Page 4 of Last on the List
“You know what, Bec?” I scratch my head, my face growing serious. “Until you told me not to screw it up, I had totally planned on screwing it up. So I’m glad you made that distinction before I move in there tomorrow. We really dodged a bullet.”
She shoots me a lethal glare. “Just be professional, Cozy. I know how you can be sometimes.”
My jaw drops as she leaves me with that bolstering remark. I point at the empty doorway. “Can you believe her?”
Dakota shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe this job opportunity is good timing. I’m sensing a bit of tension between the Barlow sisters.”
I prop my hands on my hips, glowering at my sister’s guest room littered with my stuff. “I swear she doesn’t know me as an adult at all. Why would she act like I don’t know how to be professional?”
“Well…” Dakota’s traitorous voice rises in pitch.
I shoot her accusing eyes. “What?”
She winces slightly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love your ‘Great Defrost Cozy.’ It’s reminiscent of the original Cozy Cassie who I thought was gone forever from our childhood. But a lot has happened in the past six months. You changed from a woman we barely saw for years and was too busy to let her childhood bestie visit her in Denver to…whatever this version of yourself is. It’s a lot to take in.”
“I know, I know,” I mumble, shaking away the memory that always causes a pit to form in my stomach. “But don’t worry because Denver Cozy is long gone. And I have my Cozy Cassie hips back to prove it.” I bite the head off a gummy worm to accentuate my point before tossing the bag back onto the bed. I glance at myself in the mirror and tug at my oversized sweatshirt. I’ve gained a solid ten pounds since moving in with my sister, but it doesn’t bother me. It’s a sign that I’m happy. The slimmer version of myself that I was in Denver was stress-induced. I’d much rather be plus-sized and happy than mid-sized and miserable.
I retreat into my closet for a second armful.
“I do agree with your sister that it was time you finally got a job,” Dakota calls to me. “Selling your homemade charcuterie boards every other week was not going to get you out of Rebecca’s house anytime soon.”
“You know I don’t make my boards for the money,” I huff, nearly tripping on a dress that gets tangled under my feet as I come walking back out. “In fact, I wouldn’t sell any of my boards if you’d stop telling people about my hobby.”
“I know it’s your ‘therapy.’” Dakota finger quotes. “But you’re too good at it not to do something with it. I’m telling you, if you worked on those boards more than a few hours a week, you could turn your hobby into a legitimate business. I could help you set up an Etsy shop. Hell, you could sell the boards in my store!”
I eye my best friend with a look that tells her this conversation needs to stop. “This is my year of doing less. It’s like a gap year, remember?”
“At twenty-six years old.”
My lips thin, and Dakota finally gets the message and holds her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine, I’ll shut up.” She pops another worm into her mouth.
I love my childhood bestie, and it’s been great to reconnect with her these past six months, but she’s just as lovingly pushy as she was when we were kids. She was always like the mini mom of our group, organizing activities for all of us and checking in on the weekends. Harping on us to get our college applications in. Honestly, it’s kind of shocking she has such a hip little business now. I swore she was going to go the young motherhood route with her high school sweetheart and have two or three kids by now. But she’s single and a boss ass bitch of her own graphic tee shop downtown. She sells the cutest little slogan shirts and does a lot of mail-order business internationally because she teamed up with one of her college friends, who turned out to be this huge plus-sized designer in Aspen.
Tatianna Ashley kind of blew up when she was featured on an episode ofProject Runway. She specializes in formal wear but has designed a line of size-inclusive tees for Dakota’s store that really helped elevate her business from an Etsy shop to a legitimate storefront that has so much inventory she can’t run it out of her home anymore. It’s amazing.
I’m currently wearing a powder-blue sweatshirt from Tatianna’s line that says Aspen Bae. All Dakota’s stuff is cozy and chic with lots of retro styles and designs. I want my entire wardrobe to be from her shop. It’s like…unpretentious loungewear with a sense of humor. She even has these fun tie-dye classes every week, which is where I made the orange set that I wore to my job interview a few days ago.
The job interview that I surprisingly nailed…with Everly, at least, who seems like a cool kid. Her dad, on the other hand…
“So what do you get paid for this nanny gig?” Dakota asks, chewing on another worm. “Is it a huge pay cut from your previous job?”
A small tremor runs through me at her mention of my past job. “I never asked what it pays.”
“Are you serious?” Dakota gapes at me like I have two heads. “Does your sister know?”
I shrug and move over to my dresser to begin emptying its contents. “Probably.”
“Your ‘do less’ vibe is going to be the death of me, Cozy.” She sits up and pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “It has to be good. Max Fletcher is like…the only Boulder billionaire in existence.”
“He’s a billionaire?” I ask, turning to look at her. “No billionaire I ever met interviewed their own staff.”
“Met a lot of billionaires, have you?” Dakota quirks a brow at me.
“Just a couple…at the old job.” I swallow a knot in my throat. “But it was obvious. They walked around with staff and security. Didn’t drive themselves. I’m sure they don’t even know their kids. Plus, they’re all old. Max doesn’t look old enough to be a billionaire. How old is he?”
“I’m internet stalking as we speak.” Dakota focuses on her phone intently. “He’s thirty-four. Born and raised in Boulder. Net worth is one hundred million. So you’re right, he’s not a billionaire. What a slacker.”
“Yeah…total loser.” I force out a laugh.
