Page 89 of Love Lessons

“Don’t let me leave here without a to-go order of biscuits and gravy for Sarah,” Owen said, speaking over the Van Morrison song playing overhead. “I promised her I wouldn’t forget.”

Biscuits and gravy sounded like a good idea. That’s what I ordered, and as Owen talked to our server, I pulled out my phone to send Kendall a quick text.

Mason: “Brown Eyed Girl” is playing here and all I can think about is you

She’d probably heard that from a dozen other men—maybe even the one sitting across from me now. I tried not to think about it. If I was going to work alongside Owen, I’d have to stop imagining him with Kendall like this. A lot of questions about them lingered in the back of my mind, but I was afraid asking would annoy her. So I never did.

“You know our moms worked here together back in the day?” Owen asked before taking a sip from a little white coffee mug.

“Oh, I’ve heard all the stories.” I shook my head. “My mom always says she was pissed at Michelle because she had to do everything she did.”

“And now look at them. I swear they have a two-hour phone conversation every single day.”

“Yup. ‘What do you want? I’m on the phone with Michelle!’” I said in my best Christine voice—I’d perfected it so well, it almost made Owen spit out his coffee. “You’d think they’d run out of shit to talk about.”

“There’s never a shortage of family gossip.” Owen said with a laugh, reaching for the messenger bag in the seat beside him. I rested my arms on the table, observing him pull out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat as he skimmed the document before looking up to say, “All right, you had your proposal for me last week. Now it’s my turn.”

I held my breath as he slid the paper across the table toward me, exhaling when I saw the words ‘EMPLOYMENT OFFER’ at the top. And below that, in a smaller font—CREATIVE DIRECTOR.

He’d included a list outlining the job duties seemingly related to the projects we’d discussed and all the included job benefits, but the words blurred together as my thoughts circled around the job title he was offering me. I hadn’t asked for that, and “director” felt like too much. I opened my mouth to say something, but then I saw my proposed salary at the bottom. It was close to my earnings at the publishing house—suspiciously so—and more than I had imagined Owen could afford to pay me.

I was ready to protest all of this and tell him he was offering too much, but I could hear Kendall in my head reminding me Owen was no idiot and I wasn’t forcing him to do any of this. While every instinct I had was telling me to reject his offer, I forced myself to graciously accept. “Fuck, Owen.”

Okay, maybe not that graciously.

“So what do you say? Do I get to work with my baby cousin?”

“Not if you call me that,” I joked. I paused to take a sip of coffee to bide myself time to collect my thoughts. “This sounds incredible, man. I mean, you’ve pretty much just outlined my dream job for me on this sheet.”

“Yeah?” He crossed his arms against his chest. “And just so you know, everything on that list will change and evolve over time, especially as you get more and more comfortable taking control of certain things.”

“Owen, I don’t—” I stopped, taking a deep breath. I’d almost let my self-doubt spill out, and while I was sure Owen could tell from my body language I was nervous as hell, I was trying my best to appear cool. “Well—just—thank you. I accept.”

“I should be the one thanking you. I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am about this. We—Sarah and I—have already been carving out a workspace for you in my office. Of course, you’re welcome to work remote instead, if that’s what you—”

“No,” I interrupted. “I’ll share digs with you. Probably be easier to brainstorm that way, and it beats being alone all the damn time.”

“Exactly.” When our food arrived, we stopped talking for a couple of minutes so we could eat. My mind wandered, envisioning all the ways this new job would change my day-to-day life. My hands were shaking as I ate, and I couldn’t wait to tell Kendall and Finley.

Owen explained he wanted to wait until the first of December for me to start, since he was getting married over Thanksgiving weekend. That gave me time to wrap things up with my current clients, anyway.

After we finished, Owen paid for our breakfast and hugged me goodbye on the sidewalk in front of the diner. “I guess the next time I see you will be my bachelor party, cousin,” he said, slapping me on the back.

“Sounds good, boss.”

**

Finley seemed tired and cranky when I picked her up, yanking her shoes and socks off in the car. She pulled her hair out of the braid I’d spent twenty minutes on that morning, too, looking out her window with a sigh. “What’s wrong, Fin?”

“I just want to go home.”

“Me too. Hey—guess what?” I looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You know how Owen does all the science stuff with the podcast and the videos and books and everything? I’m going to start working with him.”

She was silent. I’d expected at least some kind of reaction or response, but she just sighed some more.

“We’ll probably be able to get our own house next year, kiddo.”

Still nothing. Maybe she was just too tired. I decided to let her relax the rest of the way home. But as soon as I turned the music back up, I heard her say my name from the backseat. “Daddy?”

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