Page 66 of Pour Decisions
“I do,” I whispered.
“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”
“I don’t know if I can let myself go there. For a number of reasons, the least of which is that we’re partners. I’d never forgive myself if our business went up in flames because I couldn’t keep my proverbial dick in my pants.”
“That’s actually Owen’s job,” my sister said with a snort, and I swatted at her.
“You know what I mean, Mar. I just…the whole working together and fucking thing didn’t exactly work out for you and Cal. So who am I to think it would for me?”
“Working togetherandbeing together may not have worked out for me and Cal,” she said, nodding in agreement. “But being togetherdid. And you and Owen aren’t us. There’s a level of respect and collaboration between you two that Cal and I sorely lacked in the beginning, which was the root of all our problems.” She settled a hand on the small swell over her abdomen. “Even so, what I got in return is everything to me.”
“There’s also the fact that you’ve fucked him,” I blurted.
My sister pursed her lips, clearly unimpressed with my deflection. “Don’t use me as an excuse, Lia. If you want him, and he wants you, there’s nothing insurmountable stopping you from taking and running with the happiness you could find.”
The next day, I found myself at the job site, wanting to shoot some progress content and start measuring for furniture and artwork. Jay and his team had made impressive progress, with the entirety of the building framed in, trusses up and roof on, and walls insulated and ready for drywall. It was starting to look like a real business, and the thought of decorating had me giddy.
I was inside, after Jay instructed me to put on a hardhat and watch my step, standing in the middle of the cavernous space, spinning in a slow circle. Plans whirled in my head, thoughts of fabrics and textures, fixtures and paint, art and other tchotchkes. The door creaked open behind me just as I withdrew my tape measure, and I turned to find Owen striding toward me.
I couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across my face. “What’re you doing here?” I asked.
“Same as you,” he said, shrugging. “Checking on progress.” As if noticing it for the first time, he frowned at the tape measure in my hand. “What’re you up to?”
“Measuring for furniture,” I said. “I know there’s a lot of work to be done before we get to the staging part of the process, but I wanted to get a jumpstart on ordering. Think it would be okay if I just stored everything up here? I could pile it all up in the centerof the room and throw drop cloths over it or something.”
“Why not just use the barn? Wouldn’t it all be safer there?”
“Well, that’s family property.”
“And you don’t think your family would be okay with you storing stuff there?”
“I guess I never thought to ask.”
“They love you, Delia. I think they’ll be fine with it.”
I waved him off, not liking the way his words twisted up my insides. It was too early in the day for feelings talk.
“That reminds me,” I said. “I want to travel somewhere and do research. Check out different bars and get inspiration, you know? I was thinking Chicago, maybe.”
“Actually,” Owen said, “there’s something I wanted to run by you.”
“Okay…”
“I got asked to shoot a Super Bowl commercial and a print ad for a company I’ve worked with in the past, and I’ll have to go to New York for a few days. Why don’t you come with me?”
When I was firstdrafted, though my rookie contract and signing bonus amounted to more money than I’d ever seen in my lifetime, I’d taken on every opportunity I could to make extra. A lot of what I’d earned I sent home to my mom, helping her take care of my siblings as well as making sure the bills for the ranch were paid. My dad may have been gone, but I’d be damned if we lost the ranch too.
The first time I sent a payment home, in the form of a fat ass check, my mom called me and threw an absolute fit.
“You know I can’t accept this, Owen! This is your money!”
“Exactly,” I said, smiling at her over Skype. “It’smymoney to do whatever I want with, and Iwantto make sure the ranch doesn’t go under.”
“But five hundredthousanddollars!?” she protested.
“You do realize I signed a contract for over sixty-fivemillion, right, Mom? Including an additional seven million dollar signing bonus?”
“Over six years,” she quipped back. “You should save that. Invest. Buy a house.”
