told him it was unlikely.”

The Clayborne job was a planned neighborhood of ten houses that overlooked a man-made lake the town had just finished. It was our biggest job to date and we’d just won a hard-fought bid to get it. Now we had to go to the bank with our budget for the development to secure funding and we had a pretty razor-thin margin.

We used to have a CFO, in addition to my dad and uncle, but when I got my MBA, I inherited responsibility for the financials—and the business development, and the acquisitions—while Tom and Drew handled the contracting side of things. “I’ll be back in two days,” I said. Another brick fell onto my shoulders. As if not finishing Alex’s task wasn’t enough, now I had a deadline.

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