Page 13 of Pour Decisions
“I’m sure,” Delia said, offering me a bright smile that would’ve made me weak in the knees had I not been seated.
Damn, I really needed to get laid. One look from this girl, one flash of her bright, perfect teeth, and I was half hard.
Quickly, she signed the deed, Logan notarized it, and that was that. As he gathered his things and moved toward the door, blabbing on about recording and copies and other legal bullshit, I held Delia back from following him.
“A word?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said, then looked to her brother-in-law. “I’ll see you up at the house for dinner this week.”
Logan nodded and dropped a kiss to her cheek before disappearing.
Something was seriously wrong with me, because jealousy flared in my chest at that easy affection. He was her brother-in-law, for fuck’s sake. And even if he wasn’t, Delia wasn’t mine to be possessive of. I needed to get my shit together.
When he’d gone, I cleared my throat and said, “I have a meeting with the architect tomorrow. I’d like you there.”
“Well I would hope so since this project is half mine.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes, instead meeting hers, their caramel depths all smoke and mischief.
“Meeting is at eleven, Whiskey,” I said, the nickname slipping far too easily from my tongue.
And the regret was instantaneous.
“Whiskey?” she asked, arching one of her perfect brows.
“Because that’s the—“ I bit off that train of thought, not voicing the words rolling around in my head.
Because that’s the exact color of your eyes, I wanted to say.
Instead, I went with something no less true but in far safer territory.
“Because I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t a bad idea.”
Delia nodded, the hint of a smile tipping up one corner of her mouth. With a mock, two-finger salute, she said, “See you tomorrow, QB,” and left.
Exactly as I didmost days, I woke up on Tuesday morning, got ready, and headed down to Brie’s Bakery. This morning happened to be a special occasion as, for once, all of my sisters were free from work obligations and joining me for breakfast.
When I walked through the doors, the comforting scents of sugar and butter swept over me in the most perfect welcome. I found Ella already seated at our usual table in the corner. It wasn’t surprising that she was the first to arrive given she lived above the flower shop that was only two storefronts down from Brie’s.
“Morning, sunshine,” I said when I dropped onto the chair across from her.
Ella’s only response was a grumble, which was basically a jovial greeting coming from her. With her head tilted down, gaze intent on something on her phone screen, I took a moment to study her. She had changed so much these past few years, and I didn’t just mean the tattoos now dotting her skin or the funkycolors she dyed her hair that changed weekly.
There was something…darker about her now. Ella used to be the most free spirited of us all, content to dig in the dirt, planting flowers and daydreaming about the days when she’d be able to make a career out of her passion. And she’d sort of succeeded by working for Fanny at the flower shop, but it wasn’t the same. Being surrounded by all that vitality should’ve made her happy as a clam. Instead, she seemed lost, like a shell of her former self.
The rest of our sisters and I agreed it was thanks to her piece of shit boyfriend, but if there was one thing the Delatou women were, it was stubborn. There was nothing we could say or do to make her see reason, not until she was ready to hear it.
On the flip side of Ella’s dark coin was Brie, who bounded over to the table, basking all of us in her glow like a ray of sunlight. Her hands were full of platters of an array of her scones and danishes, and her employee followed behind her with a tray of various coffee products for each of us.
Amara and Chloe breezed in one after the other as Brie returned with another tray, this one piled high with breakfast sandwiches and croissants. The scent of fried meat greeted my nose, and I was sliding a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit with tomato and avocado onto my plate before Brie had even set them down.
She reached out and playfully slapped my hand. “Greedy,” she scolded as I took a massive bite.
“Starving,” I corrected, grinning at her with a mouth full of food. God, my sister was so fucking talented. I would happily eat her food all day, every day.
Once we’d all settled around the table, Brie even taking a fewminutes off from fussing over us, we tucked into our food. As plates were cleared and Brie’s confections disappeared, my sisters and I chatted about nothing in particular. Updates on Chloe’s writing, her and Amara’s pregnancies, the winery, flower shop, and bakery floated around us in the kind of easy conversation only sisters could master.
The only one who didn’t open their mouth was me, though I was practically vibrating with the news of my partnership with Owen, damn near bursting at the seams to share my excitement with my favorite people. But I knew we’d circle around to it. And when Amara wiped the corners of her mouth and dropped her napkin onto her plate, her gaze locked with mine, and my moment had arrived.
