Page 110 of Pour Decisions
The Delatou family was certifiably crazy, but they weren’tso different from mine. A mass of children, the female counterparts to my nearly all-male one. Parents who loved fiercely. Significant others who would burn the world down if it would make their girl happy.
Yeah, I fit in perfectly around here.
I dipped my head and captured her mouth with mine. Against her lips I said, “I love you, Whiskey, and they’re part of the package.”
With a wide grin, she kissed me back, whispering, “Good answer. And I love you too.”
The two weeks followingThanksgiving came and went in a flash, though I knew exactly where all that time went. I spent every waking moment at the distillery, getting everything ready for the big day.
Suddenly, it was three days before our soft opening party, of which my mother had taken the reins and turned it into something far more upscale than the chips and dip I’d planned on.
Though Owen seemed at peace with the fact that no one from his family would be here to celebrate with us, I simply couldn’t let it go.
Which is how I found myself on the phone Wednesday morning, waiting for the call to his mother to connect. It was a rare day when Owen and I hadn’t lingered in bed. He’d run into the city to take care of his woefully neglected businesses there after a stern phone call from Hugo, and I needed to edit and upload some content for various businesses in town. I used it as my opportunity to hopefully pull together this surprise for him.
My hands were sweating so badly I could barely keep my grip on my phone, so I pulled it from my ear, tapped the speaker button, and set it on the counter.
“Hello?”
“H-hi,” I said shakily. “Is this Mrs. Lawless?”
The woman chuckled. “Yes, this is Brigid. Who am I speaking with?”
“Oh, this is Delia Delatou, ma’am,” I said quickly. “I’m Owen’s…”
I trailed off, unsure how to label myself. I mean, he and I had settled on the standard boyfriend/girlfriend labels, but I had no idea if he’d told his mother about us.
“His girlfriend,” she breathed, and I sighed in relief. “Oh my, it’s so wonderful to hear from you, Delia. I’ve heard so much about you from Owen. And in that case, you can call me Birdie.”
“All good things I hope,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“The best,” she assured me. “He’s been talking about you nonstop for months.”
I perked up at that, wanting his mom to spill all the tea. “Months, you say?”
“He’s really enjoyed working with you,” Birdie said. “Though it was easy enough to tell when things changed for him. The way he spoke about you shifted from the respect of a business partner to the romantic kind of admiration.”
“When was that?” I asked, unable to help myself.
For me, that moment had happened that night in his office, when he first told me his father was gone, and I witnessed the absolute pain and devastation on his face. Though he’d tried so hard to keep it locked up and hidden from me,those kinds of raw emotional wounds weren’t so easy to pack away, and it had been plainly written on every line of his body.
A fierce desire to protect him surged within me that night, and even though we hadn’t gotten together for another month after that, I somehow knew we’d always end up here—even when I was fighting it, even when I’d thought it was the worst damn idea either of us had ever had.
“Oh, sometime in early October,” Birdie said. “He called to tell me about that asshat that had caused a scene at the club, and told me how you were there. I guess being his mother, I just knew things were changing between you.”
The same damn night.
“I know the one,” I said. “I guess we both felt the shift that night.”
I sniffled, tears burning my nose with this new knowledge, and she allowed me a moment of silence to collect myself.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him like this. Sure, Owen has always been a caretaker, especially after his dad died. He took it upon himself to keep us from ruin that first year while we were all still figuring out life without him. But even before then, he’d spent his whole life acting as a third parent to his siblings. So it’s nice that, with you, he’s finally doing something for himself.”
The tears fell freely now.
“He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met,” I said, my words watery. “You raised him well.”
“Thank you, honey,” Birdie said. “He’s lucky to have you.”
