Page 72 of Perfect Pairing
Maybe then we wouldn’t have spent the last two years apart.
I deeply regretted my cowardice. I was an adult capable of compromising and juggling multiple priorities. The fact that I’d turned away the most impressive and stunning woman I’d ever known because I was afraid of how it would affect my ability to parent wasn’t something I could ever forgive myself for. I’d spent every waking minute of the last three years hating myself for it.
Brie deserved better than that—better than me.
But…I was reaching the point where living without her wasdoing me more harm than good. The what-ifs were eating me alive, keeping me up at night, wondering how different my life would look if I had her by my side.
Anytime I found myself in her vicinity was pure torture, especially when all I wanted to do was wrap her in my arms and claim her once again. The fucking cake batter scent of her skin drove me insane, had my stomach hollowing out like I hadn’t eaten in days and the only thing that would satisfy me was her body on mine.
I’d royally fucked up, and it was about damn time I did something about it.
Leon left it up to me to order wine for the table, so I requested the Chateau Delatou Cabernet, which was my personal favorite of the winery’s offerings. When the waiter reappeared with several bottles, they were passed around the table. Glasses filled as chatter filtered through the air. Across from me, Alfie and Leon got into an argument when he made some annoying comment about ordering a bottle produced by another winery. Leon quickly put him in his place, only for Alfie to turn and have Owen ready to chew him a new ass both for complaining and for making some comment to Delia I missed in the commotion.
I hadn’t spent much time around Alfie, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty: if Hansen grew up to be anything like him, I’d consider myself a failure as a father.
Another certainty was Owen was so gone for the middle Delatou girl, and as I glanced at Brie out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help thinking that I knew the feeling all too well.
At least Delia wasn’t inclined to hate him like Brie did me.
Next to me, she sipped her wine and made a sound of disgust. “Too dry,” she said, and I held back a chuckle.
“Excuse you, young lady,” Leon said. “I worked very hard to perfect that blend.”
Under her breath, she said, “Should’ve tried harder.”
Leon’s eyes narrowed, and I knew he heard her.
“Watch it, Brie,” he said. “Take one more shot at my prized possession and I’ll take your bakery away.”
Leon Delatou was intimidating as shit and a shrewd businessman. I wouldn’t put it past him to make some crazy decision like that if he felt insulted.
But this was his daughter we were talking about—and his baby, no less. Not to mention, the bakery was wildly successful. And surrounded by his five daughters on all sides, as a parent myself, it was easy to recognize a stupid wine recipe was far from his pride and joy. Not with all of the amazing things his girls had accomplished so far in their lives. It had to be nothing but bluster.
When Brie gasped theatrically, I knew I was right.
“You can’t do that, Daddy,” she said cheekily, sticking her tongue out at her father. I resisted the urge to chuckle. “And you know it.”
“I can damn sure try.”
“You do, old man,” Brie started, pointing her father menacingly at him. Or as menacingly as she could, given we all knew she was far too sweet to ever do any real harm to anyone, least of all someone she loved. “And you’ll never taste my baklava again.”
Leon pounded his fist against his chest as though he’d been fatally wounded, and I finally released the laugh I’d been holding in.
This family was something else.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said.
Brie tipped her nose into the air and shrugged. “Fuck around and find out.”
“Brie!” Lena scolded as the rest of the table devolved into a fit of laughter.
Though I joined in, I found myself mesmerized by the woman next to me.
I knew, having heard it directly from her mouth, that she sometimes struggled to find a place in her family. As the youngest, she often felt overshadowed by the bigger personalities and successes of her sisters: Chloe, the writer; Amara, the CEO; Delia, the marketing whiz and influencer who used her time and knowledge to help local businesses expand their social media reach.
I think Ella was the only one she didn’t try to measure herself up against. As a free-spirit, Ella was content with her job at the flower shop, brightening people’s days through her, admittedly stunning, floral arrangements.
I loved seeing her like this, with her father deeply pained by the thought of never tasting one of her creations again, with her being vocal about her likes and dislikes. The easy way she slotted into her family that I wasn’t sure she recognized.
