Page 101 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
When we reach Piper’s loft, she immediately sits at the table and pulls up our checklist on her iPad. Frankie sits next to her and takes out her phone before sending me a sly smile. She’s working on a checklist for tonight that Piper has no idea about.
“All product came in?” she asks.
I sign into my laptop that I left behind last night, knowing I’d be back this morning. I scan my inventory report and nod. “Check.”
The kind of mass production we need for Bombora can’t be done with a few employees, but we found a manufacturer in LA that combines fashion production with ethical sourcing for materials, and training and employment for refugee and migrant communities.
If Bombora grows the way we’d like, we’ll have to move production overseas. We’re already searching for manufacturers who meet our requirements for ethical and sustainable production. They’re not easy to find, but the garment industry is on the cusp of change. There are growing apparel hubs committed to the same values Piper and I are.
As Piper goes down our list, my chest swells to Pipeline height. Over the past eighteen months, our business partnership has grown into something bigger, better, and more satisfying than I could’ve imagined. Everything I’ve achieved in preparation for opening Bombora—from a polished business proposal that convinced investors to take a chance on me to not giving up when obstacles came my way—I couldn’t have done without Piper.
Sometimes I laugh at how blind I was to how incredible she is for so long. But I was blind to a lot of things.
Reckon I still am, but the next step in our partnership I’m going into with eyes wide open. I hope Piper and I are both ready to move to the next level. I have been since the moment I signed the beach house back to Dad. Piper’s given enough hints she’s ready, too, that my gut tells me it’s time.
Tonight’s the night I ask Piper to be my partner for life.Tonight’s the night I ask her to be my wife.
Chapter 1
Piper
The most important lesson I’ve learned from my mother, Cynthia Quinn Lopez Forsythe soon-to-be Richmond, is that a woman who lets a man define her life ends up losing everything. Mom has given up everything for men. And they’ve always left her for something—or someone—new.
I’m not making that mistake. Ever.
So, no one should be surprised that I’m reluctant to accept anything connected to Malcolm Forsythe, my soon-to-be ex-stepdad. Not even a twelve-million-dollar beach house a short bus ride away from my hard-fought internship in a city with a severe housing crisis. I’ve sworn for years that I’ll make it on my own, but unless one of the three dozen LA landlords I’ve reached out to in the last few weeks calls me back today, I’ll be showing up broke and homeless.
Which is why I haven’t ended this call with Mom, even though I’ve already said no to her offer to stay in a free beach house—the only asset she’s taking from her marriage to Malcolm. Necessity is the mother of compromising high ideals—or something like that—and I’m out of optionsandideals.
“Piper, for goodness’ sake, you won’t be staying inMalcolm’shouse; you’ll be staying inmyhouse,” Mom says, followed by a muffled, “Not so short, Kelly. Joe likes them long.”
Of course she’s calling me from the nail salon. I should have known.
I tuck my phone between my shoulder and ear as I yank open the top drawer of my dresser. I haven’t seen my AirPods since Ashley, my nightmare roommate, “borrowed” them last week. No way am I broadcasting this conversation on speaker. The last thing I need is for Ashley to hear anything about me living in a bougie beach house in South Bay. She’ll show up for a “visit,” and I’ll have a squatter situation on my hands.
I drop clothes into the suitcase at my feet that takes up most of the floor space in my room that’s technically a walk-in closet. “If you’re not getting any money from Malcolm in the settlement, then you’re going to need the house. You can sell it or rent it out.”
“You need somewhere to stay more than I need an income. I’ve got Joe to take care of me, honey.”
“That’s what you said about Malcolm. And Ricardo.” I don’t add my father to the list. I’ve never met him, but I’m sure his promises were just as empty.
“Joe is different,” Mom says, her voice drifting into that sugary dreamland where love lasts forever—again.
“And rich.”
Did I say that out loud?Mom’s silence makes me think I did.
“He’s not rich,” she says, finally.
What she means is that Joe only has millions of dollars, notbillions,like Malcolm.
“The point is…” I shove the drawer closed, and it slips off the track. I catch it and try to wrestle it back in. “Based on past history, you should play it safe, Mom.”
One more shove and my glasses slip down my nose while the drawer splits down the middle. Furniture from a box isn’t known for its quality, but that’s all I’ve been able to afford while attending Parsons in New York. Good thing I wasn’t planning on taking anything besides my clothes and my sewing machine home to LA. I was hoping, though, to get ten dollars for the dresser off Marketplace.
“You’re not going to change my mind, Piper…Ouch! Careful, Kelly!”
I doubt Kelly has hit any rawer nerve than I have, but if I keep pushing Mom, her poor nail tech is the one who will take the heat. I tuck a pile of shirts in my suitcase as Mom enters round three of repeating how she’s going to solve my problems. What she doesn’t say is that, in the process, she’ll feel like a good mother.
