Page 71 of I Think They Love You

The snarling thunder outside is as loud as Kami’s heels when she stomps up to him. He’s not in the mood to talk. If only the damn elevator would reach their floor faster.

Kami whips out her own phone. She types away.

“Ugh. Emily fucking Sedwick.”

Clearly, sheisin the mood to chat. Denz pointedly stares at his shoes.

“She’s the worst of the sisters,” Kami proclaims.

“Hmm?”

He only half listens to her rant. Something about Emily wanting an early 2000s boy band to reunite for one night only and perform the song her NFL-defensive-lineman fiancé proposed to her with. Denz isn’t surprised. He met plenty of kids like Emily at Brighton. The “money is no object” kind that think the world revolves around their parents’ enormous bank accounts.

The opposite of Jamie.

Denz isn’t naïve, though. More than 50 percent of 24 Carter Gold’s clients are like the Sedwicks. They’re also the reason he’s wearing Armani loafers and is one elevator trip away from slumping in the heated leather seats of his BMW.

It’s a lot to reconcile with, and Denz is too focused on hiding the tears sticking to his eyelashes.

“She wants me to pull off an honest-to-God Santa Claus miracle too,” Kami continues, snapping her tan trench closed. “Snow in March. InAtlanta. Create a winter wonderland for her first dance with Warner.”

Outside of his NFL ties, Warner’s family is also loaded. Shocking. Denz jams the down button once more.

“Who does that?” Kami huffs.

“A Sedwick,” he finally replies.

“A fucking Sedwick.” Kami’s phone pings. “Emily’s drama can wait. I’m taking Nic early prom gown shopping. Wanna come with?”

Denz hesitates.Is the elevator broken?

“Promise no more work talk,” Kami says, elbowing him. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Denz tries to sigh but his sinuses ache from all the sniffling. At least he hasn’t cried yet.

“Hey.” She pivots in his direction. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m good,” he strains.

“If your definition of ‘good’ is one Adele song away from destroying a tub of Gooey Butter Cake from Jeni’s Ice Cream in one sitting, then yeah, you’re perfect.”

Denz tips his head back, exhaling. “Allergies.”

Instantly, Kami reaches up to rub his bicep.

“Allergies” was their secret code as kids. Whenever one of them was so angry, so crushed by a comment from the aunties or uncles or even their dad, but didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, they’d whisper that word. Their protective walls went up after that. Denz would sing so loud, no one could hear Kami’s quiet sobs. On his bad days, she’d pass him her designer sunglasses to hide his damp eyes.

Nic’s never needed a code word. One lethal look, and everyone knows to leave her alone. Even Denz is frightened of how cold she can be when pushed too far.

“Dad?” Kami whispers.

He carefully nods.

“We’ve been fighting all week,” she says, sympathetic. “He’s not a fan of my ideas for the engagement party.”

---