Page 32 of Pour Decisions
“I can’t accept it.”
“You can,” I assured her, brooking no room for argument, using the same tone I’d perfected over a lifetime of corralling younger siblings and two decades of leading football teams. “And you will.”
Her cheeks pinked, and she opened her mouth, presumably to refute me again.
I cut her off before she could.
“Seriously, Whiskey. You deserve this.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll do it.”
The hue of her face deepened, and she dropped her eyes to the table in front of her, her hair falling around her, hiding her from me.
My fingers itched to tuck under her chin and force her to meetmy gaze, to reassure her she was worth every good thing she got and then some.
But that wasn’t my job. My job was to be her partner—maybe even her friend, eventually. No more and no less.
Thinking of Delia Delatou in any capacity outside of anything strictly platonic was a recipe for disaster.
The entire Delatou gangdescended on Owen’s restaurant Friday evening for our weekly family dinner. By the entire gang, I meanteveryone. Me, of course, Mom and Dad, Chloe and Logan, Amara and Calvin, Ella and her dumbass boyfriend, Alfie, Brie, and even Ezra, his son, Hansen, and his father, Fredrik, who insisted we call him Rik. Ezra had invited himself because, and I quote, “I refuse to miss a meal at a place like Birdie’s, especially if you’re paying.” While he wasn’t technically family, he’d been working for us long enough to feel like part of it.
Tonight, we were celebrating my new title as social media manager for Birdie’s, Lawless, and Overtime.
“Well,” my dad said, clapping his hands together. “What kind of wine do we want?”
“Josh!” Alfie quipped, and every one of us Delatou girls glared daggers at him, save Ella, who rolled her eyes and huffed out a little sigh that sent her bangs floating.
My father leveled a finger at him from the head of the table. “Utter that name again in my presence and they’ll never find your body.”
“Easy, big guy,” Alfie joked, raising his palms placatingly. “It was just a joke.”
“A really fucking bad one,” I mumbled.
Alfie’s sharp features narrowed on me. “Fuck off.”
My hackles rose, and I looked to my sister for backup. Ella only turned her face away, pretending to examine the wine menu though we all knew Ezra would be selecting for the table.
So I returned my gaze to her boyfriend, the little pissant, and said, “You are aware I’m paying for your meal tonight, right?”
“And?” Alfie sneered.
“And if you speak to me like that again, I’ll hang you out to dry.”
Alfie’s eyes flared, challenge accepted, but my sister settled a hand on his forearm. “Back off, Alf,” she said quietly.
After a beat, Alfie did as he was told, mumbling, “whatever” as he turned to Ella and whispered something in her ear that had her face going pale.
Before I could address the situation, could find some way to rid us of this leech sucking the life out of my sister, Owen appeared at my father’s side, settling a hand on his shoulder.
“Welcome, Delatou family,” he said, grinning broadly. “What brings you in?”
“Celebrating my new position,” I said, smirking knowingly at Owen.
“New position?” my mom asked. “What new position? You’re not leaving the winery, are you?”
“Of course not,” I said, waving a hand. “The Chateau is stuckwith me forever.”
“It’s your legacy,” my father said, “so I would hope so.”
