Ava's Point of View
Andre was sitting alone in the living room, elbows on his knees, staring at his phone with the kind of intensity reserved for nuclear launch codes. His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line… and then he groaned.
"I need an event planner. No— I said an event planner, not a wedding planner. It's for a birthday. A simple birthday. Look, I know what she likes— obviously, she's my sister— but I don't know what young adults like these days. Yes, young adult! She's not a child. Can you just… find me a good event planner or not?!"
He ended the call with a defeated thud of his thumb.
I couldn't help it.
A laugh slipped out.
He snapped his head toward me, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What?"
"Nothing," I said, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing again. "Just… you look like you're about to file a complaint against the entire birthday industry."
