Page 31 of Business Casual
Layla reaches out and smacks him in the arm.
Beckett curls his body away from her. “What the hell?”
“Goddamn it, Beckett! I can’t be mad now! That’s romantic.” She rounds the chair and collapses in it, the velvet material making a weird wheezing noise. “It’s also perfect for the two of you. I’m just upset I wasn’t there.” She points her finger in his face. “I should have been there.”
He slaps her hand away. “That’s fine.”
“I still want to make the cake.”
He perks up. “That is definitely fine.”
I clap my hands together behind the desk. Mending bridges. Repairing relationships. Ordering…hay. This meeting is officially a success. I am ten thousand miles away from my other life, where everything is shiny, and my phone doesn’t stop ringing, and my brain hops from one thing to the next without taking a damn second to breathe. Where I sit alone in an office and watch the world spin out below my feet.
There are things I like about New York. I like the anonymity and the looming expanse of it all. I like my apartment and the way it’s never truly dark, the glow of the city at night like a million fallen stars just outside my window. I like the subway beneath my feet on coldmornings and coffee in little blue paper cups, warm between my palms. Hot dogs in wax paper and the press of the crowd during the morning rush, everyone moving together. I like losing myself, but sometimes—
Sometimes I think I miss being known.
I miss having a place I fit. People who remember that I like zucchini bread with extra chocolate chips. An overstuffed chair covered in horrendous green velvet, one of the arm rests wobbling every time I try to rest my chin in my hand. A cat weaving between my legs while I try to figure out how I can get Beckett to agree to a dinner where he may or may not be the center of attention.
Layla pats the top of my hand. “Hey. Where’d you go?”
I drag my hand over my face. “Nowhere.” Everywhere. “Sorry, I’m here. I’m listening.”
I was diagnosed with ADHD as a kid after my parents dragged me to a staggering amount of doctors to “fix the problem.” My dad’s words, not mine. If my dad could have paid money for all of it to go away, he would have. He still sees it as his biggest failure as a parent, this thing that means my brain works a little bit differently than everyone else’s. As a kid, I was overactive. Talked a mile a minute. Had trouble focusing and engaging with others while my brain was going at a sprint. I’d forget where I put my stuff and forget where I was supposed to be at certain times. I’d get anxious and then sad and then sad about being anxious.
As an adult, it’s easier. I’ve learned to work with my brain instead of against it. But I still drift from time to time.
Layla smiles at me. “Do you want me to repeat what I just said?”
“Yes, please.”
“We were discussing the harvest festival.”
I frown. “What harvest festival?”
Beckett leans forward, and Layla finally allows him to scoop up some crumbs from the tray with his fingertips.
“Every year the town throws a harvest festival,” he explains. “But they’re trying to make a big thing of it this year. Make it a destination event or something. Stella is on the committee.”
My knee works up and down beneath the desk. Prancer darts out and finds her spot back on Beckett’s lap. “Neither of you mentioned this during our planning. Did you?”
We had several weeks of covert meetings over FaceTime as we tried to figure out the logistics of me taking over management of the farm while Stella and Luka went on their honeymoon. I don’t remember hearing about a committee, but sometimes it’s hard for me to keep track of the details.
Beckett shrugs. “It slipped my mind.”
Layla fusses with the edge of her skirt. “Mine too.”
I dart my eyes between them. “Why are you guys being weird?”
Layla’s“We’re not being weird”overlaps Beckett’s“You’re the one who’s being weird.”
I frown at them. They exchange a glance.
Layla sighs. “Neither of us…want to be on the committee.”
Beckett crosses his arms over his chest. “If you make me be on this committee, I will quit on the spot.”
“Please don’t do that.” I scratch at my jaw. I have no idea how to plant…anything. And Stella would be pissed if she came back to a farm without any farmers. “What’s wrong with the committee?”
