Decker watches, not a word leaving his lips as he grips his lowball glass. My nose stings, and my eyes grow hazy with booze and unshed tears. He sighs, chewing his lip as he scans the room before leaning forward and grabbing my hand. I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassment heating my face when two tears trickle down my cheeks. Great. Just what I need. Here I am, sitting in the presence of this oaf, drunk-crying my dumb little eyes out.
Could this week get any worse? Not only have I committed what I assume Antonia and my mom would consider a cardinal sin—confessed the cause of the fire—but I jumped the gun. I made a choice without them, and here I am, getting shot down for a fake relationship by some man I never wanted to associate with in the first place.
Decker shifts in his seat, glancing around the room and awkwardly patting my hand. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”
“Okay? I burned down half your restaurant.” I dab my cheeks, a little wail slipping from my lips.
He hunches forward, lowering his voice. “Can you keep it down?”
I snuffle.
“You charred a single wall, and it wasn’t mine,” he says, straightening back up.
“Not yet.”
“There are other investment opportunities. I’m just glad I hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe I need to look into something else.”
“Like what?” I sniff.
“I don’t know. I didn’t really have a backup plan.” He lets out a bitter laugh as he brings his drink to his lips. “If it makes you feel better, you can pay me back.”
I pull my hand from his. “Look, I know it’s common knowledge that I’ve amassed a little bit of wealth over the years, but I don’t know if I can get my team on board with?—”
“No. Not money. This.” He gestures between us. “Lena, I know I don’t have to tell you this, but being seen with you is never a bad thing. Everything you touch turns to gold.”
I dab my cheeks with my napkin, taking a deep breath as I listen to him.
“So, if anything—” he leans back, his hands out to the side as though he’s having some major revelation— “I’m all in. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”
“Ugh. I’m immediately writing that out of our rules. Don’t scratch my back.”
He smirks and leans forward. “Anything for you,babe.”
CHAPTER NINE
DECKER
“How was your date?”Ian asks, his wiry beard consuming the edges of his smile.
I bite back a grin as last night resurfaces in my mind. How upset Lena was when she essentially confessed to a felony. How good she’d make an orange jumpsuit look despite her protests. Honestly, it’s not something I’m proud of, but I’ve seen a lot of girls cry, and somehow Lena still made it look good. Even if she did burn down my prospective retirement plan. Last night was weird and productive, and I’m still trying to convince myself it was real. If it weren’t for the headache I accrued from all those drinks, I’m not sure I’d believe it happened.
The August sun is relentless as we cross our mom’s backyard. I take stock of the sun-bleached patio furniture she’s had since I was in grade school and the fence she zip tied together five years ago. Despite both of our offers, she won’t allow us to invest anything in it. She’s stubborn to a fault, and this backyard proves it. I only hope she gets over the whole “stop trying to buy me stuff” thing by the time she’s retirement age.
“Fantasizing about Lena? I asked you how your date was,” Ian repeats.
I elbow my brother hard, handing him the keys to mom’s shed. “It wasn’t a date.”
He laughs. “That’s not what everyone is saying.”
“And you of all people are listening to rumors plastered all over social media?” I shake my head. “I’m disappointed in you. Mom would be too if she could hear you.” I take a deep breath. “Just let me be the one to tell her I’m hanging out with someone again.”
“Oh, she already knows. Saw it online this morning.” He bugs his eyes. “She thought you were done messing around with your personal life, and then you pick Lena Lux to date?”
I can’t keep the scowl from my face. “What’s wrong with Lena?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask one of her hundred exes?”
Something about that sends a blitz of irritation through my core. Whether it’s for Lena or me, I’m not sure. Maybe for us both, for always being labeled as one thing or another. Who’s to say she’s what everyone assumes she is? I know I’m not.
