“Uh. No?” Remi stirred her drink and wished she had stayed at the cottage and suffered through her own company.

“And before you ask me about the kids, let’s talk about how even though she may not look it, a woman can be more than the people she brings into this world.”

Remi peered at her sister over the rim of her glass. “Okay. What’s a safe topic that isn’t going to get my head bitten off?”

Kimber let out a small puff of breath. “Sorry,” she said. “Things are…whatever. I don’t feel like talking about them.”

Her sister’s phone buzzed again. She didn’t look at it.

“You could tell me how great your life is,” Kimber suggested. “But then I’d probably resent you. Then I’d drink too much to compensate. And things would get ugly.”

Remi had never seen her sister hanging by a thread before. Kimber had been born responsible.

Every Friday, she’d marched home to finish up her homework for the weekend. She had tabbed binders with procedures for things like Christmas and meal prep and entertaining. She had planned every detail of her wedding down to packing a day-of emergency kit with stain remover, bandages, breath mints, and safety pins.

Remi, the maid of honor, had ended up needing both the stain remover and the bandages.

Well, hell. It was just another example of Remington Ford being incapable of taking care of herself or others.

“My life is…whatever also. I don’t really want to talk about it,” she said finally.

“Too many boozy brunches and first dates with men who find you wildly intriguing?”

Remi choked on her drink, and Kimber winced. “Sorry. I’m shutting up now. Let’s move to the bar. Brick can referee, and we can talk about something that doesn’t make me feel violent.”

“Any hints on what that might be?” Remi glanced over her shoulder to where the man in question stood in front of bottles of bad decisions waiting to happen.

“Like the initiative thing that Mom dumped on us.” Kimber rose, collecting her coat and drink, leaving Remi no choice but to follow.

She took her time, gathering her things and trudging toward the bar.

This was why acting on impulse was bad. She could have been at home in front of the fire with a bowl of macaroni and cheese in her lap streaming trashy TV. But nooooooo. She was too scared to be alone so she’d put on stupid pants and braved the frigid night air just to be annoyed by her sister and glared at by a bartender.

She really needed to look into making better life choices.

“We thought we could talk about your idea from last night,” Kimber was saying to Brick.

Remi busied herself by dumping her coat over the back of the stool.

“Go easy on that,” Brick said, nodding toward her drink.

She looked him dead in the eyes while taking several long swallows from the straw.

Darius hooted until Brick shot him a look. “It’s on you if she gets out of control,” Brick warned the man.