Page 74 of The Best I Never Had

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.”