Why did I want to make this work? Because I was afraid to commit to one path or the other? I really wasn’t. I knew I wanted Zoe, and if I had to go home swinging and fight to get her back, that was what I’d do. So why split my time at all? Why keep my life here? I didn’t want it. I wanted her.
I felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Maybe I had needed to be here again for it to sink in. See my old life in all its stark emptiness. Because I could see now how hollow it had been.
I grabbed my laptop and went back to the couch. Took a sip of the mediocre wine. I needed to spend a few days here—go into the office and take care of things. Work with my boss on a transition plan. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t up and walk away. I had responsibilities to see to. But I wasn’t going to stay—not any longer than necessary.
If I was going to make things work with Zoe—and I was fucking determined to do just that—I knew what I had to do. I had to commit to a life with her. Make her my priority. That’s where I’d screwed up the first time.
And I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
29
Zoe
With the Cockburn wedding out of the way—I hoped the Cocksuckers would be blissfully happy together and never book Salishan for an event again—I took a few much-needed days off. I hung out at home—sans pants—binging Netflix and drinking wine. And it was mostly pretty great.
But god, I missed Roland.
We texted back and forth some, but didn’t talk about our argument. I hated leaving things unresolved, but it wasn’t the kind of thing we could deal with by thumb typing on our phones. He told me he was taking care of business there, whatever that meant. I imagined him back in his element. Dressed for work, meeting with all the other important people at his company.
Uncertainty ate at me. I tried not to dwell on it, but unanswered questions hovered in the back of my mind. Was his plan going to work? Would his company let him split his time? What if they said no? What would he choose? I kept wondering if he was going to call and tell me he had to stay a few more weeks. And if that would turn into months. And if six months from now, I’d realize I’d been a fool to trust him again.
It made me retreat into myself. My answers to his texts were short. I felt like I needed to protect myself, guard what little of my heart I had left. He’d taken most of it with him and I wasn’t sure if I was ever getting it back.
I went to work on Wednesday with a burst of motivation to clean my desk. It felt like it was time to start fresh. Get rid of all the stacks of crap I’d been holding onto, put things in their proper place, and enjoy a nice, clean workspace.
I spent my morning going through all the stuff I’d been telling myself I’d put away later. Later had to come eventually, and for this girl, it was today. I scanned and filed invoices and contracts. Tossed old notebooks I didn’t need anymore. Threw away the numerous to-do lists I’d completed and left strewn about my desk.
In the process, I found a coffee mug, a t-shirt that I’d somehow shoved in a drawer, two nail files, my favorite blue pen, and the phone case I’d thought I lost a few months ago.
It took a while to get through everything, but when I finished, I stood back and looked at my lovely, pristine, organized desk. I felt lighter, like I’d tossed out baggage I no longer needed to carry.
Cooper stopped by, and after a snarky remark about not realizing there had been a desk in this office, he took me to lunch. It was oddly relaxing to listen to his endless stream of chatter about the upcoming harvest. How he was routinely checking on his babies to see if they were ready. He was also taking a trip south soon to visit another large vineyard. We were sourcing a new variety of grapes this season, and he was like a little kid at Christmas over it.
After lunch, I went back to the Big House. The hum of voices came from the tasting rooms, but otherwise it was quiet. I started up the stairs and Roland came barreling down so fast, he almost crashed into me.
“Zoe,” he said, grabbing my upper arms to keep me from falling. “Sorry. I was looking for you.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be in San Francisco.”
“I know.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs after him. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I stumbled along behind as he led me into my office.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, shutting the door.
“When did you get back?”
“About five minutes ago,” he said. “It’s been killing me to be away. I had to take care of some things down there, but I caught an early flight and drove straight here.”
I stepped away and looked at him, my head spinning. “Why?”
“Because we need to talk,” he said.
“Now?”
“Yes, now. We need to talk about what happened when we broke up. And what’s happening now. All of it.”
“Um…” I knew we needed to talk. There was so much to say. But now? “Here? Right this second? Maybe we should wait. Grab dinner later or something.”
“Do you have appointments this afternoon?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then we’re doing this now,” he said. “You were right, we need to get everything out in the open. Otherwise, all that shit from the past is going to fester and poison us both. I’m not going to let that happen, even if it means I have to take a beating now. I deserve it anyway. So I want you to tell me everything. Why you left me. What you’re feeling now. I want to hear it all.”
I crossed my arms. “You just want me to unload on you?”
“Yes,” he said, surprising me with the vehemence in his voice. “Hit me with everything you’ve got. We got fucking divorced, Zoe. And we never talked about it.”
“Okay,” I said and took a deep breath. God, where did I even begin? “I knew we were young when we fell in love the first time, and we were both going to change as we grew up. But you turned into someone I didn’t recognize. I felt like all you cared about was your job title and your salary. It wasn’t just that you worked a lot. You gave everything you had to your career. There wasn’t anything left. When you were home, which wasn’t all that often, you were tired and distant. You didn’t talk to me, or tell me what was going on with you. It was like watching you slowly turn to stone.”
He held eye contact while I spoke, never looking away. “What else?”
“I didn’t want money,” I said. “I didn’t care about the fancy apartment, or the car you bought me, or the credit card you gave me to use. And I’m still insulted that you thought I did. I was happier when we had nothing. When we were in college and we’d go through the couch cushions looking for enough change to go get a cheap beer. I don’t understand why you thought I ever wanted a life where I traded you for a bunch of stuff.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “Is it all right if I say something now?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t see it that way,” he said. “And honestly, it wasn’t ever about you. Although that was my first mistake. It should have been, because I would have realized how meaningless it all was. I told myself I was doing everything for us, but that was a lie. I was doing it for me. I thought I had something to prove—to my family, and my father. Mostly my father. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. I thought if I could just achieve more, he’d have to admit he was proud of me. And money was how I measured that. But in the process, I completely lost sight of what actually mattered.”
“You were willing to throw our marriage out the window to prove something to your dad?” I asked.
“Like I said, I didn’t see it that way at the time,” he said. “And I’m telling you right now, I was wrong. Every choice I made, from going to grad school, to moving us to San Francisco, was based on resentment. I kept thinking I could get rid of all the bitterness I was carrying around if I just made it to the next level. Someday I’d achieve enough, and I wouldn’t have to feel that way
anymore.
“But what I didn’t see was that I had everything I’d ever need right in front of me,” he continued. “I had you. What the fuck else mattered if I had you? You’re a fucking badass who can stand on your own no matter what life throws at you. I was angry with you back then because I thought you didn’t support me. But how the hell was I supporting you? I wasn’t. I wanted you to be around when I had time for you, but I wasn’t giving you anything in return. And that’s fucked up, Zo.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Do you want to know the worst part?” he asked. “I was turning into my goddamn father. And I was completely blind to it. The things he did were different—he took on running Salishan instead of trying to get away from it. And maybe that’s why I didn’t see it. I thought he was an asshole because he resented the winery. But he was an asshole because he expected my mom to be around for him when he needed her, and to stay out of his way when he didn’t. What did he ever give her? He spent their whole fucking marriage acting like he was constantly sacrificing for her, but it was bullshit. She didn’t need a husband who worked his ass off to keep her family’s winery open. She needed a husband who stood by her side. And he never did. And there I was, working like a dog, thinking I had it all figured out, and I was doing the same fucking thing.”
“You should have talked to me,” I said. “You never told me how you felt about your dad. I’ve known you since we were seventeen, and this is the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”
“I know,” he said. “I should have. And I’m sorry. God, Zoe, I’m so sorry for those years when I left you alone. I hate that I did that to you.”
I nodded and touched his hand, acknowledging his apology. “It wasn’t all your fault. I didn’t talk to you about how I was feeling, either. I got mad and picked fights with you. But arguing over things like you coming home late never addressed the real issues. I had all these doubts about whether you really cared about me, but I never told you. I should have.”
“I want to believe it would have helped, but I don’t know,” he said. “I was a pretty big asshole.”
I cracked a smile, although the emotion welling up from my chest made it hard to breathe. “The day I left you was the worst day of my life. I knew I was going to, but I was so mad. Being angry is easier sometimes, you know? But that day, I loaded up my car and suddenly it was so real. It took me two days to drive back here from California, and I think I cried the whole time.”
“Oh fuck, Zoe.” He pulled me close and held me, running his hand over my hair. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t leave expecting you to chase after me,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to make a statement so you’d change. But it still hurt when you didn’t even try. I felt like you didn’t care. I walked away, and I thought it meant nothing to you.”
His arms tightened around me and he kissed the top of my head.
“But then, before you left the other day, you told me I’d gutted you.” I was having a hard time getting the words out. “Roland, I didn’t know. If you were hurt, you never acted like it. You never told me.”
“I was hurt,” he said, his voice quiet. “Nothing has ever hurt more than the moment I came home and saw you were gone.”
I couldn’t stop the tears, so I let them come. “I didn’t want to hurt you. That wasn’t why.”
“I know,” he said. “You had to make a choice, and you chose to take care of yourself. Honestly, Zoe, you made the right call.”
“Why did you just let me go?” I asked.
“Because I was angry. Like you said, anger is easier. If I’d let my guard down and stopped being mad, I’d have had to admit I was hurt. Being hurt meant being vulnerable. I couldn’t face that. So I acted like I didn’t give a fuck, and I focused on work to keep you off my mind.”
I slid my arms around his waist and held him, wetting his shirt with my tears. “Where does this leave us now?”
He pulled back to look at me. “I’m not going back to San Francisco. I already gave my notice. It doesn’t matter what happens with my career, or the winery, or any of it. I just want you. No, it’s more than that. I need you. And I know you don’t really need me. You were doing fine without me. But I wasn’t. I was miserable. I love you and I’m never going to love anyone else. You’re it for me, Zoe, and you always were. I just hope you’ll decide you want to keep me around.”
I touched his face. “You’re staying?”
“I’m staying,” he said. “That back-and-forth shit was never going to work. We’d end up where we were four years ago, and I’m not doing that to you again. You deserve better.”
“You’re wrong about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I do need you,” I said.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. Slid his fingers though my hair. He kissed me tenderly, his mouth soft and warm.
“So this is it?” I asked. “You’re staying and we’re… we’re what? Going to date each other? Give this another shot?”
“No,” he said.
“No?”
He smiled and reached into his pocket. “I don’t want to date you, Zo. I don’t need time to decide, or to see if this will work out.”
He opened his hand and I stared at the two rings sitting in his palm.
“Oh my god,” I said, my voice trembling. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Yes.”
“Those are… but how did you…?”
“I kept yours,” he said, his voice soft. “Leo found mine outside, if you can believe it. He held onto it for me.”
I touched the two gold bands with the tip of my finger. I’d left my ring on the counter when I’d moved out of our apartment. “I always figured you threw this away.”
“I couldn’t,” he said. “I had it in a box in my closet. I think deep down I knew I’d need it again someday. Or at least, I hoped I would.”
A single tear broke free from the corner of my eye and trailed down my cheek. “Are you saying we should get married again?”
He touched my chin and tilted my face up. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I want you to be my wife. I know how badly I screwed things up before, and you can be damn sure I’m not going to do that again. Most people don’t get a second chance when they lose something as precious as you. I know how fucking lucky I am. If you need more time, I won’t push you. But I’m in, Zo. I’m yours.”
I started to laugh—because honestly, what else could I do? “You’re crazy, Roland Miles. You just proposed to your ex-wife.”
“About fucking time, don’t you think?” he asked. “So what do you say, Zo? Will you marry me again?”
I popped up onto my tip-toes, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him—hard and deep. As I pulled away, I bit his lower lip and tugged, just enough to make him grunt.
“Hell yes, I’ll marry you again,” I said. “I fucking love you.”
“I fucking love you, too.”
He kissed me again, his hands sliding low to cup my ass. And I was very glad I’d cleaned off my desk, because the things he did to me in that office made it more than worth the effort.
30
Roland
I tightened the screws on the new office chair. The one that had been in here was shit, so I’d ordered a new one. I made sure the last screw was in, then gave the chair a spin. Looked good.
I’d moved into the office next to Zoe’s. It was a little smaller than the one I’d been using, but I liked being right next to her. I’d suggested we knock out the wall and share a bigger space, but she’d vetoed that idea. At first I’d thought she didn’t want to share an office because she wanted space from me. But she’d clarified that she tended to let her office get messy, and she knew I liked mine kept neat. She didn’t want to give us something stupid to constantly fight over.
She had a point.
But the good news was, she was right next door. And I could pop over there anytime I needed to see her. Or touch her.
Or kiss her.
Or fuck her on that messy-ass desk of hers. The door didn’t lock, so we always ran the risk of being caught. But that had never stopped us before.
We hadn’t gotten remarried yet, but Zoe was planning our wedding. We’d eloped the first time—just went to the courthouse and stood before a judge. This time, we wanted a real wedding. It would be small—nothing extravagant or complicated—but knowing Zoe, it was going to be beautiful. I didn’t want to wait any longer than I had to, so she was arranging the details on short notice. But Zo had all the strings to pull, so throwing together a last-minute wedding was turning out to be pretty easy.
I glanced at the time. It was six. We were meeting my family downstairs and then heading over to the house to have dinner with my mom. I closed my laptop, pocketed my phone, and went next door to grab Zoe.
She was typing, her eyes on her computer screen.
“Hey,” she said. “One second…”
I leaned against the door frame and waited while she finished.
“Okay,” she said. “Done. Contract sent. The wedding I’m booking is going to be small, but they have some serious money to throw around. It’s going to be really fun.”
“Sounds great,” I said. She came around her desk and I drew her in for a kiss. “Ready?”
“Yes, and I’m starving.”
Cooper and Brynn were downstairs in the lobby. Brynn looked exasperated. She stood with her arms crossed and seemed to be trying to get a word in, but Cooper was on a tirade. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I heard Coop say something like you’re too young for that anyway.
“Shut up,” Leo said. He sat in one of the leather chairs, resting his elbows on his knees. “Seriously, Cooper, you’re not her mother.”
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