“You’re welcome. You’ll figure this out. Whitney doesn’t strike me as the type to use defiance as a weapon.”
“She isn’t. She’s a good girl. I think she’s more . . . insecure than defiant.” I took a breath. “And I get that. God, do I get that.”
He rubbed my back but didn’t say anything.
“In fact, one of the reasons I was going to cancel tonight was because I felt like a huge hypocrite—how can I judge her for wanting to do things that make her feel beautiful? I drove through a blizzard last night in a red dress and heels just so you’d look at me that way. And want me that way. And . . . like me.”
He laughed a little. “I did like you, didn’t I?”
I nodded and smiled up at him. “You liked me three whole times.”
“And did those three likes make you feel better about yourself?”
“Immeasurably.” I snuggled into his chest again.
“Then try not to be too hard on her.” He kissed the top of my head. “Or on yourself. We’re all just stumbling our way through life, hoping to arrive at the right destination. If something makes you feel good on the way, why not do it?”
I thought about his words as he walked me home, as he bid me farewell with a chaste hug in case anyone happened to be watching, as I shed my layers of winter clothing and joined the kids and my parents in the family room. The movie was over, and they were playing a board game now. They invited me to play too, and even offered to start the game over, so I couldn’t say no.
But I kept thinking about Henry. I wished he were here. I could smell him on me. I heard his voice in my head . . . If something makes you feel good, why not do it?
It seemed like such a fearless attitude to have, and it made me think about the opposite too—if something makes you feel bad, why not stop it? For so long, I’d lived in fear of being abandoned, of being alone and having to start over, of failing. And I let that fear prevent me from leaving a marriage that not only didn’t fulfill me, but robbed me of joy, of confidence, of self-worth.
But those days were over.
We could bloom here, all of us. I could feel it.
In the back of my mind, that voice reminded me that part of the new start I’d envisioned for myself meant learning to be happy on my own, and this thing with Henry did not exactly mesh with that plan. Becoming dependent on Henry to validate my own self-worth wasn’t any better than what I was doing before, was it? And what made me think I could trust him?
But being with him made me feel so damn good.
And if something made you feel good, why not do it?
Fourteen
Henry
The next day, it was back to business as usual. I hit the gym early and got into work by nine, calling hello to Chloe at the tasting counter as I made my way down to the cellar. Now that the inn was open again, and I knew we’d be busy with tastings and tours all day—all week, actually.
My assistant, Mariela, was already in the lab, and I waved to her as I headed for my office. When I opened the door and saw my desk, all I could think of was Sylvia naked on it with my head between her legs. When I shut the door behind me, all I could think of was fucking her against it. When I tried to focus on the day ahead and what I had to get done, she refused to get out of my head. When I closed my eyes, I swore I could smell her skin.
I was sitting there in a stupor, staring at the surface of my desk and trying not to get an erection, when someone knocked on the door.
“Yeah?” I called, shifting in my seat.
Sylvia poked her head in and grinned. “Hi. I’m officially here working upstairs but I wanted to say good morning.”
“Good morning.” Her smile made it hard to breathe for a second. “You’ll be busy up there today.”
“Chloe says we’re totally booked. I’m a little nervous.”
“You’ll be great.”
“Thanks.” She gave me one last smile before disappearing, and a moment later, Mariela knocked on the open door.
“Hey. How was your Christmas?” she asked, leaning against the frame.
“Good. How about yours?”
“Great. Ready to get started filtering the riesling?”
I nodded, glad for the distraction. “Let’s do it.”
As predicted, the day was hectic in the winery—tons of guests coming in and out all day to look around, taste wine, purchase bottles to take home. Many of them wanted to chat with me, and I spent a good amount of time answering questions and explaining our process. Chloe and Sylvia were swamped at the counter, but every time I stole a glimpse of her, Sylvia had a huge smile on her beautiful face and was chatting away easily with customers, telling them about growing up on the farm, and talking about our wines. I couldn’t imagine how many bottles she’d sell by the end of the day.
At one point in the afternoon, I noticed Chloe was alone at the counter and wondered where Sylvia had gone. A little later, I checked my phone and found a text from her apologizing for leaving so fast and explaining that she had to check on the kids and take care of dinner at the house. At seven o’clock, I was back at my desk trying to clear out my email inbox when she appeared in my office doorway, a smile on her face. “Hi.”
My blood warmed. “Hey, you. Come on in.”
She wandered in, carrying her jacket in her arms. “Still working, huh?”
“Finishing up. How was your first day in the tasting room?”
“Chaotic, as promised—but good, I think. Chloe says we sold a ton of wine.”
“I believe it. I saw you working your magic up there. Who could resist you?”
She blushed at the compliment. “Stop it. I don’t have any magic.”
“I beg to differ.”
“And I’m sure I screwed up the notes Chloe gave me for each wine a million times. I need to memorize the whole fruit-forward versus savory, and full-bodied versus light-bodied, and tart finish versus bitter . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you guys have so much information in your heads!”
I smiled. “You’ll be a pro in no time.”
“Thanks. You were busy in the cellar too, huh?”
“We were.” I pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. “It was a lot of talking to people for a guy who mostly deals with grapes. My head is pounding.”
“I bet you probably haven’t eaten anything today.”
Had I? I couldn’t even recall. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t think I did.”
“Henry,” she scolded. “You need to eat.”
I shut my laptop. “I will. But first, shut the door and come talk to me. What were the kids up to today? The inn must have been slammed.”
She closed my office door and leaned back against it. “It was. My mom was crazy busy at reception. And we put the kids to work helping April set up for the New Year’s Eve party.”
“Hard to believe that’s tomorrow night already.”
“Yeah.” She stared at my desk for a moment, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s sort of insane that I was naked on your desk last night.”
“It is.” Swiveling in my chair to face her, I leaned back and put my hands behind my head. “But also awesome.”
She blushed, dropping her gaze to the coat in her arms. “Have you ever . . . done that before? On your desk, I mean?”
“Nope.”
“Me neither.” She met my eyes. “But I liked it.”
“Me too. I’d say we should give it another go right now, but I’m not sure the other employees here would appreciate the noise, even with the door shut.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, let’s save that for another day. I actually just came to invite you over to the house for dinner.”
I paused. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know. Are people going to think it’s strange?”
“What’s so strange about my inviting you for dinner? We’re
friends, aren’t we? And if you happen to feel like helping Keaton set up his telescope, even better.”
“Aha.” I grinned at her. “So dinner is just a bribe, huh?”
She batted her thick, dark lashes at me. “Maybe.”
“I don’t mind helping with the telescope. You don’t have to feed me.”
“I like feeding you. And I’ve seen your fridge. It’s sad.” She wrinkled her nose. “I bet you were just going to eat takeout for dinner, right?”
“You know me too well.”
“It’s also an excuse to be with you again.” Her cheeks went a little more pink and her lips curved into a soft, sexy smile. “I think I’ve got a crush on my teacher.”
Our eyes met, and the small room crackled with electricity. “Then come sit on his lap.”
She came toward me, laying her coat on the desk. I took her by the hips and pulled her onto my lap so she straddled my legs, her arms around my neck.
“If I come to dinner, can we sit like this at the table?” I asked, sliding my hands over her ass. My dick perked up at the unexpected proximity to its new favorite place.
She laughed. “No.”
I pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “Then fuck dinner.” Then I moved my mouth down the warm curve of her neck. “Let’s go back to my house and get naked.”
“Mmm, that is very tempting. But I think I’d be missed.”
“Damn it.” I stroked her throat with my tongue, tasting her skin. “I suppose I could try to behave during dinner.”
“Does that mean you’ll come?” she asked hopefully.
I exhaled and sat up straight again, knowing there was no way I could say no to her. And I really didn’t mind helping her son with the telescope. “Okay. I’ll come.”
“Are you ready now? Or do you need more time to finish up?”
“I need about ten minutes to send a couple emails and get rid of my erection.”
Laughing, she got to her feet. “Then I better get off your lap. Chloe is still closing up the tasting room, so I’ll give her a hand. Meet me up there?”
“Perfect.”
She gave me one last smile and moved toward the doorway, where she stopped and stared at the door I’d had her up against last night. “I’m surprised this thing isn’t dented. I’ve got a bruise on my back, you know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Peeking back at me over one shoulder, she asked, “Are you really?”
Unable to suppress a grin, I shook my head. “No. But I’ll take it easier on you next time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare.”
* * *
When I came upstairs, Chloe and Sylvia were chatting as they placed freshly washed and dried tasting glasses back on the shelves behind the counter.
“Are you coming to the party tomorrow night, Henry?” Chloe asked.
“I was planning on it,” I answered, pulling my coat on.
“You better,” Sylvia said. “I asked April to make sure we’re all at one table.”
“Is April bringing anyone?” Chloe asked, holding one last glass up to the light to make sure it was spotless.
“Not that I know of,” Sylvia answered. “She claims she’ll be too busy working to even sit down anyway.”
“That girl needs time off.” Chloe came out from behind the counter and headed for the employee room to grab her stuff. “She has no life.”
“I heard she’s interviewing someone after the holidays,” Sylvia said, picking up her coat from the back of a counter stool.
“I heard that too,” I said, taking the coat from her and holding it up so she could slip her arms in the sleeves. “It’s a friend of the owners at Abelard.”
Chloe came out of the break room, zipping her jacket, then slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Yes. Her name is Coco, and I’ve met her before. She’s perfect for the job. Let’s hope April realizes it.” When she looked up at us, she stopped short, as if surprised.
I took my hands off Sylvia’s coat.
“You sure you don’t want to come to Mom and Dad’s for dinner?” Sylvia asked, freeing her hair from her collar. “I convinced Henry to join us. And April’s coming over too.”
“Um, yeah. I’m sure. Oliver says he has dinner for us at home.” She was still looking at us a little strangely as she moved toward the door and switched off all the lights. “But I’ll see you guys in the morning. Have a good night.”
We went outside, and I locked the doors as Chloe trudged through the snowy parking lot toward her car. After making sure it started, Sylvia and I continued walking toward the house. Flurries fell slowly around us, and the night air was cold and silent.
“Did you have a chance to talk to Whitney yet?” I asked.
“No. I’m totally avoiding it.” She sighed, sticking her hands in her pockets. “I’m so bad. But I feel like as long as she’s spending time with the family and enjoying herself, that’s healthy, right? She had a smile on her face today—without the heavy makeup.”
“Sounds healthy to me.”
“Frannie gave me the name of a therapist Mack’s girls went to after their mom left. The office was closed by the time I called this afternoon, but I left a message, so hopefully she gets back to me fast.” She dragged her boots through the snow. “But still, I know I need to address the Instagram thing. Maybe I can do it later tonight.”
We went in the back door to the house, and as soon as we stepped into the mudroom off the kitchen, my mouth watered. “Wow, something smells good,” I said, shrugging off my jacket.
“Thanks. Hope you like Italian.”
“It’s my favorite.”
“Is it?” She took my coat and hung it on a hook before sitting on a bench to pull off her boots. “Good to know.”
“My parents were both Italian.” I took my boots off too, so I wouldn’t get the floor wet or dirty, and gave a quick prayer of thanks I was wearing new socks without any holes. “Neither was a hundred percent, but I’m more than half. I grew up eating a lot of Italian food.”
“Aha—so it’s in your blood.” She straightened my boots into a row along with everyone else’s. It was oddly touching somehow. “Sorry, it’s a mom thing. My kids just throw their stuff everywhere, and it drives me nuts. I’m surprised you didn’t learn to cook, having two Italian parents,” she said as we walked into the kitchen.
“Yeah, my mom tried to teach us. Didn’t work.” My eyes nearly bugged out at the sight of all the food on the island. “Is that lasagna?”
“Yes. One is vegetarian and one has meat. And there’s antipasto and Caesar salad and garlic bread, and it looks like my parents opened a bottle of red wine. Can I get you a glass?”
I stared at her. “Did you make all this today?”
She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t want my mom to have to cook after working such a long day, so I snuck over here this afternoon to put things together. Plus, I enjoy it. I really haven’t gotten to cook for a large group in a while. I’d forgotten how much I like doing it. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” I picked up an empty plate from the island and began to fill it. “And yes, a glass of wine sounds great.”
“It’s been nice to be home, but I’m actually getting a little antsy to have my own space. My own kitchen.” She took two glasses down and filled them from the bottle of nebbiolo on the island. “I’m going to look at a few places next week.”
“Oh yeah? Where are they?”
As she described the houses she was interested in, we finished filling our plates and took them into the dining room, where her kids and parents were already eating, along with April. I greeted everyone and took the seat Sylvia indicated for me, which was next to her and across from Whitney. While we ate, her parents and sister weighed in on which homes and locations they thought might be best for her, and the kids pleaded for the one with the most land so they could have animals.
“My dad never let us have pets,” Keaton told me.
“Do you
have a dog?” Whitney asked.
“I don’t,” I told her. “My, uh, wife was allergic.”
“You have a wife?” She looked surprised.
“I did. But we’re not together anymore. I mean, we’re divorced.”
“Oh.” Whitney’s eyes moved back and forth between Sylvia and me, and I suddenly felt uncomfortable.
“Then you should totally get a dog now,” Keaton said.
“Do you have kids?” Whitney asked.
I shook my head. “Just nieces and nephews, but they all live in other states.”
“Do you see them a lot?” Keaton asked.
“Not as much as I’d like,” I admitted, tugging my collar away from my neck. I was suddenly warm beneath my clothing. Whitney was staring at me pretty hard.
Not that I blamed her. She was old enough to wonder who the hell this guy was that her mother kept bringing home to dinner. I had to remind myself that we weren’t really doing anything wrong . . . were we?
“All ready for tomorrow night, April?” Sylvia asked.
“Almost.” April took a sip of wine. “As long as the head chef doesn’t throw a tantrum and none of my servers call in sick, I think we’re good. The kids were a huge help today.”
“Good.” Sylvia beamed at her children. “They’re ready and willing to work tomorrow too. Oh, Mom, will you be okay at reception without me tomorrow? Chloe needs my help again in the tasting room.”
“Sure, sweetheart. That’s fine.”
“Henry has been teaching me about the winemaking process here,” Sylvia went on as she lifted her glass. “It’s so fascinating.”
“Is that what you do?” Whitney asked. “Make the wine here?”
“Yes,” I told her.
“Do you live close?”
“I live in Hadley Harbor. Not too far.”
“Did you go to high school with my mom?” Her questions were coming faster now. My leg had a nervous twitch beneath the table.
“No, I grew up on a farm in Iowa.”
“Henry originally went away to school to be a doctor,” said Sylvia. “He likes science just like you do, Keaton.”
Unbreakable Page 15
