46
Kennedy
I was in the kitchen making lunch when the front door opened, and Nash and my brother walked in together. They were similarly dressed, in sweatpants and hooded sweaters, and it was such a flashback to high school gym class that it made me smile.
Jackson was in the city for a couple of days for client meetings, and I was excited we had a chance to hang out, but the timing wasn’t great. Nash was stressed about his career and the fact that no decision had been made, and I was stressed about the fact that he was stressed.
Still, I appreciated that Jackson had gotten him out of his head for a while.
“Hi, baby,” Nash said as he crossed the room, his arms sliding around my waist and pulling me into a tight hug.
“Hi.” I sighed, melting into him. “How was Mitch?”
“Good.” He pressed a quick kiss to my temple before letting me go.
Behind him, Jackson groaned dramatically. “Do you two ever stop?”
“Why would we want to do that?” Nash asked teasingly.
“Watch it, Reed. You may be bigger, but I know where you sleep.”
“Jackson,” I groaned, already knowing what he’d walked right into.
“Yeah,” Nash said, grinning, “all wrapped up around your sister.”
I smacked him lightly on the chest, trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh. “You never learn,” I told Jackson.
Jackson just shook his head while muttering something under his breath, but there was at least the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Do you need help?” Nash asked, leaning against the counter.
“No, I’m good. It’s almost ready.”
“All right,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’m gonna call Isaac back. Something about the wedding.”
“Have you thought of any ideas for his bachelor party?” Jackson asked casually behind me.
“Shit!” I spun toward Nash. “Have you booked a hotel room and airline tickets yet?”
Isaac and Melinda’s destination wedding in Barbados was planned for July during the MLB All-Star break. We’d known for a while, but with everything going on, I’d completely forgotten about it. Not that sand and sunny skies didn’t sound absolutely wonderful.
“What?” Nash’s eyes went wide. “For the wedding?”
I nodded.
“Uh . . . no.”
“Shit,” I muttered again, grabbing my phone. “We need to do that. Jackson, have you?”
“Yeah. I booked around the same time Mom and Dad did.”
Great. Of course he had.
“What if there are no rooms left?” I put my phone back down and reached for the iPad instead, my pulse starting to climb.
“Babe.” Nash gently took the iPad from my hands and set it back on the counter. “Stop stressing. There are rooms sectioned off for the wedding party. I’m pretty sure Isaac already made sure we have one, okay? Let me call him first, and then we’ll book everything else.”
I forced a slow breath in. “Okay.”
He gave me that soft, reassuring smile and made his call.
Jackson set the table while I finished making the sandwiches. Behind us, Nash laughed at something Isaac said, and the deep, warm sound lessened a bit of the tension from my shoulders.
“We have a room, babe,” Nash called from the living room. “A suite, actually—with ocean views.”
“Thank God.”
Not that I cared about the suite or the oceanfront part . . . but I also wasn’t going to say no to it.
He came back into the kitchen a minute later. “It’s Wednesday through Sunday. We can extend it if you want to stay longer, but if not, we’re all set. All we need to do is book flights.”
“Okay. Good.” That made me feel better. “We can do that today.”
“I think we should plan Isaac’s bachelor party for that Thursday,” Jackson said, grabbing an iced tea from the fridge.
“Yeah?” Nash’s head snapped up. “You don’t think we should do it before Barbados?”
“We’ll never be able to get all his friends in one spot before then.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s mid-season for them,” Nash agreed.
“All right,” I said, placing the soup and sandwiches on the table. “Why don’t you guys start eating? I’ll grab my iPad, and we can plan Isaac’s bachelor party while we eat.”
“You can’t be part of that,” Jackson said, eyes wide, like I’d suggested something incredibly inappropriate.
“Why not?” I asked. “He doesn’t need to know.”
“Yeah, but it’s just . . . weird.”
“Oh, Jackson.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m just helping, okay? I’m not judging. I get it, you’ll be seeing strippers or drinking your asses off in the pool before noon. I’m just trying to help you find classier strippers.”
Nash chuckled, but Jackson looked horrified.
“Ugh . . . seriously?” Jackson turned from me to Nash. “You’re okay with this?”
“Why not?” Nash shrugged. “She’s good at this kind of stuff.”
“Ha!” I couldn’t help but smirk.
“So, do you think people will be there by Thursday?” Nash asked.
“The rehearsal dinner is on Friday, so I’d assume the bridal party and parents will be there Thursday.” I pointed my spoon at Jackson. “When are you, Mom, and Dad arriving?”
“Wednesday. Mom and Liz coordinated.”
“Of course they did.” Nash shook his head, grinning.
Our moms had always been elite-level planners. When we were growing up, they had carpools down to a science, and whenever we traveled, which was usually for some kind of sporting event, we either shared an Airbnb or had adjoining hotel rooms.
“How many guys are going to be there?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Nash said.
“How many in the bridal party?”
“Three, maybe—”
“Four,” Jackson corrected him. He pointed at Nash. “You.” Then he pointed at himself. “Me, Isaac’s friend from baseball—”
“Jacob,” Nash said helpfully.
“Right. And Melinda’s brother.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about him.” Nash chuckled.
“What’s his name?” I asked so I could write it down.
“Paul.”
“You’ll need to figure out the rest of the guests from someone other than Isaac,” I reminded him.
“Okay.” Nash nodded, reaching for another sandwich. “I’ll text Mom later.”
“Who do we have for now besides the groomsmen and Isaac?”
“My dad, your dad. My uncles. A few of Isaac’s teammates . . . I’m honestly not sure.” Nash pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ll just call my mom now.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon planning Isaac’s party.
They’d start with a morning round of golf, followed by lunch on the hotel patio overlooking the ocean.
After that, everyone would have a few hours to shower and get ready for the evening.
Limos would take them into town for dinner and then to a club or whatever trouble they felt like getting into.
Nash and Jackson were hunched over the computer debating between bars, and I decided they could handle that part without me.
I stepped into the living room and called Sammy to check in. She’d just gotten the keys to her new apartment, a small one-bedroom closer to work.
“How is it?” I asked. “Are you excited to finally be in?”
“Yes! I love it. It’s definitely small but cute.”
“When do you have to hand over the keys to the old place?”
“Saturday. I have the final walkthrough after work.”
“I’ll be there if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
She went on to tell me about the new decorations she’d bought and a painting she was thinking of hanging over the couch. I smiled, listening to the excitement in her voice, and we chatted for a few minutes before saying goodbye.
I had just ended the call when Jackson’s voice came from down the hall. “Ken, can you come to the office?”
I found him standing in the middle of the room, staring at the chaotic pile of my things spread across the desk and the boxes from Sammy’s old apartment stacked on the floor. He’d showered and shaved and was now dressed in jeans and a blue-and-white-striped button-down.
“Can I use the office? Like . . . do you mind if I move all this?” He waved at the clutter.
“Of course you can. I’ll help you.”
The office was the smallest of the three bedrooms, tucked between the guest room and the master. Nash almost never used it. He preferred to work on his laptop at the kitchen island or sprawled on the couch, so it had become more of a storage room.
“So . . . I found something just now,” Jackson said as he stacked boxes by the wall.
I looked up at him, and for a second, he looked so much like a younger version of our dad that it caught me off guard.
“Okay?”
“Let me show you,” he said, grabbing his laptop.
“There’s a small boutique ad agency downtown.
” He pulled up the website and turned the screen toward me.
“The owner is retiring. They have five employees, and from what I can tell, the equipment is good, and it has a decent location. But they lost two major accounts over the last quarter, so the valuation has dropped, and it’s way below what the assets are actually worth. ”
“And?” I asked, already guessing what he was thinking.
“And I think we should buy it,” he said. “Rebrand it. Build Miller’s Advertising from the ground up.”
“Are you serious?” It was exactly what I wanted. Something that would be mine, where I’d have creative control.
“Yeah. Absolutely. It’s a good investment, and I think we can do this.”
“Holy shit, Jackson. Really?”
He grinned. “Yeah, Kennedy. If you’re open to it, I’ll dig a little deeper, and if it still looks good, I say we make an offer.”
I couldn’t stop smiling as I told him to go ahead, though a small part of me couldn’t help wondering if I’d even be here.