Page 54 of Pour Decisions
“You okay, kiddo?” he asked softly against my hair.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
My sisters and I didn’t typically keep secrets from our parents. Sure, when something happened, we always told each otherbefore we told them, but our parents were normally apprised of whatever the situation not long after. In fact, in recent memory, the only time I could think of where we did withhold information was when Amara and Calvin started their…mutually beneficialsituation. And, of course, they were unaware of my college…escapades. Mostly because I was terrified Daddy would go scorched earth if he found out. So in that moment, I gave him the truthful response. I didn’t know if I was okay. My emotions were a swirling, confusing maelstrom. I couldn’t make sense of anything—and Owen wasn’t helping matters.
As though my thoughts had conjured him, when my father released me, holding me at arm’s length to study my face, my gaze collided with Owen’s over his shoulder.
At least he looked as nervous as I felt, with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets as he awkwardly lingered in the doorway.
In reality,Ishouldn’t be nervous at all. This wasmyfamily. My event. My home turf. He should be the one feeling like they’re walking into the lion’s den.
He must have been hiding out until I arrived, because at his appearance, an uproar from my family ensued. After my sisters passed me around for hugs and kisses on cheeks, Owen shuffled to my side.
“Hey, Whiskey,” he said softly.
“Hi,” I said, not bothering to hide the edge to my tone.
Before either of us could speak further, an arm looped through mine, and the blend of my mother’s signature perfume enveloped me.
“I wasn’t aware you were bringing a date, Delia,” she said as she leaned in to press a kiss to my cheek. “It’s good to see you,Owen.”
“You as well, Mrs. Delatou,” the man responded.
My mother giggled. Yes, actuallygiggledlike a goddamn school girl. It seemed even happily married, middle-aged women weren’t immune to the Owen Lawless charm.
“Please,” she said. “Call me Lena.”
Several beats too late, I grumbled, “He’s not my date.”
“Then why did you invite him?” my mom asked, a twinkle in her eye as she winked before striding away.
Because I desperately want it to be, I thought in the direction of her retreating form. Even knowing it was the worst idea for a multitude of reasons, I wanted Owen in bone-deep ways.
I just wasn’t sure I was allowed to have him.
On the far side of the barn, the rest of our group had gathered around an array of wooden buckets, the kind made to look like the bottom half of a wine or whiskey barrel. I knew without looking that each was layered with about a foot of red and white grapes. Soon, the barn would be filled with squeals and laughter as we sank our feet into them.
Before I could take a step to join them, Owen’s hand wrapped around my upper arm, holding me back.
I turned to face him. “What?”
Owen frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For this morning. I made things weird with my fishnets comment and running away after. I just…I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“With what exactly?” I asked, though I could already guess the answer.
“You.”
“Join the club.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Technically,” I corrected, “nothinghashappened.” I didn’t tack onyet, but I wanted to. The word hung in the air between us anyway.
Owen gave me a pleading look. “You know what I mean.”
“We can ignore it if that’s what you want,” I said, though the words were barbed wire scraping my throat as they left my mouth.
“And what doyouwant?” he asked.
