Chapter 6 #3
So many people had told me we'd have problems working together. But no one had ever bothered to ask if I thought we would beforehand. "Nope."
"That was emphatic."
"So is our friendship. It went without saying it was worth a thousand successful businesses.
Working from that foundation, we built a business relationship that worked.
Didn't take that long actually." I pull out a stool and push it over to her.
She doesn't sit, just watches as I pull out another one for myself and slide onto it.
"We're all good at different things. And there are things some of us turned out to be better at than others.
And that's okay. But no one feels left out, no one feels taken advantage of.
Your brother, for example, is some weird savant when it comes to finding the right location.
Like he can sniff them out. Then he works with Anna, a real estate agent at EM Industries, to lock down the site.
Marcus and Hunter go in and do the fit-out.
Rhys helps with the hiring, takes care of the contracts and the lawyers.
Everything the rest of us would rather die than do.
And I run the bars once they're up and running.
We've pretty much got it down to a well-oiled machine at this point. "
She looks wistful as she listens. "That's nice. You guys are lucky to have found each other."
I nod. "I know."
She takes a deep breath and glances toward the archway leading into the bedrooms.
Classic sign of looking for an exit strategy.
But I'm not ready to give this up yet. This time with her. This feeling like she's slowly forgiving me, warming back up to me. Stopped hating me.
I've missed this. Missed just sitting talking to her.
Missed coming across her when we were hanging at the Rileys' and plopping down on the couch next to her and having a conversation about everything and nothing.
She never had trouble keeping up with us, didn't matter that we were older.
She was always sharp as a whip, could debate anything, running circles around us.
But it was more than that.
She wasn't just brains.
She was heart too.
And I could've had it all. Even for just a second.
"Anyway, I sh—"
"Wait." I slide down from my stool and jog over to the pantry, grab the pack of Tim Tams off the hidden shelf, run back out to her. "Look. I need you to do me a favour."
She cocks an eyebrow.
"I need you to stay." I drop the packet on the bench between us. "Don't make me eat this entire packet alone. My trainer will absolutely tear me a new one."
She looks at the Tim Tams. Then at me. There's a beat where she's deciding, I can see it, the small war going on in her mind.
So I do the only thing I can think of. I lift my shirt and pat my bare stomach. "Don't make me ruin these abs I worked so hard for."
She looks. Then laughs.
I open the packet before she changes her mind, throw away the outer wrapping so she knows I'm serious, that between the two of us, we're going to eat all eight double-coat Tim Tams in the packet.
"Welcome home, Lex Luthor," I say with a grin, and push it over to her.
She rolls her eyes but reaches out and takes one.
We eat in silence for a moment. Comfortable.
"Leon texted from Port Lincoln," she says. "Said the site's promising."
"We heard the same thing. With a photo of his hotel bathroom, of course."
"Ah, yes, for his bathroom review account," she says with an incredulous chuckle. "Do you know one of his posts got five million views?"
"'Know'? He made me link to it from all of the bars' social media accounts!
Because that's what screams 'Have your Hens Night here!
' — a man crouching next to a urinal with a clipboard.
He's got a whole rating system. Flushes out of ten.
He gave a pub in Gawler a 4.2 and they put 'as reviewed by Leon Riley' on their website.
Like he's the Michelin Guide. For bathrooms."
She spits out the tea she's just sipped, all over the kitchen island, then covers her mouth, still laughing, but also horrified.
"Well, I'm glad it wasn't my Silver Needle you were drinking. That would've been $50 worth!" I tease, grabbing the tea towel and wiping down the island. "Huh. Guess I didn't finish work that early after all. This is literally what I'd be doing if I was still at the bar."
She pokes her tongue out at me and grabs the other tea towel, wiping from the other end, meeting me in the middle. I take both towels and ditch them in the sink.
She takes another Tim Tam.
I look at her. The way she's settled onto a stool now, relaxed, biting into the chocolate biscuit. Mug loose in her hand. One foot tucked behind the other ankle. Messy bun so loose, tendrils of curly hair frame her whole face.
I should let her go to bed.
I don't.
"Can I ask you something?" I say.
She looks up, shrugs.
"What did you actually think it was going to be like?" I keep my voice easy. "Coming back, I mean."
She goes still.
I wait.
What if she mentions me as a reason she didn't want to ever come back.
What if she doesn't.