by Claire Raye
After I’m done, I head inside to check over some figures on my laptop before sending an email to my dad, asking for both his advice and his interest in what I’m thinking about doing.
It’s a ballsy move, but one I’m suddenly realizing, I’m actually prepared to take. And while it might actually be an answer to one of my seemingly ever-growing list of problems, I’m still not quite ready to tell Lu about it yet.
So after I grab the keys, I quickly type out a text letting her know I’m running some errands, before I jump in her car and head out to meet this woman, all the while the guilt of keeping yet another secret from Lu burns a hole in my gut.
On my way back from town, I stop off and grab us some dinner. I’m later than I thought I’d be and I’d texted Lu a few minutes back telling her I was on my way. She didn’t ask what I’d been doing all afternoon and as much as I wanted to tell her, it was still too soon, for so many reasons.
So instead, I stop in and grab us a couple of pizzas and garlic bread, as well as a tub of her favorite ice cream before heading back to Somerville’s.
“Hey,” she says, as I walk into the kitchen where she’s already pouring me a glass of wine.
“Hi,” I say, leaning in to kiss her. “Should we eat outside?” I ask, nodding toward the back deck.
“Okay,” she says, giving me a strange look, as though she’s trying to decide whether she should ask. She doesn’t and instead picks up our wines and some plates and follows me outside.
We silently grab some pizza and bread, an awkward silence settling around us. Eventually though, we both speak at the same time. Lu’s, “Is everything okay?” almost lost in my confession.
“So, the parts arrived today.”
“What?” she asks, pausing with a slice of pizza halfway to her mouth.
I swallow. “The last of the parts arrived today,” I repeat, pulling the invoice from my back pocket.
Lu lowers her pizza to her plate. “Oh,” is all she says, her eyes falling to the sheet of paper in my hands. She doesn’t take it though and eventually I set it to the side. “So how long do you think it’s going to take you to finish fixing it?”
I shrug, pulling off a piece of bread and putting it my mouth. “Couple of weeks,” I say, chewing what now feels like a hard lump in my throat. “Couple more to make sure it’s all okay.”
Lu nods. “So, a month then.”
She’s still not looking at me, her hands in her lap now as her eyes stare at the invoice on the table.
“Lu,” I say quietly. “Look at me. Please.”
She finally lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine. Even in the low light of the setting sun, I can still see they are filled with tears.
“Babe,” I say, reaching for her. She doesn’t move though, doesn’t lift her hand to meet mine like she’d automatically do every other time. “Lulu,” I say. “Come here, please.”
She stares at me for a few seconds before eventually standing, walking around to my side of the table and letting me pull her onto my lap. I press a kiss to her temple as I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close.
“This doesn’t mean the end,” I whisper, my mouth against her skin.
Her fingers knot together in her lap, her knuckles white. “But it does mean you’re leaving,” she says, and I can hear the sadness in her voice.
I press another kiss to her before gently turning her so she’s facing me. “But not leaving you,” I tell her. “I’m not leaving you.”
A tear falls down her cheek now and it breaks my heart seeing her like this. I reach up, brushing it away with my thumb as she says, “But how are we going to make this work, Jack. We’ve spent every night together since this started and now what? You go back to Oz and I stay here and we spend every night apart until one of us can find a way to visit the other?” She stops, swallows hard before continuing. “That’s not a relationship, that’s not…” she pauses, swiping angrily at her eyes before meeting mine. “It’s never going to work and I’m not sure either of us can make it work, regardless of how much we might want to.”
I lean in and kiss her lips, silencing any more of her words. She whimpers at the touch, her body leaning into mine despite everything she’s just said. I feel her fingers tighten in my shirt, my own arms as they tighten around her, both of us clinging to each other as though we can’t bear the thought of ever letting go.
Eventually I pull back, knowing I owe her some sort of explanation, even if it’s nowhere near to a solution.
“What if I said I was trying to come up with a plan?” I say, brushing the hair back from her face.
“What?” she asks, eyes searching mine.
“It’s early days,” I admit. “And nothing is sorted or set in stone, but I’m trying, okay?” I tell her. “Can you trust me that I’m trying, believe that I want this with you?”
Lu nods, even as a thousand questions flash across her face.
As much as I want to tell her what I’m doing, I know it’s far too early and everything is still way too uncertain that I don’t want to risk getting her hopes up, only to crush them when everything falls through.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, my words low.
“I trust you,” she eventually says, biting her bottom lip.
I smile, lean in and brush my lips against hers. “And do you believe me?” I ask. “Believe that I want this, want you?”
Lu nods, her lips still pressed against mine as she murmurs, “Yes,” before deepening the kiss.
And I kiss her back now, desperately, both of us seemingly overcome with some sort of urgency, as though we’re hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. Dinner is all but forgotten as Lu’s hands slip under my shirt, mine doing the same, relishing the smooth warmth of her skin.
But despite the desire that now takes over, nagging at the back of my mind is the other secret I’m keeping from Lu. The one that has the power to destroy everything I’m trying so desperately to protect, to save.
Mel.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lauren
My morning is consumed with replanting an entire row of grapevines that were overtaken by last year’s drought. Things like this went on the back burner after the wedding debacle, and even though I could have delegated these types of jobs, there was something in me that couldn’t give up what I had done for so many years.
It was something Tommy and I did together, we always had and without question he joined me again today.
“Things feel normal again,” I said as we worked side by side in a quiet steady rhythm.
“Things are normal again,” he replied back and the conversation about what was once is finally laid to rest.
It felt really good to be out in the fields getting dirty and knowing that the normalcy of my life is back. My routine, something I thrive on, something I love, is creating exactly what I need and there’s a familiar buzz within my body, an aliveness in my chest.
I’m back in my office when Jack shows up covered in grease and dirt and grape stains, at exactly 11:30, the time that has become designated as our lunch hour together.
“How’s it going with the crusher?” I ask, trying to sound vague and casual. While knowing it’s a long process, I also wonder how much longer he’ll be around. I’m fishing for an answer to appease myself.
“Okay. It’s still a mess, but I think I should be able to have it up and running in a week or so,” Jack tells me, but continues as he takes in the look on my face. “But I’m going to need to stick around for at least two weeks afterward to make sure it’s working properly.”
I smile at him, and in the back of my mind I can’t help but think he’s dragging out his time here. There’s no way it’s going to take two weeks to see if the machine is working. He’ll know the first few cycles if it’s acting up, but I don’t question his logic.
While my sigh of relief isn’t an exhale of everything I’m holding on to, it is for the moment a relief of sorts.
A thought tugs at
the back of mind as we eat, something Jack mentioned last night; an idea, a plan in the works, something that I gather is his attempt at salvaging what we’ve started here. We both know a long-distance relationship isn’t feasibly possible; the distance too vast.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Jack says plaintively, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“Like what?” I ask, feigning innocence because I know he can see the wheels turning in my head, he knows I’m obsessing over him leaving and his lame ass story about needing to stay several weeks after the crusher is repaired.
“Like you know I’m lying,” he admits and we both get a good laugh out of his honesty.
“You are lying, but I don’t care. If I get to keep you around a little longer then lie all you want.”
“Lu, I’ll stay as long as you want me too.”
His words make my heart skip a beat, fluttering in my chest and making my cheeks grow warm.
“We both know that’s not true. I think you’ve got twenty-four months max since you’re here on a J1 Work Visa.”
My words hit me like a ton of bricks, smacking me in the face and the first thing I picture is Ellen. Ellen had to sponsor his visa. She’s a damn liar too!
Jack’s riotous laugh rings out in my tiny office and he leans over my desk, his hand slipping so he’s cupping the back of my neck.
With his lips nearly touching mine he murmurs, “Guess you just realized Ellen set us up, huh?”
He presses his lips gently to mine, his tongue slipping out to trace my bottom lip and for a second I lose myself in him, forgetting that I want to murder Ellen in her sleep.
“You knew about this too?” I ask, my forehead resting against his, my thoughts clouded by Jack and his amazing mouth.
“Nah, but I hoped like hell you’d be here.” His words are placating and calming, and he brushes his thumb against my cheek as he pulls back. “Ellen’s last name isn’t Somerville anymore so I assumed your family sold the business.”
“You said you were going to look me up?”
“If you weren’t still here, I totally was going to look you up.”
“How?” I question, thinking after all these years I could’ve been married, changed my name like Ellen, left the state.
“Stalk you,” Jack jokes and once again that playfulness is back between us.
As soon as Jack leaves my office, I pick up my phone and call Ellen. There’s no way I’m letting this wait until she’s back from Disneyland. She set me up and she damn well knows it, and while things definitely turned out for the better, I didn’t need her inserting herself into my life. I was doing just fine on my own.
“Everything okay?” Ellen asks as a way of greeting me, not even realizing this has nothing to do with the vineyard and everything to do with her nosiness. Wonder where her kids get it?
“Here at the vineyard, yes, but with you and me, no,” I snap, but as annoyed as I am with her for lying to me, I’m finding it difficult to keep up this feisty persona. Every time I want to lay into her, Jack’s beautiful face pops into my head and I’m stunned into silence.
“What are you even talking about?” Ellen asks, letting out an annoyed huff and sounding very much like our mother.
“I’m talking about you lying to me.”
“Lying to you about what?” she asks, but I know she’s scanning her brain for all the times she’s bullshitted me in the past.
Being the younger sister means you get shit on. It’s the way the world works or at least the way it worked in our house.
Ellen outgrew clothes, and they became mine. Ellen stayed out past curfew, so mine was moved up an hour. Because she was the oldest she was privy to all the quiet little details that were whispered between her and our mother.
“You set me up and then you lied to me about it. You knew you hired Jack because you had to sponsor his visa. You knew it was him all along and you played dumb.”
I hear Ellen exhale hard into the phone, the sound of her breath loud in my ear, as she says, “Listen Lauren, yeah, I knew it was him, well at least I thought it was, but there’s way more to this…”
“More to your lies? Holy fuck, is this like one of those shitty teen comedy romances where you and Jack are in cahoots, like you paid him to date me but then he really falls in love with me.” I’m pacing my tiny office, coming to the end of the room in about six steps and having to turn back around instantly. “For fuck’s sake, Ellen, you better not have made me the next nerdy outcast!”
“Jack is in love with you,” Ellen cuts in trying to distract me from the real reason for my call.
“So you did set this up with him?” I ask, my voice coming across in a high-pitched whine, hating the fact that this wasn’t possibly as organic as I thought it was.
“No. Shit, Lauren, settle down. Can you let me explain?” I nod my head in response to Ellen’s question even though I know she can’t see me. I’m trying to process this whole thing.
“When you asked me to find someone to fix the crusher I called Dad. I know we don’t like to involve them in the business any longer, but we clearly had no idea who to contact to help us get that damn thing fixed. That’s when Dad suggested I reach out to Tony, Jack’s dad.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” I ask, wondering why she would keep this all from her business partner.
“Seriously, Lauren? I kept it from you because I knew you would be irrational, since you were still carrying around your unrequited crush on Jack Wilson.” She laughs a little and I don’t find her teasing funny in the least.
“Whatever,” I respond, dismissing her and the idea that I would be irrational about anything.
“Can I finish now?” Ellen scolds, like she’s talking to one of her kids.
“Yes,” I reply annoyed.
“So, I was able to track down Tony through some old business associates that he and Dad have in common. Which led him to tell me he’s also retired, but to contact his son. Now he didn’t tell me his son’s name and in my defense when I filled out the paperwork to sponsor Jack’s visa, his name isn’t actually Jack, it’s John. I assumed it was possibly his brother or something.”
“He’s an only child,” I tell her growing more annoyed with her stupid lengthy explanation. “Can you get on with it? You’re getting old, Ellen. You tell stories like Mom does.”
“Well, whatever. I felt like you could use a distraction from all the bullshit with Nate, something to remind you that you loved the vineyard and that you once loved someone other than Nate. So, I went through with it and hoped like hell it was Jack.”
“That’s the same thing he said to me,” I mutter, my voice catching in my throat at her words as I realize maybe this was exactly how everything was supposed to play out.
“Said what?”
“That he hoped like hell it was me.”
“Maybe some things are just meant to be,” Ellen says, a kindness in her voice, a soothing tone that makes me feel like I might cry. “I didn’t set you up, Lauren. I promise I didn’t. I just wanted you to be happy again and if going out on a limb with a hunch I had was the way to it, I was willing to give it a try.”
I don’t know if I should thank her or cry or run and find Jack and confess that I do love him. I’m huge fucking mess right now thanks to Ellen and her meddling.
“Do you really think he loves me?” I ask her and she busts out laughing.
“Oh my god, not this shit again. You sure you don’t want to send me a million emails detailing everything he’s said to you so I can analyze it?”
“Fuck off,” I say, laughing through the tears that have pooled in my eyes.
“I gotta go. Will drank this sangria in a glass the size of a fish bowl and is about to get on this spinning tractor ride with the kids. I’m pretty certain there will be puke, but I’ll keep you posted.”
“Send pictures if there is! And thanks Ellen.”
“No problem. Glad I could talk you off the ledge.”
“Because I’m older,” she retorts and hangs up before I can say anything more.
Moments after I hang up with Ellen, Jack pops his head into my office.
“Hey sweets, I gotta run out and pick up a few tools that you’re missing. Tommy’s gonna go with me since we might have to hit up a few home improvement stores to find them.”
“Glad to see you’re getting along with Tommy,” I say back, giving him a wink.
“Yeah, he’s not so bad. You okay though? You look like you were crying.”
“Nah, I’m all good. Just allergies, I guess. When do you think you’ll be back? Don’t forget we’re closing up early today. We’ve got that private party.”
“Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me. I’d guess we’ll be back by five.”
“Dinner?” I ask, standing up from my desk and making my way to the doorway where Jack is still standing.
“Of course,” he replies leaning in for a kiss before he heads out the door.
I spend the rest of the day organizing the last minute details for the private party, like going over the menu with the chef and making sure the servers are prepared. The party will run itself and I leave my staff to do what they do best.
But just as I’m about to leave for the day a knock comes on the door to my office. It’s a quarter to five and the party is set to arrive in fifteen minutes, so assuming it’s a staff member with a last second question, I call out, “Come in.”
The door opens slowly and in steps a tall leggy blonde with a bronze glow and piercing blue eyes.
“Can I help you?” I ask, wondering if she’s with the private party and maybe she’s taken a wrong turn.
“I’m looking for Jack Wilson,” she says, her accent unmistakable. “The woman up front said I could find him here.”
