Page 35 of Pour Decisions (Stryker Family #3)

JD

I’ve never been unemployed in my entire working life.

And to be honest? It’s kind of nice at first. I do long, lazy workouts, read, and take Bubba for hikes. My house is spotless (though I never let it get that messy to begin with).

I ignore all of Dad’s calls and texts, particularly his questions about things going on at the company that I was in charge of. I do feel a bit guilty for fucking over my team, but they were fairly self-sufficient before.

But now I’m getting antsy and it’s only been a little over a week. I emailed Frank from June the Friday after Thanksgiving, asking if they need a consultant, and he’s been out of the office until today. I’ve been refreshing my email as I’ve been wrapping up this beef bourguignon for dinner.

“What smells heavenly?” Katrina says. Bubba leaps to his feet and runs to greet her as she comes in.

“Beef bourguignon,” I say.

“Fancy.” She appears in the doorway in her work clothes, smiling at me. I kiss her and pull her into a hug.

“How was your day?” I ask. After Thanksgiving, she decided to wait on talking to her mom until she could gather herself. I can see that weighing on her mind, so I scan her for a few extra seconds.

“Good. How was yours? Did Frank email you back?” she asks, peering into the Dutch oven.

“Not yet, but he just got back into the office. I did a few projects around the house in the meantime.”

“A few projects?” She looks around. “JD, it looks like a professional cleaner came in here. You know most people lay around and watch TV when they’re unemployed, right?”

“But now I have so much time to organize stuff around here,” I say, frowning.

She laughs, cupping my face. “Oh, JD. I hope Frank gets back to you. Otherwise I feel like the house is going to get redecorated by the New Year.”

We eat dinner together on the couch, watching some terrible history “documentary” that I fact check. Katrina finds it hilarious, so I don’t stop. After we’ve cleaned up, we curl up, my hands wandering over her body. But we just kiss, taking our time and enjoying it. I don’t feel the need to rush.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, killing the moment. But it’s my email.

“It’s Frank,” I say, opening the message. I let out a breath after I open the email and quickly read it.

Hope you had a nice holiday, his email opens. To be honest, I’m surprised, but pleased. Let’s meet for coffee to talk it over. I’ll come to Jepsen. We’d love to have you.

Being in downtown Jepsen in the middle of the day on a Tuesday feels odd these days, but I’m glad to see Frank. The café he chose isn’t busy, so I don’t feel as if people are eavesdropping on us. A waiter comes and takes our orders, disappearing and making our coffees himself.

“You look relaxed,” Frank says with a smile.

“I haven’t slept this much in a long time.” Maybe ever.

“So your decision to quit hasn’t been weighing on you too much?” Frank’s eyebrows go up.

“Mm.” I wish Bubba were here for support, but the café isn’t dog friendly. “It has been, actually. I left abruptly, which isn’t really something I do. But I haven’t had this much time off…ever, really.”

“Makes sense.” He nods. “Can I ask why you left so abruptly? Your plans for the future sounded so concrete, like they were a done deal.”

I blow out a breath through my nose. The memory of that day still stings just as badly as it did a week ago. The pain of losing respect for the man who I once wanted to be like has left an empty gap in who I am.

“My father and I just disagreed on some extremely fundamental parts of the business. Plus, like you said, working with family is hard.” I shrug. He nods, understanding. “But I miss the company itself. What we were doing and what we could have done.”

“That’s very different than how I felt. I was so tired of doing things my dad’s way that I was glad to leave the whole thing in the past,” he says.

“I wish I could have the company back without the baggage,” I admit. “But I’d love to continue to work in the industry with products like yours.”

“Smooth transition.” Frank laughs. “But I’m glad you reached out. We’d love to have you on as a consultant for a few things.”

We talk for a few hours about what they need, and by the end of it, Frank is sending an email to his HR person to draw up a consulting contract for me.

It’s a relief knowing I’ll have something to do, but it fills me with a strange ache.

They’re doing a lot of things I wanted to do with Stryker Liquors, but couldn’t. And now I never will.

I wish there were a way to have both, but there isn’t. But I have this new chapter to focus on instead.