More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(17)

“What do you mean?”

“That’s why I can’t make our game tonight. Tina-related family crisis. Again! She didn’t tell any of us in time for us to intervene, but she’s gone and bought a fucking restaurant. In some dinky town on the Garden Route. And she’s enlisted Libby to be her head chef.”

Way to go, Tina! was Harris’s first thought.

“So, we’re having a family meeting tonight, to try and figure out how to spin it when this venture goes belly up too. She’s never had employees before. People’s livelihoods are on the line—the potential PR disaster for the family is fucking catastrophic. Just typical Tina, really. She never thinks things through. What she knows about running a business, much less a restaurant, could fill a thimble.”

Harris felt a growl building in his throat, and he gritted his teeth as he continued to listen to his friend bitch and moan about Tina and her past and present failings.

“Why not help her succeed instead of expecting her to fail?” Harris interrupted curtly. He found Smith’s catalogue of Tina’s supposed character flaws infuriating.

Silence.

“What?” Smith asked after a beat, his voice uncertain, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he had just heard.

“You’re always expecting her to crash and burn and then criticizing her when she does fail. Have you ever fucking once tried to offer her support and guidance? You’re a business-savvy guy, Kyle runs the family company—either of you could steer her in the right direction. Want to avoid a PR disaster? Man up and be a brother to your little sister. She’s been trying for fucking years to find her niche . . . and none of you have lifted a finger to help her.”

“She was supposed to go to medical school, you know that.” Tina had dropped out of medical school after just six months, which had been shocking, considering her once-burning desire to be an obstetrician.

“And medical school wasn’t for her, so she’s trying to find something else. I’ve listened to some variation or the other of this bullshit countless times over the years, Smith. And I’m fed up with it. There’s an almost sick glee in your voice when she does flop at something. What the fuck, man?”

“It’s not like I want her to fail,” Smith said defensively.

“You could have fooled me, bro.” There was no disguising the derision in his voice. “How the hell do you think she feels every time she has to listen to all of you criticize her every decision?”

“We love her—we want better for her.”

“Why don’t you just love her?” Harris suggested, the heat going out of his voice. His fingers unconsciously reached for the pendant tucked away beneath his shirt, and he traced its familiar outline through the fabric. “Unconditionally?”

He could hear Smith swallow heavily before clearing his throat.

“I have to . . . uh . . .” Smith stalled, as if gathering his thoughts. “I’ll talk to you soon. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

They disconnected the call, and Harris swore fiercely beneath his breath. He should probably have gone a little easier on his friend. But after years of minding his own business, thinking it wasn’t his place, it was past time he spoke up.

Tina was so damned brave. Never afraid to try new things. He wondered who, if anybody, was advising her. Certainly not her bloody family. Granted, she had a world-class chef in Libby, but Libby unabashedly admitted to having little-to-no business sense. So many startup businesses failed within the first year, and Harris was concerned for Tina. He wanted her to find professional success. Perhaps he was doing her an injustice in simply assuming she’d need help. Tina was a surprising woman, and if anybody could make this work, she could. Still, it always helped to have someone in your corner. Someone to turn to for advice.

He wished Smith would pull his head out of his ass and be there for her. He wished he could be the one to extend an offer of assistance if she needed it, but he knew that would go down like a lead balloon.

He sighed and tried to shift his attention back to work, but his concentration was shot. He couldn’t focus on the financial report in front of him, his mind constantly drifting to Tina. After half an hour of wasting time googling restaurants in the Garden Route, he still couldn’t figure out which one she might have purchased. It would help to know the town’s name, of course, but Libby hadn’t told him anything about this, and he had no clue where to start looking.

His phone pinged, signaling a text message, and he lifted it absently, expecting to find a message from Smith. Maybe telling him to butt out of Jenson family business.

Instead, he smiled when he saw the name on his phone screen. Libby. She sent him a text every day, never really saying much . . . just telling him they were doing well. The text was usually the highlight of his day, filled with pictures of Clara and Libby in their new life. The baby was growing beautifully. The perfect blend of Libby and Greyson, with golden-brown skin, a shock of dark hair, a rosebud mouth, a tiny and still-undefined button nose, dimples, long, long lashes, and dark-blue eyes. The exact same shade of blue as her father’s.

Harris was completely in love with his gorgeous niece, and, as was his habit, since Libby had started sending him these photos, he picked the cutest one and forwarded it to Greyson. He didn’t do it out of kindness, more as a “see what you’re missing out on because you’re such a dickhead?” dig at his stupidly stubborn brother.