Page 2 of Wreck Me

Ginny relaxed at the idea that both coffee and casserole would soon be hers, until Sadie had the audacity to wrap her arms around Grant and give him a kiss that he was only too eager to reciprocate.

Ginny groaned as she slumped in her chair. “Now I’ll never get any breakfast.”

“Get a room, you two,” Monique said.

“Or a pool,” Ginny said, remembering the couple’s first kiss.

Sadie ended the embrace, then touched a dainty finger to Grant’s nose. “How about you get the addicts their caffeine while we get the sisterly formalities out of the way?”

Sadie took the chair to Ginny’s right, and the three of them lifted their glasses. Clinking them over the table, they said a solemn, “To Mom and Dad.” It had been seven years since ateen drunk driver took their beloved parents from them, but their weekly brunches—Monique’s idea—had kept the sisters close and their parents’ memory near. Given Sadie and Grant’s celebrity status, they could no longer hold their brunches at Rick’s Diner, but they still saw their beloved godfather, Rick, regularly.

Grant soon returned and, just as Rick had always done, gave Monique her coffee black, set Sadie’s mug down along with its own adorable cream and sugar set, and handed Ginny her customary half-filled mug with a cup of ice. Then he took the remaining seat at the four-top.

Sadie turned her coffee nearly white with cream before loading in plenty of sugar. “A man who knows exactly how you like your coffee is worth a million dollars any day.”

Ginny started dumping ice cubes into the space Grant left in her mug, preferring her morning wakey juice room temperature. It went down faster that way. “I think even our man-hating Great Aunt Lydia would have made an exception for Grant.”

The spoon swirling in Sadie’s mug came to a standstill. “Are you saying I should get my inheritance even though I broke the terms of her will?”

Monique scoffed. “You cave; you lose.”

“Doesn’t look like she’s lost much,” Ginny said, gesturing toward the view.

Monique rolled her eyes. “She would’ve gotten all this either way.”

With a smirk, Sadie got up, sat in Grant’s lap, and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling them close. Whenever they were within six inches of each other, they looked like the image on their next movie poster. It was sweet. “But I wouldn’t be married to Farm Boy!” she said in her best imitation of pouty Julia Menlo, the Hollywood superstar who tried and failed to steal Grant from her.

Grant slipped an arm around Sadie’s waist but addressed all of them. “Did I miss the sister pact thing? I love that part.”

“No, but we might as well do it now,” Monique said. “No dates for me.”

“Date free,” Ginny said, concluding their second and final weekly brunch ritual. Monique started making them declare the status of their love lives after the executor of Great Aunt Lydia’s will explained the details of their surprise inheritance. Great Aunt Lydia, who never met a man she didn’t dislike, bequeathed each of them a million dollars but only if they stayed single till age thirty. By Monique’s black and white logic, if they didn’t date, they weren’t at risk for marriage. Of course, Sadie had found the loophole in that by marrying Grant after just three fake dates.

As far as Ginny was concerned, staying single for three more years would be as easy as breathing for three more years. Dates, and especially first dates, were a good day spoiled. Dream dresses and dream proposals were the height of boring. Even if she managed to do all that in the simplest way possible, shestillhad to get along with the same exact person day after day and year after year till she died.

Who would sign up for that torture?

Sadie returned to her seat, and Grant started slicing up the casserole. “So, only two are left in the…what did Rick call it?” he said.

Monique held up a hand indicating she wouldn't be having any casserole, then pulled the fruit salad toward her. “Our Sister Spinster Pact.”

Ginny shook her head when she saw Grant lifting out an edge piece for her. “Corner piece, please! Extra big.”

He obliged with a pride-filled grin, and a massive corner chunk soon slid onto her plate. As she took her first bite, fireworks of flavor exploded in her mouth. When she closedher eyes, she could even see them in her mind—bright splashes of mustard yellow and brick red against a deep blue canvas. “Mmmmm. Who needs a million dollars? All I need is Grant’s cooking once a week. Am I too young to retire?”

“Retire?” Monique spluttered. She set her coffee down so hard it splashed out a bit. “Ginny, you know I love you, but how will it be any different than your life now? You’re lucky I’m a real estate attorney to the rich and famous. My company pays you a ridiculous rate to clean empty mansions before they hit the market, and that’s it. That’s all you do.”

“I also do a little handyman work when a house needs it, but you’re right. I can’t complain. I even like the cleaning. I’m just extra busy trying to finish some repairs to my own place right now, so a little downtime would be great.”

“I’ve got good news for you then,” Monique said. “My team is helping a couple of brothers who are about to make an enormous development transaction. It’s a big hairy deal, and the head of the firm has taken everything else off our plates to make sure it goes smoothly. That means no new cleaning jobs for you for the next two weeks.”

Sadie sent Ginny a look of concern. “Is that going to be okay for you financially? Will you need help with rent or utilities?”

“Nah,” she said around a mouthful of casserole. “I'm fine.”

Monique shook her head. “I don’t see how unless your rent is close to nothing. Either that or you only eat at Sunday brunch. Why won’t you let us see your place?”

Ginny made praying hands, begging for their patience. “I will, I will. It’s just not ready yet. But, I promise, you’ll love it when you see it. In fact, I’ll spend this free time wrapping up a couple of last projects, and then I’ll have everyone over.”

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