Page 28 of Enemies with my Bestie’s Brother
He sounds excited, but I don’t exactly understand why.
“You can do a dinner cruise in San Francisco,” I point out as I furrow my brow.
He frowns and continues, as if I didn’t say anything.
“And there’s sunset sailing—”
“Which you can also do in San Francisco,” I say.
I’m not trying to rain on his parade, no matter how much it seems like I may be. It just seems like a far way to go to do things that are already available to him.
“There’s also snorkeling and scuba diving,” he says as he narrows his eyes at me, challenging me to shoot that suggestion down. Which I can’t do, because snorkeling in San Francisco would be disgusting with all the mud and boat traffic.
“That sounds really neat, actually. Didn’t you go snorkeling in Hawaii last year also?”
I recall all the pictures he took with his underwater camera. He even took a selfie with a sea turtle, not that it was a very clear picture. That wasn’t the water's fault, though. Preston is so bad at taking pictures that a rat could take a better picture than him, and they don’t have opposable thumbs.
“I did, and it was awesome! Honestly, you should come to Maldives with me. I could book you a last-minute ticket.” He grins.
Even though he knows I won’t accept it, I know that his offer is still genuine. Truthfully, I’d love to go to Maldives with him, but I need to stay here for work. And in all honesty, I want to stay here for Whitney.
The thought of her sends little fibers of annoyance through my mind again. She’s on my mind constantly, and it’s actually starting to get to me. It’s like I’m sick and Whitney is the virus, continuously running through my system.
“You know I’d love to, but I can’t. You should come over, though, and hang out a bit at my new penthouse. We could even order some Cringle’s cookies,” I say, attempting to convince him.
They’re his favorite cookies, and the bakery is the kind that is open late at night and delivers an entire baker’s dozen to you fresh.
“Well, you don’t have to ask me twice. I’ve missed them so much. Cringle’s is the best thing in San Francisco.” He hands the waiter his black card, and the waiter uses one of those portable POS systems to instantly swipe it.
I like that setup better than the waiter taking away your card. It’s not that I don’t trust people, it’s just that — alright, I don’t trust people. I mean, why would anyone want to just hand their card to someone who will take it out of their sight? That just seems crazy to me.
“Get out of your head, man. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves,” Preston says, bringing me back from my internal rant.
“I was just appreciating the portable machine. It’s nice to have your card swiped right in front of you,” I say.
Preston gives me a look as if I’ve completely lost my marbles, and in truth, maybe I have. But, at least I won’t have my credit card details stolen.
Chapter Twelve
Whitney
“AndthelastcatererI was using dropped out last minute, citing a family emergency, which is of course heart wrenching, but dear god, I need a caterer and I don’t know where to look. The best ones are already booked for the gala date, because of course they are. That’s just my luck, you know. Now I have to find one, but I just don’t have time to go to all these tastings.”
Penny is going insane, ranting to me while she bounces Baby J on her lap. I’m a little worried, because Baby J is starting to look a little green, and I know he can have a sensitive stomach.
“Well, what about Parker? Can he watch Baby J while you go look at caterers?” I ask, and she laughs maniacally.
She’s actually starting to scare me a bit with how unhinged she’s behaving.
It’s safe to say that Penny is exhausted. She’s wearing the same clothes that she was yesterday, and hasn’t taken a shower yet this morning. She’s home with the baby most days, and that would be fine if she didn’t have a charity gala to plan, along with her brothers’ birthday party.
“Parker definitely cannot watch Baby J. He is crazy busy at work! It would be like the treasurer asking the president if he could balance some books for him.” Penny shakes her head.
“Come on, Pen, you’re not the treasurer. You’re the president. And sometimes, the president needs a little help — an assistant, if you must.”
“So, what exactly are you planning for Grayson and Preston’s birthday?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing fancy. I rented out the balcony of a restaurant and invited a few important people. I just need to organize a cake and the decorations. That may not seem like a lot, but with all that I still have to do for the gala, it’s basically asking me to carry the world on my back.”
