Chapter 22
OWEN
Another night of dreams filled with Thea. Her touch and laugh and smile. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through five more days of this torture.
I have a flight booked for Sunday night after Harrison and Addy’s goodbye brunch, but I’m hoping Thea will let me join her drive home instead.
Normally I’d avoid that drive at all costs, but time with Thea sounds incredible.
Hours of talking, learning more about her.
Us taking turns behind the wheel, never letting go of each other’s hands.
A hand clamps over my shoulder, jolting me from my daydream.
“A bit distracted there, big brother?” Harrison asks, his dimpled smile stretching across his face. “I called your name three times.”
“Sorry,” I say, scratching at the back of my neck.
“Thinking about a certain future sister-in-law of mine?” His brows bounce, and I shake my head at him. “Oh, come on. You still have feelings for her.”
“We’re just friends now.”
Only five more days of lying.
“Yeah, you saying my bride-to-be is afraid you’ll want to kiss her sister again screams ‘just friends.’”
I shove him but can’t hold in my laugh. “You’re the worst.”
I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm. “Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about the stuff I mentioned a couple days ago.”
Right. The business stuff. My head aches at the thought of the work this is going to create, but I can’t keep putting it off.
“Sure,” I say, “but we need to be quick. I’m supposed to meet Thea in the kitchen soon.”
I’ve mapped out what we’ll need to do to give Harrison and Addy the wedding cake they deserve.
We’ll bake the cakes and make the buttercream today.
Tomorrow, we’ll level, torte, and crumb-coat the cakes.
I smile at the thought of Thea, her curls piled on her head and her tongue peeking out between her lips as she saws the cake leveler back and forth.
Friday, while Thea’s doing stuff with Addy, I’ll add another coat of buttercream, getting that perfect texture.
Then Saturday morning, I’ll sneak Thea out of the bridal suite to help me stack and decorate the cakes.
Maybe I’ll even have time to sneak in a few kisses.
I follow Harrison into Camila’s office, my muscles tensed. I wonder which department he’ll want to move to now. Eventually, he’s going to run out. And when he does, will he leave Hayes completely? The thought makes me sick.
Harrison releases a breath as he sits behind Camila’s desk, then lifts his eyes to me. “I want to take on more of a leadership role at Hayes.”
My mouth falls open. Not where I thought he was going with this. “What?”
At my surprise, Harrison straightens his posture, the muscles in his neck tightening.
“Addy and I are building a life together, and I want to provide her with the stability she’s always wanted.
I’ve been at the company for three years now, and you became president after only one year.
I’m not saying I want to be co-president or anything—I’m not trying to step on your toes—but I think I deserve a bigger role. ”
I open and close my mouth a few times before I can find my words. “Yeah, I took the president role after a year, but I also worked there after school every day from fifteen on.”
His jaw ticks. “I’m learning, and I don’t think it’s fair to punish me because you and Mom never cared enough about my future with the company to let me work there in high school.”
To let him work? My hackles rise, but then a memory sneaks up on me.
Harrison, sixteen with braces and a face full of acne, asking if he could work at Hayes.
Twenty-four-year-old me, newly made president and so overwhelmed I could barely breathe, telling him to enjoy his time in high school, that there would be plenty of time for work.
I was trying to save him from living my life.
But in trying to keep him from having Hayes pushed on him, I took the choice away from him altogether.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and his brows pull together. “I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean to make you feel left out of the company, and I’m sure Mom didn’t either. Have you talked to her?”
He scoffs. “Mom and I don’t talk.” My brows pull together, and he scoffs again. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. I’m the spare. She doesn’t care what I do. Fuck, she’s more invested in your ex than in my fiancée.”
There’s a knot in the back of my throat, making it impossible to swallow or speak.
Was I so resentful of Mom that I didn’t even see how it was affecting Harrison?
He’s always been so happy-go-lucky, the most confident person in the room, so I assumed there was nothing to worry about. I should have paid more attention.
“Stop,” Harrison says, his voice strong.
“You’re beating yourself up. I’m not mad.
Really, I’ve done a lot of work on this, and I’ve realized I’m not responsible for Mom’s behavior.
All I can control is what I choose. The same applies to you.
I just want to think about what’s next. We’re co-owners of the company, and it’s about time we started acting like it. ”
I’m not sure what to say. He has a point, and I wish I could go back in time and give him the choice instead of assuming he wouldn’t want it either.
As much as I’d like to pass along some of the responsibility, this decision won’t just affect me.
Hundreds of people depend on Hayes for their livelihoods, and I’m not sold on the idea that he’ll stick around.
I think he’s more interested in the idea of our family company than the work itself, and we need consistent leadership.
Not someone who may decide on a whim that Hayes isn’t for him.
I roll my lips together. “I’m not saying no, but there’s a lot we’d need to talk about. Why don’t you focus on enjoying your honeymoon? We can talk more about it once you’re back.”
That’s the best I can do. I don’t want to call out his unreliable behavior during his wedding week. These are supposed to be the best days of his life. When he gets back, I’ll explain my hesitancy and we can work out what needs to be done to earn my trust.
Harrison’s shoulders droop. “Yeah. Sure. We’ll talk another time.”
A stone sinks in my gut at his devastated face, but he’s out of the room before I can say anything else.
Thea’s already in the kitchen when I arrive, fiddling around with some bowls I’d set out earlier. Her face breaks into a wide smile when she spots me, and some of the tension from my conversation with Harrison seeps out.
“Here I was thinking you were standing me up,” she says.
I reach her in a couple of steps, dipping my head to place a soft kiss on the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Never.”
Her breath stutters, and I kiss her again just to feel her shiver against me.
“You gonna put me to work or am I just here to look pretty?” she asks, leaning against the counter while I pull ingredients out of the refrigerator.
I slide a bowl of lemons in front of her and smack her ass. “Get to work zesting, smartass.”
“Yes, chef,” she says in her husky voice, and I have to reach down to adjust myself. That’s not what we need right now.
Addy gave me free reign on this. We settled on a lemon blueberry cake, relatively easy since Thea doesn’t have much experience, but still delicious.
Thea and I get to work, and she nails each task.
Yes, I give her the easiest jobs while I focus on the more complicated ones, but I love watching the way she lights up at every success—zested and juiced lemons, perfectly measured ingredients, everything combined as the mixer runs at a slow, steady speed.
I want to teach her more. Teach her everything.
To watch each time that disbelieving smile takes over her face.
To praise her so often and so thoroughly that the disbelief fades completely.
With the cakes baking in the oven, I move on to the blueberry reduction.
It’s soothing, combining the blueberries, lemon juice, sugar, and water in a saucepan, letting all my other worries fade as the creation takes over my focus.
Thea stands with her chin on my shoulder, watching every step in fascination.
“You lied to me,” she says, but her tone is good-natured.
I glance at her, then back at the pan. “You slander me. I’d never. Haven’t you heard? I’m the good cousin.”
“Do you think they’d all still consider you the good cousin if they knew you had sex in their closet?” she asks, moving so she’s leaning on the counter behind me.
A smile quirks my lips, but I don’t want to give in, addicted to the push and pull of our conversations. I love when she throws out comments like that, unashamed of what we did. “No one would believe you.”
“Oh, I have proof. You didn’t see the camera?”
“Damn,” I say, glancing over my shoulder, and her smile grows. “Did you at least get my good side?”
“They’re all good sides,” she says with a wink.
I’ve never had this before, this ease of conversation. With anyone, but especially with someone I was romantically interested in.
Everything with Thea is different. I don’t know if it’s because we got to know each other a bit that weekend when romance was off the table, or if it’s because she makes it so clear she enjoys my company, or if it’s just something about her that can’t be fully named. But I love it.
“Back to the lying,” she says, and when I scoff, I get rewarded with that low, warm laugh that’s becoming vital to my existence. “When we were talking in the vineyard, you told me you didn’t have a passion.”
My eyebrows draw together as I pull the reduction off the stove. “Because I don’t.”
She’s looking at me like I’m dense. When I shrug my shoulders, she gestures with both hands around her. “This. This is what I’m talking about.”
An incredulous laugh bursts out of me. “This is a hobby. Everyone should have hobbies.”
“Are you telling me if you had the option to spend every day in the kitchen, baking and developing new ideas, you wouldn’t take it?”