Delilah wrinkles her perfect button nose. “This feels like a much bigger deal than writing fake emails for advice.”
Zoey takes her hand back and nods. “I’m hesitant too. Letting you share our personal stories? I’m not sure. Not that I don’t love our house or your offer. It’s very generous.”
Sam steeples her fingers on the table, meeting each of our eyes in turn. “Ladies, are you in or are you out? I need you. I really do. This is big time. Ride or die. I can’t mess this book up. And you all know I couldn’t have done any of the Dr. Love stuff without you.”
“Oh, we’re well aware,” Harper says. “I doubt you’ll be getting a story from me, but I’ll agree to it.”
“You already know I’m in,” I say.
“Me too. Assuming I can find a man,” Delilah says.
“Finding men isn’t your problem,” I tell her. “There are two of them eyeing you at the bar right now.”
I point, and Delilah giggles when two guys in suits lift their drinks her way. Her cheeks turn a rosy pink, making her look even more like a Disney princess. Any minute now, a bird is going to land on her shoulder and start tying ribbons in her hair.
“Okay, fine,” Delilah says.
Zoey is the only one still silent. “Fine,” she finally says. “But I’m only doing it because I like our house. And you guys. I won’t make anything up, though.”
Sam waves a hand. “No made-up stories for the book.”
“But what if none of us can help? What if we stay single?” And cursed, I think.
Sam smiles. “Even if I don’t get any material for the book, the deal stands. But I have hope for you all.”
At least one of us does.
Chapter Two
Abby
On the way out, Zoey and I fall into step on the sidewalk since our buildings are near each other. Zoey is quiet and keeps smoothing back her ponytail, which is already perfect and totally sprayed into submission. This is how I know she’s still uncomfortable with Sam’s love cliché idea.
“It’s going to be fine,” I tell her. “If we find a guy and happen to fall into one of those tropes, great. You don’t have to go chasing after a relationship. I mean, Sam pretty much promised that our lives can go on as normal, and then she’ll keep paying rent after she gets married.”
“It’s not just that,” Zoey says. “I hate change. It’s getting real, you know? The idea of us all moving on at some point. It starts with one person getting engaged. Then all our friendships will change. It’s the beginning of the end.”
“Wow,” I say. “You’re totally doom and gloom about this. Stop worrying so much.”
We reach her building and she lets out a long sigh. “Sorry. I’ll work on it.”
“Maybe something good will come out of it. Besides rent.”
Zoey smiles. “Maybe you’ll end up meeting someone amazing!”
“Doubtful. You see all this?” I wave my hands over my ripped skinny jeans and Hawkins Middle School AV Club graphic T-shirt. “Very few can handle it.”
Her brow furrows. “What’s the AV Club?”
I smile, making a mental note to force Zoey to watch Stranger Things. “Don’t worry about it.”
Zoey and I are like the odd couple. She has on a skirt and blazer, with her crisp white shirt buttoned all the way to the top. She even has on pantyhose, which I personally think is a crime in Texas.
“Oh, before I forget,” Zoey says, “I gave Zane your number.”
“Zane?! You’re setting me up with Zane?!”
Though Zane is gorgeous with his dark blond hair and blue eyes I could drown in, he is exactly like Zoey. Except with the dial turned up to twenty.
I’m shocked, though I don’t hate the idea. I might have a teensy crush on her brother, but there is no way he feels the same. Plus, it’s a total party foul to harbor a secret crush on your best friend’s twin. Which is why I’ve never mentioned it.
Crush? What crush. I have no crush.
Zoey looks at me like I’ve lost it, then starts to laugh so hard that she snorts. “No. Oh my gosh, no. I’m not setting you up with Zane. He’s got some kind of bug with his Eck0 app. You know, his startup. I recommended you.” She laughs again. “You and Zane going out? Wow. No.”
I refuse to be offended, since I agree completely. Zane and I would be even more of an odd couple than me and Zoey. Still, a tiny part of me is hurt. Why couldn’t Zane and I work? They say opposites attract, and we’re basically from different continents. I stuff the hurt feelings down into the deep, dark hole where I hide my crush.
“I love bugs,” I say. “The computer kind. Not the flying-cockroach-as-big-as-your-face kind.”
“Ew. One thing we can agree on. He’ll probably text you today. Be nice.”
“I’m always nice,” I say, itching to bust out my phone and check to see if he’s sent me a message yet.
Still laughing, Zoey walks inside her building, and I head to the job I hate more than flying cockroaches. Today, I’m mostly removing viruses from people opening attachments and doing other mundane work that has me wanting to stick a flash drive in my eye. When my phone finally buzzes with a text from Zane, I practically fall out of my chair.
Unknown number: Abby, this is Zane, Zoey’s brother. We’ve met a few times. She mentioned that you are someone we could hire on a freelance basis to help solve some tech issues we’re finding in our app. Please advise if you’re free and would be able to help. Thanks, Zane.
I’m already chuckling. I’ve never read a text that sounded like a formal letter before. Who texts like this? Zane actually makes Zoey look like a completely unbuttoned wild woman.
This is going to be too much fun. Because there is no way I can not mess with him.
Abby: Hey, Z. Whattup. I do tech like Kanye does bad tweets. Happy to help for a fee or your firstborn child.
While I’m waiting for a response, I plug his number into my phone. It vibrates in my palm a moment later.
Zane: Am I to understand that you would be available? Thanks, Zane.
Abby: I’m available. In all senses of the word.
Oh my gosh. I slap my hand over my mouth as soon as I hit send. Why did I type that? Sometimes my fingers move faster than my brain. I wanted to be funny, but it sounds like I’m flirting instead.
Zane: Wonderful. My assistant will be emailing with the details. It’s somewhat urgent, so we’d like to get started as soon as possible. Tonight, if you are able. I understand you might need to work nights and weekends, due to your current job. We’re at the office late most nights as well. Thanks, Zane.
I can’t decide if Zane missed the flirtation in my previous text, or chose to ignore it and stick to business. I grin, unable to help myself as I start typing again. Zane is like a couch in a furniture showroom, perfectly pristine with throw pillows placed at exact right angles. I just want to jump up and down on it, or maybe kick off my shoes and take a nap.
Abby: Thanks! Can’t wait to see you.
I finish with a kissy face emoji. It makes me laugh so hard that Micah, the other poor, unfortunate IT soul who works with me, swivels in his seat.
“What’s so funny?”
Micah is basically the only person I can stand in my office. Probably because we’re equally overqualified and equally miserable. We’re also both secretly trying to find other jobs and working side gigs, which I’m pretty sure is frowned upon.
“Oh, nothing. Just messing with my friend’s brother.”
“Which friend?” he asks, a little too eagerly. I made the mistake of inviting my friends to my office Christmas party once. Micah has been referring to them as the Hot Squad ever since.
I give him a look. “Reminder: never gonna happen,” I tell him. His ears turn pink. “Not that you’re not a nice guy. Just, no. I’m talking to Zoey’s brother, Zane. Twins, hence the Z names.”
I totally get it, because my brother, Jason, married a Jessa, then had two boys, Jace and Joey. Jessa is due with their third an
y day now. I’m waiting on a call from my mama so I can drive home. I can’t wait to meet my new niece, and not just because her name is Addie. I don’t know why they departed from their preferred naming convention, but I like that it’s close to mine. I have big plans to spoil her rotten.
“So, why are you messing with him?”
“I’m doing some work for his startup, Eck0.”
Micah shifts closer, trying to look at my computer screen. “Eck0? I think I’ve heard of them. So, Zane hired you to help them with an issue.”
“Yep. And he’s got a stick so far up his backside that he’s got antlers,” I say.
As if to prove my point, an email from Zane’s assistant is already waiting in my inbox with an NDA to sign and a few other forms. We often have to fill out something, but the sheer amount of paperwork is overkill.
Micah snorts. “Have fun working with him. If he fires you, send him my way.”
“Fired? Me? Yeah, right.”
“I know, I know. We all know you’re the best.” Micah rolls his eyes and gets back to work. “Just don’t forget about me if you hear of any potential jobs.”
“I always remember the little people who make this possible,” I tell him.
His phone rings, and as Micah answers, I go about adding my electronic signature to a few dozen forms. When I’ve sent them back, I shoot Zane a text.
Abby: Tag! Finished my paperwork. I’m not sure I read all the fine print, though. Hopefully I didn’t sign away the deed to my car.
Zane: You should never sign contracts you haven’t read. Please be advised to read them carefully, sign, and return.
Abby: Kidding. Of course, I read them.
I didn’t. Somewhere in the second paragraph, I zoned out.
Zane: Just to be safe, I’ve had my assistant send fresh copies.
“Argh!”
Micah shushes me, pointing to the phone he’s still got up to his ear. When I check my inbox again, there’s another email with the same forms. Okay, so that backfired.
I can’t handle doing that again, so I close out my email and start working on my actual job. If Zane wants to make sure I’ve read them, I’ll give him plenty of time to know that I have. I put my phone on silent and stuff it in my bag.
Almost an hour later when I finally check, there are no less than five texts from Zane, asking about the paperwork. Each one sounds more irritated than the last. A final text comes through as I’m reading.
Zane: Abby, have you had a chance to read the forms? My assistant says she hasn’t gotten them. Sincerely, Zane.
We’ve moved from “Thanks, Zane” to “Sincerely, Zane.” My guess is that his irritation level has risen. I can imagine him pacing through the office, running his hand through his hair the way Zoey does when she’s mad. I like the mental image of him flustered, with perfectly mussed hair. I bite my lip, trying to shake that thought.
He's Zoey’s brother. Off-limits. No matter how hot he might look with ruffled hair and a scowl. Why is it that scowly guys are so hot? But I know why: Mr. Darcy. That Jane Austen created generations of women who want growly, grumpy men who are hiding a gooey, romantic center.
Instead of searching up Mr. Darcy gifs (which is where my brain wants to go), I send him a meme of the kitten clinging to a branch with the words “hang in there” emblazoned on it.
His response comes just seconds later.
Zane: Do you know when you might have them done? Appreciatively, Zane.
Abby: My lawyer should be done looking at them within the hour.
We both must have the same kind of phone because I can see the dots as he types, then they disappear. As I watch them reappear and disappear, I zip through the forms, adding my signature and sending it back to his assistant.
Zane: Abby, this is a serious matter. If you’re unable to complete simple forms, please recommend someone else. I’m only using you as a favor to Zoey.
Ouch.
As usual, I pushed things a little too far. I enjoy messing with him. I guess he doesn’t feel the same way. Apparently, I’m just annoying. I’m more hurt than I should be.
“You okay?” Micah is suddenly standing over my desk, frowning at me. “You look upset.”
“Fine,” I say.
“If this is about that job, I’m really happy to take it off your hands.”
“I’ve got it,” I say. “Thanks.”
Micah wanders off, probably in search of the coffee that is the only decent part of this office. And it’s not even good coffee.
I type out a plain, boring text to Zane with stiff fingers. Then I delete it and tap out a message somewhere between boring and over the top.
Abby: Your assistant should have received it a few minutes ago. Signed, sealed, delivered.
I considered typing “I’m yours” at the end to complete the song lines. But I can’t bring myself to do it. And I hate that I’m censoring myself for Zane. For anyone else, I would have written it.
I’m about to put away my phone when it buzzes in my hand.
Zane: Guess that means you’re mine? ;) We’re working through dinner over here. Want to come by when you’re done at your office? Ordering from The Wall. Text me your order. Gratefully, Zane.
I can’t help the huge grin that takes over my face. Zane responded to my message with a joke! As for the idea of being his … I have to fan my face with one of the folders on my desk.
I almost text Zoey to ask if she knew her brother actually had a sense of humor underneath his impenetrable shell. And if she told him the name of my favorite Asian takeout. In the end, it feels weird to talk to her about Zane.
Instead, I send Zane a gif of Tom Cruise from Top Gun giving a thumbs-up, along with a request for orange chicken, extra spicy, and fried rice.
The rest of my day, I find myself humming the Temptations under my breath. Five o’clock can’t come fast enough.
Chapter Three
Zane
“Is Abby good at her job?” I demand when my sister finally answers her phone.
“The best,” Zoey says without pause. “Why? I already told you this when I recommended her.”
“I know, it’s just—is she always so …”
I fight for and don’t find the right word for how distracted I’ve been by Abby this afternoon. I don’t want to admit to my sister that the distraction is two-fold. Abby has made me nervous about her professionalism and qualifications with her silly texts, and then by ignoring me for a few hours.
But also? I’ve always been distracted by Abby. My sister’s best friend is unapologetically herself—quirky and outspoken. She’s also gorgeous yet doesn’t flaunt the fact with heavy makeup or skintight clothing. There’s a sense that she finds or creates joy wherever she goes, like she’s wringing out the most she can from her life. It’s a quality that has always reminded me of my mom.
Abby’s texts have kept my mind from work all afternoon. And it’s been the highlight of the year. Not an exaggeration, which is definitely a sign I’m working too much.
Zoey laughs. “Is she messing with you already? Abby’s amazing at her job. She also likes to push buttons. I love her. But she can be … infuriating.”
She definitely is that. But if I’m being honest, Abby is also a lot of things I would never admit to my twin.
Intriguing. Captivating. Surprising. Oddly addictive.
All afternoon I sat through meetings about venture capitalists with my phone in hand, checking for texts. I barely registered whatever Jack was saying about the potential new VCs. Thankfully, that’s mostly his arena. I show up for the dinners, but he’s the one with all the charm to win them over.
“What’s she doing?” Zoey asks. “I’ll help you decode Abby if you need me to.”
“I’ve been waiting a few hours for her to sign the NDA and other paperwork I sent over.”
“That doesn’t sound like Abby. She’s incredibly serious when it comes down to work. Are you sure she got the forms? Maybe you should double-check. Wh
en my firm used her, she had everything back to us in twenty minutes.”
I run a hand through my hair, feeling strangely guilty for my response to Abby earlier.
“Zane?” Zoey says. “What did you do?”
Maybe with her twinsense, Zoey seems to suspect I’ve done something stupid. Which I have.
I roll a pen back and forth across my desk. “She did send back the forms, actually. Rather quickly. Too quickly.” I pause. “So, we sent them again.”
“Zane! Stop being an idiot. That’s completely your fault. She’s probably busy working now. Let me guess. Have you been bothering her all afternoon?”
“Not all afternoon.”
“I swear to you, Zane. Don’t make me regret sending her your way. She’s the best. And she’s my best friend. I don’t want you mucking things up.”
“I have no intention of—”
“And another thing.” Zoey’s really on a roll now. I love it when she gets like this, even if it’s directed at me, because she looks just like Mom used to when she got passionate about something. It makes me feel like a piece of her is still around, living on through Zoey.
“Make sure you keep it professional, Zane.”
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