Page 10 of Could Have Been Us
She grins. “You always were a gentleman.”
“Is that what they say?”
“No, they say you’re an idiot.”
I laugh, the first real one in three days. “They’re not wrong.”
“Jack . . .”
“Yes?”
The emotions filter across her face as she struggles with her thoughts. “Is . . . are you . . . ugh, I don’t know why I’m hesitating to ask you, but here it is . . . is there something with you and Winnie?”
Now I’m stunned. “Winnie? As in Jess’s little sister?”
She raises a brow. “Do you know another Winnie?”
I shift in my seat. “No, and to answer your question, also no. I don’t have feelings for Winnie. She’s . . .”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess she is.”
“Well, she’s single, and you’re single.”
Wait, is she trying to set me up with Winnie Walker? “Deals, are you serious right now?”
Delia tilts her head with wide eyes. “Duh. You’re getting on in age, Jack. It’s time to settle down, and Winnie is a catch.”
“I’m thirty-four. She’s turning thirty this year.”
“And I’m thirty-two. I’m glad we’re all aware of our ages. My point is that she’s young and pretty and has a great job. She laughs at yourawfuljokes. Plus, young is good, right? You’ll have someone to change your diapers when you’re ancient and decrepit.”
“You can change my diapers.”
She laughs. “Ha! I will be single forever.”
“Because you’re unwilling to let go of Josh.”
Delia doesn’t deny it. And, honestly, I shouldn’t judge. I’m the same fucking way. It’s Friday night, and I’m at a bar with a letter burning a hole in my pocket because Stella reminded me of it all.
It’s true what they say, I really am an idiot.
Chapter 4
Stella
Being a Parkerson means weathering disasters and cleaning up messes that others make. Mostly, my father’s messes.
“I have to go,” Grayson says as he tosses things into a bag.
“I get it, but why you? Why the hell aren’t you telling Dad to fuck off?”
He sighs. “Because Oliver asked me to come, that’s why.”
“Oh, because once again, Dad fucks up and we’re stuck doing damage control.”
Apparently, there’s a problem at our Wyoming Inn, which isn’t even fully operational. My father bought it—without talking to anyone—and pushed Oliver to go out there to make it worthy of the Parkerson name.
