Page 37 of Brother in Law with Benefits

"Halfway through. Holding up better than I am."

"That'll be true the whole way. My mother was the same." He rests his hands on the cart handle. "You're the one who's been overseas."

"Just for a while." It comes out steadier than it has any right to. "There's a contract waiting on me. Brazil. They want an answer."

"When?"

"Soon."

He lets that sit exactly as long as it deserves to, which is not long.

"What were you doing over there that they want you in Brazil for?"

"Infrastructure. Water, roads, power. Mostly water."

He looks at me a second longer than the conversation needs.

"Your dad framed my father's garage," he says. "Nineteen eighty-something. Wouldn't take money for it. My old man complained about that for thirty years."

"That sounds like him."

"Sullivan Construction just landed the water main system for the whole town. Two-year project, and I need a project manager who's actually done it." He says it the way he'd read a measurement off a tape. "You're going to say you've got a contract waiting."

"I do."

"I'm aware. I'm asking anyway." He shrugs. "$120K base. Benefits. Normal hours. Room for partnership down the line if it goes well."

Eighty thousand less than Brazil. He doesn't flinch saying it, and I'd like the record to show I don't flinch hearing it.

"Fair warning," he adds, before I've answered. "It's slower than what you're used to. Small-town politics. Council meetings. Everyone knows everyone."

"I grew up here."

"I know you did." He takes out his phone. "That's half of why I'm asking."

I give him my number, which I notice myself doing.

"No decision required," he says, putting the phone away. "Sit on it. Number stays the same either way."

Then he goes.

I stand in the aisle with a list in my mother's handwriting and finish the shopping.

Broth. Eggs. Crackers.

11

Sophie

I'm doing it again.

I've been sitting in my car in Patty's driveway for six minutes staring at the coffee carrier in my passenger seat. Three cups. One decaf with almond milk for Patty. One black with sugar for Grant. One with cream for me. I got them at the drive-through on autopilot because apparently my hands have decided what we're doing even when my brain is still running the pros-and-cons spreadsheet.

Grant's truck is in the driveway.

Which means I have to go inside.

Which means I have to face him.