20. Delia
Watching Owen in this sort of setting was…jarring, to say the least. I’d seen the man sweating through his tee at the job site, shirtless at the gym, in business casual at the office, and up to his shins in wine grapes.
This new one was disconcerting for the simple fact that it never ceased to amaze me how easily he slid into each role. Owen Lawless was a man of many talents, and it appeared that being a chameleon, shifting himself into whoever he needed to be for whatever he was doing at the moment, was one of them.
I wondered who he truly was beneath all that people-pleasing.
I wondered if he even knew.
Still, despite that smile he plastered on his face for Jalen and the other players he was shooting with, I didn’t miss the jealousy that flared in his eyes every time Jalen and I conversed.
I loved the thrill it sent through me.
While he filmed, I took the opportunity to get plans in place for that night. When he was done, we were running short on time if we wanted to head back to the hotel and freshen up before heading to Midtown.
As he approached me, lips flattened, brow furrowed, I said brightly, “You ready?”
“For what?” he asked, still scowling.
“The surprise I planned!”
“Delia…” he sighed, shoulders drooping. “I’m not really in the mood.”
“Please?” I begged. “It would mean a lot to me.”
That turquoise gaze collided with mine then, and I knew he’d say yes if only because he didn’t want to let me down. I hated that he felt that way, and I hated myself a little for using it to my advantage.
“Fine,” he said at last.
“Great!” I clapped, then grabbed his arm and pulled him away, throwing hasty goodbyes over our shoulders.
Ten minutes later, I deposited him outside his room.
“What am I supposed to wear?” he called after me as I retreated to my own.
“Whatever you want.”
“Birthday suit,” he said with a nod. “Got it.”
“Owen!” I hollered back with a giggle. “Jeans. T-shirt. Your boots. Pretty much exactly what you’ve got on.”
With a mock salute, he disappeared behind his door.
I hadn’t packed much that would work for tonight, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with jeans, a white baby tee, an oversized denim jacket, and my white Nikes. I quickly touched up my makeup and pulled half of my hair up into a twist atop my head, leaving the rest straight down my back. With my fingers and lobes decorated with gold jewelry, I was as ready as I’d ever be.
After a final twirl in the mirror, a knock came at my door.
“Coming!” I yelled, rushing across the room to let Owen in.
“I’m disappointed you yelled that fully clothed with a door between us, Whiskey,” he said when he pushed inside. “I’d rather you be screaming it for different reasons.”
I blushed, dipping my head, my hair curtaining me momentarily from his view while I collected myself. He only chuckled and said, “You ready?”
“Yep!” I said, turning from him to grab my purse and phone.
“You going to tell me where we’re going yet?”
“Nope.” We moved down the hall and stepped into the elevator just as my phone dinged with an incoming message that our Uber had arrived.
As we approached our destination, I directed our driver to pull around toward the back of the building.
“Whiskey…” Owen breathed when we pulled up.
I grinned wider. “You ready for this?”
“How did you pull this off?” he asked as we got out of the car, craning his neck to marvel at the historic venue before us. “Aren’t Original Six matchups always sold out?”
“They sure are. Lucky for you, I know people,” I said with a wink, then grabbed his hand and towed him to the back security entrance of Madison Square Garden.
I happened to be scrolling through Instagram earlier when I discovered the Detroit Warriors were in town taking on the New York Lakers. Immediately, I texted Berkley Jean, formerly Daniels, asking if she was in the city. Her husband, Brent Jean, was the star of the Warriors’ team. As it turned out, she was, and she left me and Owen suite-level access passes at the door we were about to step through.
After making it through security, we were directed toward an elevator that shot us up to suite level. I’d been to Warriors’ games in Detroit before, so this sort of treatment was nothing new to me. Owen, however, Mr. Former Pro QB, had his eyes comically wide, drinking in every new sight as we stepped off the elevator and headed down the hall toward the suite.
When we pushed through the door, there was barely a heartbeat of time for me to get my bearings before someone tackled me in a hug, knocking me backward into Owen.
“Lia!” the voice squealed. A voice I knew well.
I pulled away, eyes darting across the face of my eldest sister, Chloe.
“Coco!” I squeaked in return. “What are you doing here?”
“Berkley asked if Logan and I wanted to take a weekend trip!” she said. “What are you doing here? Did I know you were traveling?”
I snorted. “Since I didn’t know you were traveling, do you really need to ask that?”
“Fair enough,” my sister said with a wide grin. “God, it’s so good to see you! I feel like we haven’t talked in months.”
I rolled my eyes. Chloe, the novelist, was the queen of over-exaggerating. “We literally talk every day.”
“But not in person,” she protested. “I miss you.”
I pulled her in for another hug, squeezing her tighter. “I miss you more,” I whispered against her hair.
Behind me, a throat cleared, and I pulled away from Chloe to turn and give Owen a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, QB,” I said, moving deeper into the suite so he wasn’t standing awkwardly in the doorway. “I wasn’t expecting her to be here.”
“It’s okay, Whiskey,” he said, tone low but a wide smile on his face. He looked over my shoulder and added, “Nice to see you again, Chloe.”
“You as well, Owen. Come in, meet everyone!”
“Everyone?” I asked, dubiously. “You mean Berkley and Brent’s family?”
“There are a few other people here too,” Chloe said, gripping my hand and pulling me toward the wall of glass looking out over the arena.
Below, the teams were on the ice for warmups, circling endlessly around their own zones, taking shots on net. Some were stretching along the boards, feet kicked up on the half wall at the benches, or down on all fours, rolling their hips to warm up their hamstrings and quads.
Crowded along the exterior wall of the suite was an impressive group of people. It wasn’t difficult to determine which two were Brent’s parents, both dark-haired and blue-eyed, his dad tall and broad-shouldered like his son. Nearby, beneath the heads and shoulders of people gathered around her, I could see the top of Berkley’s blonde head. Nearby stood a tall brunette woman, a baby in her arms, a hulking blond man standing at her side. Then there was my brother-in-law, a Warriors cap settled on his head, bright blue eyes and wide grin trained on me.
“Little sis!” Logan said, pushing through the crowd to scoop me into a hug. “Good to see you! ”
“Hey!” someone—I assumed Berkley—yelled from behind him.
“You’re my little sis too, Berk,” he said back.
“Obviously,” she replied, eye roll evident in her tone.
I couldn’t help but laugh, loving this extended family like it was my own. They were equally as crazy as mine, and loved each other as fiercely.
When the crowd parted to reveal our arrival, Berkley let out a yelp of excitement, unceremoniously shoving her nearly two-year-old son, Brooks, into her father-in-law’s arms before rushing over to wrap me in a hug.
Owing to the fact that she was only a few inches over five feet, Berkley’s face wound up smooshed against my chest, but I didn’t mind. The girl had always given the best hugs, and now that her brother was my brother-in-law, she was even more like family than she and the rest of the Daniels clan had been growing up. Only a year older than me, she had graduated high school with Amara.
“How are you?” I asked when we broke apart. “I see Brooks, but where’s Bentley?”
Berkley turned and pointed at the brunette with the baby I’d clocked earlier. “With his auntie. Lexie!” The woman lifted her head, hazel eyes locking on mine, cool and assessing.
Damn, she was stunning. Tall and thin, similar in stature and complexion to me and Chloe. Honestly, she could have passed for a sixth Delatou sister.
I didn’t know what it was, but I liked her instantly.
With confident, unhurried steps, Lexie approached us, the blond man trailing after her. When she reached us, she handed the sleeping baby Bentley to his mother.
“Delia, this is my best friend, Lexie,” Berkley said, tucking her youngest son against her shoulder and absently rubbing circles along his back. His little cheeks were squished against a set of noise-cancelling ear muffs, long, dark eyelashes fanned across them. Then she gestured to the man. “And this is her husband, Mitch.”
“You used to play for the Warriors,” Owen said. “Didn’t you?”
Mitch nodded, and Owen stuck his hand out. “Owen Lawless,” he said when Mitch grasped it. “I played for the—”
“Mustangs,” Mitch finished. “I remember.”
“Shame about your back,” Owen told him.
“And your shoulder,” Mitch replied, offering him a commiserative smile.
Berkley and Lexie simply nodded, and it seemed everyone knew what they were talking about but me. I made a mental note to ask Owen about it later.
“It all worked out in the end.”
Mitch hooked his arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her back against him. “It sure did.”
Owen glanced at me then, and while I couldn’t decipher the emotion swimming in his eyes, I knew it had everything to do with the couple in front of us, and how obviously in love they were. In fact, we were surrounded by happy couples—Berkley’s babies the evidence of hers while her husband was on the ice—and I couldn’t ignore the desire that surged within me.
Desire for that same happiness. Desire for a family of my own.
Desire for Owen .
The only problem was finding a way to make myself believe I deserved it all with him.
The Warriors beat the Lakers by a score of two to one, Brent having scored the game-winning goal. Afterward, Brent, Berkley, Lexie, Mitch, Chloe, Logan, Owen, and I went out to a swanky bar uptown, a place Brent and Berkley assured us would be perfect inspiration for the distillery, while Brent’s parents took their boys back to the hotel. It was strange to be going out on what was essentially a quadruple date without actually being in a relationship, but I didn’t protest. I liked the way Owen tucked me into his side in the giant SUV that delivered us to the bar, and how he grabbed my hand after helping me out, lacing our fingers together as we followed my friends inside. His touches came more freely these days, as though he was doing everything in his power to convince me taking a chance on us was a good idea.
And it wasn’t that I thought it wasn’t. It was more…that twenty-two year old girl inside me who’d had her heart shredded by an older man, one who only wanted me for one thing, was having difficulty now, at twenty-seven, putting myself in that position again.
Owen wasn’t that douchebag professor; I knew that. But that was the first and last time I’d truly been in an “adult” relationship, and I struggled to give anyone the power to hurt me. I’d barricaded myself behind steel reinforced walls for the last five years, and it was going to take some time to tear them down .
But all thoughts of Owen flew out of my mind the moment we walked into the bar. An audible gasp left me as I took in the space around us, pausing right inside the door to spin in a slow circle, soaking everything in.
The walls were paneled to look like logs, the bar top and tables all smoothly sanded and sealed light wooden slabs—birch, if I had to guess—the floor a bronzy poured concrete. The more earthy touches were balanced by multiple crystal chandeliers hanging at regular intervals, plush, burgundy velvet couches, and mahogany leather chairs with brass studding details. Soft jazz music played in the background as patrons conversed quietly.
It was exactly the vibe I was going for with Unlawful: rustic elegance.
As I withdrew my phone to start taking pictures and videos, not wanting to forget a single thing about the space, a hand settled on my lower back and a low voice met my ear, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin.
“Do you want me to buy this entire building, pick it up, and move it to Michigan?”
I scoffed, tipping my head back into Owen’s shoulder to glare up at him. “Absolutely not.”
“I could, you know.”
“I know you could ,” I told him. “But Unlawful is going to be much better than this.”
“And how is that?”
“Because it’s ours.”
Owen grinned, his palm sliding around to my hip as I turned into him.
My god, he was beautiful. Staring into his eyes right then, I couldn’t think of a single damn reason why I was fighting this. My tongue dipped out to trace my bottom lip, and Owen followed the movement, his eyes turning stormy in an instant. His nostrils flared, head tilting slightly, angling toward me—
“Get a room!” someone yelled, and I jumped away from him like I’d been burned, my cheeks heating as my sister’s cackle floated past us.
“That was close,” I breathed as I moved away from him, hoping it was too low for him to hear.
His hand shot out and locked on my wrist, and though I didn’t want to, knew any prolonged eye contact would destroy my resolve, I met his gaze anyway.
“This isn’t over,” he growled.
“Of course not,” I grumbled as he led us to the table where the rest of our party waited.
“About time you join us,” Logan smirked when we sat in the two remaining seats; I wound up sandwiched between Owen and Berkley.
“I was taking pictures for inspiration,” I protested weakly.
“Right, little sister,” Chloe said from across the table, winking. “That’s exactly what it looked like. The last time a man looked at me like that”—she shot her husband a sly smile then settled a hand on the swell of her abdomen—“I wound up pregnant.”
Hoots and hollers rose from the rest of our group, but Owen and I weren’t laughing. Yet again, my face flamed. I wasn’t embarrassed about the prospect of being with Owen, or of him in general. I’d be stupid to be ashamed of a man like him, who had nothing but light and goodness at his core. I was embarrassed that these people were making assumptions about something that Owen and I had yet to figure out ourselves. I didn’t like having my private business publicly examined, and I knew Owen’s experience as an athlete had turned him into even more of a recluse than myself where his personal life was concerned.
Thankfully, before I could argue further, a waiter appeared at our table, taking drink—virgin for Chloe—and appetizer orders. When he left, the conversation moved on to something else, and I turned my attention inward, unable to stop marveling at this space.
Once the initial discomfort over Logan and Chloe calling me and Owen out wore off, our evening passed smoothly, full of stories and laughter, good food, and excellent drinks. When we’d finished eating, Brent suggested we head to the rooftop bar for a nightcap, assuring us that, despite the November chill, it would be toasty thanks to numerous outdoor space heaters.
Even if it had been freezing, I would’ve wanted to see it simply for the view it offered. Manhattan spread out beneath us, a sea of glittering lights like the sky above us was reflected in the city. I remained at the railing alone, and a moment later, my sister, Berkley, and Lexie approached. Chloe handed me a margarita and inclined her head to a nearby conversational grouping, where four rolled arm chairs were angled toward a small glass table.
My sister wasted no time interrogating me once we’d taken our seats.
“What is going on with you and Owen, Lia?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, which wasn’t entirely a lie but also not the whole truth.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Lexie said. “And that’s coming from someone who knows nothing about either of you beyond what I’ve learned in the last few hours.”
Ignoring both her and my sister, I looked at Berkley.
“How did you do it?” I asked quietly.
I knew about Berkley’s past. We were from a small town, after all. Had gone to high school together. I knew about her ex, and the way he’d manipulated, cheated on, then ultimately broke up with her when she questioned his loyalty. I felt a kinship with her in that regard, to have our first serious relationships betray us so deeply. But she was beyond happy now, and I wanted that for myself.
“It’s easy to be brave with the right one,” she said softly, giving me a little shrug and a smile, though the latter was directed across the rooftop at her husband, who stood with the three other guys, conversing.
“But what if he’s not?”
“You won’t know unless you try,” Chloe said, reaching out to settle her hand atop mine, her touch instantly grounding me.
“I know I don’t know you, Delia, but speaking from experience”—Lexie glanced over at her own husband, who looked up at the same moment and shot her a wink—“I fought it for a long time with him—”
“Too long,” Berkley interrupted on a fake cough into her fist.
“—and in the end all I did was waste that time. I knew from the moment I met him he was the one. It just took a long time for my mind to catch up, for it to recognize that the person meant for me would take care of my heart if I gave it to him. Do you think Owen is that guy for you?”
“I don’t know. ”
“I think you do,” Lexie said, smiling faintly and inclining her head toward the guys. “I think you’ve known it all along.”
And when I glanced up at them again, Owen was already looking at me.