Page 52 of Situationship
“Right now.” He leaned in and he gave her cheek a sweet kiss, then whispered, “You’re doing a great job. Your kids are clearly happy and feel secure and, most importantly, they’re surrounded with love. Cut yourself some slack, Bianchi. You’re doing the best you can right now.”
“Then why does it feel like my best isn’t good enough?”
He crooked a finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could look her square in the eye. “Because good parents are always the hardest on themselves. Look at me—I just ripped the door off my daughter’s room.”
“It seemed justifiable. I’m actually impressed that you didn’t run it through a wood chipper.”
He grinned. “Impressed, huh?”
“I can’t believe I’m going to go through this, times two,” she said. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Harley is really coming through.”
“I guess we are both learning that people can change, and sometimes for the better.”
Chapter 13
Being sisters means you always have backup.
—Unknown
Harley was stuck between adulting and a huge promise. Two things that gave her hives.
She didn’t do the first because it meant being reliable. And she didn’t do the second because it meant being reliable. Growing up, Harley hadn’t been shown many examples of what that even looked like.
She’d been a lot of things in her lifetime: crony, colleague, sister, wing-girl, alibi, backup driver. But she’d never been the backup plan. The person who held down the fort while the parents were away. She was large and in charge but not when it came to anything that really mattered.
Like family.
It was Saturday, which was farmer’s market day. Harley had been assistant baker, brander, marketer, packager, and that was all before sunrise.
Knowing that Bread N Butter’s branding was thirty years outdated, she’d spent the better part of the week designing a new logo, even making pamphlets for tourists and small businesses. Then there were the newBREAD N BUTTER ME BEAUTIFULstickers, which she’d stuck on every package of bread before it went out the door. And when that door had closed, Harley switched gears.
Nannying had become one of her favorite parts of the day. She loved every moment of it because it brought her and her nieces closer—and carved out a small place in their day-to-day lives where Auntie Harley belonged.
But right then, Harley belonged across town for an appointment with a prospective client. She was meeting with Ian, the owner of the Soup Stop, a waterfront café that was famous for its clam chowder and chili bowls. Ian had agreed to meet her for coffee to discuss serving his soups in Bread N Butter’s sourdough bowls. Which would be a huge win for the business—and it was too late to cancel. Especially since Harley had rescheduled with him twice already due to family calendar mishaps.
And now, Teagan had called a couple of hours ago, saying she’d be a little late. Delores, from Lighthouse Hotel, had finally swung by the farmer’s market to taste their bread. It sounded as if it was going well and Harley didn’t want to rush things, but even when both she and Teagan were home, they were clearly outmatched by the twins.
Sure, there were times over the past month when Harley had screwed up and let Teagan down. Hell, they were both screwed up, thanks to their crazy childhood, but this was her time to right some of those wrongs. So, last week, Harley had made an executive decision that would make her sister’s life so much easier. She’d put out feelers for a when-needed nanny and found the perfect one. The sitter was mature, reliable, and lived nearby. Providing Teagan and Harley with a solution for the occasional cross-booking on the family calendar.
Which was how Harley made it to the historic downtown with time to spare.
Downtown Pacific Cove was over a century old and spanned five blocks, which were lined with gas lamps and double-storied storefronts, made of hand-laid brick with brightly painted trim. Retailers and cafés occupied the ground-floor spaces, while the upper floors were mostly residential.
With its cobblestoned sidewalks and upcycled water basins, which were originally used for tired horses and now overflowed with white tulips and bright lavender ornamental cabbage, Pacific Cove looked like the set of a Hallmark movie. To Harley, it was starting to feel like home.
Laptop and branding package in hand, stride dialed to a full strut, she headed up Lighthouse Way, reaching the Soup Stop right as her phone pinged.
Nervous that it might be the sitter texting to tell her that the twins were anarchists, she quickly pulled her cell out of her purse. And that strut turned into a stumble.
It was Bryan. Sending the latest text in a never-ending and ongoing thread which consisted of him asking how she was doing, and her promising herself she’d answer as soon as she got up the courage. But courage or not—and it was definitely a not situation—she knew she had to respond now.
Besides the sporadicI’m goodandHow are yous, she’d been putting him off for weeks, and that wasn’t the mature or right thing to do. And Harley was on a new path.
Rule Four: Adulting is doing the right thing even when it’s the hard thing.
She read his text.
WHEN YOU’RE NOT DEAD
