Page 138 of Business Casual
“We’ve incorporated a lot of your ideas, Charlie, and we’re excited about what the future holds.”
“Why do you sound like an infomercial?”
“Please shut up.”
Stella then proceeds to walk through an incredibly detailed outline of the future of Lovelight Farms. There are spreadsheets and bargraphs and figures with little holly berries as status points. She hands it over to Layla to talk about bakery expansion and initiatives, and Beckett grumbles his way through his commitment to sustainable farmers markets. Luka rattles off some financial figures with a yawn, and Evie jumps in with some notes about the social media potential and organic growth. It’s fine—interesting from a business perspective, I guess—but we’re not even halfway through this document and I still don’t understand why all these people are in my living room giving a business pitch. This is notShark Tank.
Charlie shares my confusion, frowning down at the paperwork in his hands. “This is all really great, Stella, but I don’t understand why you’re telling me.” He blinks up at her and fixes a half smile on his face. “I’m really proud of you. You know that. Are you—” He glances at Beckett, at Layla, at Caleb, and at Evelyn. Luka has managed to fall asleep halfway beneath my coffee table. “Are you applying for some sort of grant? Is this your practice run?”
Beckett drags his hand over his face. Caleb grins. And Stella keeps staring at her brother like she wants to hug him and throttle him in the exact same breath.
And that’s when I realize what’s happening.
I straighten in Charlie’s lap, the nicely laminated document sliding from my legs to the floor. “Oh!”
Charlie glances at me. “Oh, what?”
It’s a presentation. For his consideration.
They’re giving the full picture of where the business is and where it’s going. They’re trying to entice Charlie. With a job offer.
I think, anyway. They’re certainly taking the long way around.
And Charlie—Charlie who has always met the needs of the people around him without waiting for them to ask, Charlie who has given so much of himself over and over, Charlie who is used to being selected last or not at all—he has no idea.
“If you flip to the next page,” Caleb offers, a laugh in his voice, “you’llsee that Abuela would like to sweeten the deal with twice-monthly deliveries of tres leches. I promise not to take bites before it gets to you.”
“And Gus said you can pick the trivia team of your choice,” Layla adds. “You don’t have to wait for the new season to register.”
“Family dinners are on Tuesdays,” Beckett barks. “Your attendance is mandatory.”
They don’t just want him to join the business but the town, I realize. This family and these friends and—according to page thirty-eight, appendix twelve—the phone tree. The back half of this document is a list of all the things he’d receive if he decided to move here full time. A standing booth at Matty’s on deep-dish pizza night. Hazelnut lattes from the café with no hassle from Beatrice.
Charlie flips through the next couple of pages, his knuckles brushing against my thigh through the slit in my silver dress. I grin at the top of his head and try not to let it burst out of me, wanting him to come to the realization on his own. And I think maybe this might be it, the best part of loving Charlie. This bright, incandescent joy that’s spilling over in the middle of my chest that’s a little for me but mostly for him. Getting to hold on to his happiness like it’s my own. Getting to share it.
“I don’t—” Charlie’s sentence stutters to a stop, his gaze caught on a page that has a series of four stacked photos. Black-and-white and grainy,Peters, Stellain the top right corner. Luka sits up on his elbows and grins.
Not asleep, I guess.
“I want it to be a family business. Our family. You were right when you said we missed too much time together,” Stella explains. She sets her palm low against her belly. “And this little one is going to need Uncle Charlie around, don’t you think?”
Charlie stares at the presentation in his hands. His thumb traces the edge of the picture with his little niece or nephew, and he heavesa deep, rattling sigh. I rub the place between his shoulder blades and his other hand squeezes my leg tight. He looks at Stella. “I knew you were crying too much.”
She’s crying now. Fat, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. To be fair, she’s not the only one. Caleb sniffles but tries to hide it. Layla hands him a tissue from her pocket.
“We figured if Nova couldn’t close the deal on her own, we’d give it a shot,” Beckett says. Evelyn leans against his chest, and he wraps both of his arms around her with a rare grin. “Take it or leave it. The offer is on the table.”
Charlie swallows hard and looks up at me, faint disbelief in the blue of his eyes.
“Is this—” He has to pause to clear his throat. “Is this too much?” His voice cracks on the question. I hear what he doesn’t say, still staring up at me like he’s not quite sure he’s in the place he’s supposed to be.Am I too much? Are you going to want me for longer than this? Can I stay here with you?
I scratch my nails through his hair and tip my forehead to his. I circle his wrist with my fingers and trace my thumb over the flower I gave him when I wasn’t brave enough to find the right words.
But I have them now.
I kiss the bridge of his nose. The corner of his mouth. His hands tighten on me, and he tugs me closer, tipping my mouth to his.
I smile into his kiss.
