“I spilled a drink next to a candle.”
“You threw a bottle of alcohol at him.”
I try to keep my breezy shell of nonchalance intact, but it begins to crack as panic sets in. The damage wasn’t intentional. I didn’t mean to scare anyone. Throwing the bottle was more out of frustration than anything.
I stare at my hands folded in my lap. “He called me a sell out.”
“You can’t weaponize a beverage because some gap toothed fool from England called you a name.” She sinks into the chair behind her desk, her voice softening in a way I haven’t heard in forever. “Honey, why did you show up there anyway? We both know things between you two didn’t end well.”
I shrug.
Why did I go? It’s a loaded question.
Because I was in the area. Because I made sure my recording schedule and location would line up with his coastal tour dates.
Publicly confessing I lit the fire would be an easier feat than admitting I’d done something so completely desperate to be in the same vicinity as my ex. But he isn’t just another ex in my long line of failed flings. He’stheex. The one that, despite his imperfections, was supposed to work out. And somehow… he didn’t. I shouldn't be shocked I lost him. Sure, Callum could have been a better boyfriend, but I’m not void of blame either. Between work and my strict social schedule, I hardly had any time left for him. How could he not move on after that kind of neglect?
She heaves a sigh, flipping open her laptop and sliding on her blue blocker glasses. And just like that, my mother vanishes, and my manager is back. “Antonia, how do we spin this?”
Antonia scrolls her screen, shaking her head, her plum lips pinched in concentration.
Mom rolls her eyes, pulling out her phone and shoving to her feet. “Well, think of something. I need to make some calls.”
Part of me hopes she’s blowing things out of proportion—again—but deep down I know this time we can’t smile or pay or talk our way out of it. Things are royally screwed up, and there’s no one to blame but myself.
CHAPTER FIVE
DECKER
“I’mhappy for you two. I needed a little pick-me-up after the news about the restaurant.” I clap a hand down on my brother’s shoulder as his wife, Nora, rests her palms over her still-flat belly. “You guys will be great parents.”
Nora reaches out and places a hand over mine. “I’m so sorry. We know how excited you were about Gable’s. It’s a shame it happened, and to such a beautiful, historical place.” She shakes her head, sincere sadness overtaking her previous joy.
As much as I’d like to wallow about it and the fact that I just finished fantasizing about hiring someone to restore its vintage interior, redecorating a historical landmark and bringing it back to its—lucrative—former glory wasn’t my sole goal. It’s what an investment like that could do for the other aspirations I have, the ones that go beyond the 50-yard line and way past the end zone. It wasn’t just my retirement plan that burned up with Gable’s; it was the security it was meant to provide for a slew of castoff dogs, too. Ones who need more than just a little love and a warm bed, but medication, special food, the works. Gable’s was supposed to fund that dream for the long haul.
I suppose my hesitation did me a favor. I never pulled the trigger on the investment, and given its current state, I should bemore grateful than anything. My indecisiveness saved my butt and my wallet for once.
Nora’s smile trembles as she pushes her braids out of her deep brown eyes.Oh no.I will not have the pregnant lady crying on my account. I pat her hand. “The good thing is, I never had a chance to sign the papers.”
“But you said that was your retirement plan. What about the shelter?”
“The shelter will still happen. There will be more opportunities.” My face strains into a smile as I attempt to convince both Nora and myself that my dreams haven’t gone up in smoke.
It works because she smiles and returns to her spot at the counter next to my mom, where they graze on cheese and crackers.
I raise my beer to them both. “Restaurants are a dime a dozen, but it’s not every day my big bro becomes a dad.”
Ian grins at me, scratching beneath his full, dark beard. “We were all sure you’d beat me to it.”
“Just not as potent as you, I guess.” I laugh and sip my drink, grateful to be in the offseason and with my family all in one place. During football season, I hardly see Ian. At least not since he was traded from the Las Vegas Rollers to the Kentucky Miners five years ago. Las Vegas was fun to visit, and a short flight. Kentucky is quite the trek from California and a lot colder. I can understand why he keeps a second home a few blocks down from Mom.
He chugs his can, tossing it into the ill-placed trash bin nestled beside the island. It hits the edge of the beige laminate counter and bounces to the floor.
“No wonder you guys couldn’t clinch that win in the playoffs,” I tease.
“Decker!” Nora shoots me a disapproving look. “That game’s still off limits. It’s too fresh.”
“It’s been like six months,” I say.
