by Melody Grace
He grinned. “I tried! But you said you had to compare Summer’s strawberry with Natalie’s chocolate crust.”
“And now I regret it.” Jules leaned back against him, relaxing on one of the benches with his arm slung comfortably around her shoulder. She looked out at the lush green of the vineyard and let out a quiet sigh. “I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of this view.”
“Well, enjoy it while you can.”
Before Jules could ask what he meant, Reeve got to his feet. “Be right back,” he said, going to join the band on the makeshift stage. Evie gave Jules a questioning look, but she just shrugged.
“No idea,” she said.
Reeve gestured for quiet, but people didn’t see, and the chatter continued, so Jules stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Everyone turned. “Thanks,” Reeve called over, smiling. “And don’t worry, I’m not a man of many words,” he began. “I know you’re all just waiting for the moment to fight over the last slice of Summer’s pie—”
“I have dibs!” Grayson called, and they all laughed.
“I just wanted to say, it’s good to see you all here,” Reeve continued. “Sundays at the vineyard are a tradition from way back in the day, and it means a lot to have everyone gathered again. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better send-off for the place. Anyway, thanks for coming by,” he said, handing the microphone back to the singer, and stepping back down again.
Send-off?
Jules frowned. What did he mean by that?
“Here,” Evie said, nudging her dessert plate over. “I know you said you didn’t have room, but you have to taste this peach cake.”
But Jules was already getting to her feet. “I need to talk to Reeve,” she said, making her way over to where he was chatting with Nick.
“Hey,” Reeve said, smiling as she approached. “You two know each other, right?”
“We’ve met.” Nick smiled, looking as crisp as ever in linen pants and a pale blue button-down. “I tried my best to sweep her off her feet, but clearly, she had her eyes on someone else.”
Reeve chuckled, giving Jules a light kiss. “Glad to hear it,” he said, but Jules couldn’t laugh along with them. Not when she still had Reeve’s speech echoing in her mind.
“What did you mean, giving the place a send-off?” she asked, looking up at him. “You said you couldn’t bear to sell the vineyard to that couple the other day.”
“I’m not selling it to them.” Reeve reassured her. “Aunt June says they won’t be making an offer. Something about the chi being wrong.”
But Jules barely had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief before he added: “I’m selling it to Nick.”
14
Jules’ heart sank in her chest. Reeve had already arranged a sale?
“I… What?” she stammered, staring at him in disbelief. There had to be some mistake; some way she was misunderstanding things. Reeve wouldn’t just go ahead and sell the vineyard like this without saying a word to her.
Would he?
“We hit it off at poker the other week.” Reeve continued, still all smiles. “It turned out, he tried to buy it from Frank a couple of years ago. Luckily, he was still interested in taking it off our hands.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Nick gave a laugh. “This man drives a hard bargain, let me tell you.”
Jules tried to process what they were saying. “I don’t understand,” she said, feeling a terrible chill spread down her spine. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me this was going on? I thought you changed your mind!”
“I never said that.” Reeve’s smile slipped, and he seemed to notice for the first time that she was the only one not toasting the news. “What’s going on? I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“Happy… ?” Jules echoed. She couldn’t believe this. He didn’t even realize what he’d done.
Nick looked back and forth between them. “Why don’t I give you two a moment—” he began tactfully, but Jules shook her head.
“No. Please, keep on planning whatever this is.”
She turned and stalked away, her blood pounding in her ears. All around her, the party still whirled on: Laughter and happy faces at every turn that seemed to be taunting her.
“Jules!” Cassie grabbed her, beaming. “We’re planning a girl’s night. What do you think about ‘paint your own pottery’ at Mac’s studio?”
“We can do ‘smash your own’ if you don’t like how they turn out,” Mackenzie added.
Jules pulled back. She needed to get away, she couldn’t think straight in the crowd. “I… I’m sorry, I have to go.”
She struck out blindly down the hill, hurrying through a long row of vines, trying to escape the music—and the sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.
What made her think it would be different this time?
What made her think Reeve would want to stay?
“Jules!”
She heard Reeve’s voice calling after her, but she didn’t slow until she was at the very end of the row. It was the spot she’d found him working that afternoon during the bachelorette party: fringed by trees, with a creek burbling softly along the edge of the property line. This was where he’d explained to her about all the different elements that made up a glass of wine, and she’d been bowled over by the passion in his voice, and the love he clearly had for this land.
Clearly, she had him all wrong.
“Jules.” Reeve caught up with her. She reluctantly turned, and found him looking at her with a mix of wariness and concern. “What was that about back there? What’s going on?”
“What do you think is going on?” Jules shot back. “How long have you been planning this behind my back? You never said a word about Nick, or selling. Why would you keep it from me?”
Reeve looked confused. “I wasn’t hiding it,” he said. “We’ve been working out the details. I didn’t say anything before now because I didn’t want to jinx it, not before everything was settled.”
“So, this party was to celebrate the deal,” Jules said slowly, as everything clicked into place. She’d been running around, doing everything she could to make Reeve see that he belonged here, when all the while, he was so happy to be leaving, he was throwing the biggest bash in town to wave them all goodbye.
She felt like a fool.
“What’s wrong with that?” Reeve asked. “You always said we should have more people around. I thought the party would make you happy.”
“And you’ve been getting along so well with Frank.”
“Because I finally figured out how to fix things! I thought you would understand. You know what a mess he’s made of the vineyard,” Reeve said, sounding frustrated. “I told you from the start, the bank’s breathing down my neck. I have no choice but to sell.”
“Don’t you see? It’s not about the vineyard, Reeve,” she exclaimed, her voice rising in anger. “It’s about us!”
There was silence. He stared back at her. “I don’t understand.”
Jules took a deep breath. “What happens next?” she asked, trying to keep it together even as a cocktail of hurt and rejection whirled in her chest.
“What do you mean?”
“You sell the vineyard to Nick,” she asked him. “Then what?”
“I don’t have to spend my life trying to wrangle all my father’s bad decisions,” Reeve said. “He stops being my problem, and I go back… ”
He trailed off. Realization slowly dawned in his eyes.
“You go back to your old life,” Jules finished for him. “In California. You get to leave Sweetbriar Cove, and all of us, and never look back again. You get to leave me.”
Reeve shook his head. “It’s not like that,” he protested, stepping towards her. “We never talked about what we wanted.”
“So let’s talk about it now.” Jules blinked back the tears. He was standing just a few feet away, close enough for her to reach out and touch him, pull him closer and never let go
. But at the same time, she could feel a chasm opening up between them. The distance between her great hopes for the future, and all the thought he hadn’t even given to what lay down the road.
“What do you want from me?” she asked him, hating the vulnerable quaver in her voice. “Have you even thought about where this is going? What it could become? Because I’ve been holding back for weeks now, trying not to think ahead, or press things, but clearly I’m the only one.”
Reeve shook his head again. “I’ve thought about it too, of course I have,” he insisted. He gazed at her, beseeching, and she could see the conflict in his blue eyes. “The past month has been incredible, but… You’ve been applying for jobs all over. You just got out of a relationship, and we both said we were just here for the summer… ” He paused again, and every hesitation was another paper cut to Jules’ heart.
“So that was all this was to you?” she asked, feeling hollow. “A summer fling?”
“No!” Reeve said immediately. He closed the distance between them, taking Jules’ hand between his. “You know that’s not true. This is real. The way I feel about you.”
“But not real enough to make a plan, or think about the future,” she said, still aching inside. She pulled her hand away to swipe angrily at her face. “God, I should have seen this coming. Why didn’t I see it?”
“Even if I go back to California, it doesn’t mean we have to end,” Reeve argued. “We could see each other long-distance. You could visit, or come stay. They have social media jobs there, too, you know.”
“You’d ask me to move there with you?” Jules asked, her hopes rising again, but he raked a hand through his hair and glanced away.
“I don’t know! Maybe, down the road… ”
And that ‘maybe’ told Jules everything she needed to know—and had been too blind to notice, all along.
“You told me you were scared of winding up like your father, pushing everyone away.” Jules looked at him, her heart aching with tenderness. And bitter regret. “But here you are, doing the exact same thing. You’re so afraid of caring too much, you won’t hold on to anything that matters. Or anyone.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? I’m crazy about you, Reeve,” she said, tears stinging in the back of her throat. “I’m falling in love with you, but you can’t even plan one week from now, or think about how our lives might fit together. You’ve been so focused on severing all your links to the past, you can’t imagine a future for us.”
Reeve started pacing, tense with frustration. “You’re just springing this on me,” he protested. “If we took some time, and talked about everything… ”
“What would be different with time?” Jules asked, the knot in her stomach like iron now. “You’ve set up your life so there’s nothing tying you down, or holding you back. You said it yourself, you don’t even have a place you can call home. Where am I supposed to fit in that? What would being together even look like once summer is over?”
“I don’t know!” Reeve exclaimed. “But we could try. See what happens. Why do I have to have everything figured out?”
“Because if you felt the same way I do, you would have already asked yourself how to make this last.”
Jules stared at him, wondering how she could have been so blind. She’d been down this road before, chasing after men who were lukewarm about her, but who were happy enough to pass the time, having fun; letting her keep falling for them—until the day they casually broke the news that she just wasn’t enough.
She couldn’t do that again, not with her heart already breaking in her chest.
Not loving Reeve the way she already did.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, feeling the hollow ache of rejection wrap itself around her body.
“Jules, no… ” Reeve’s eyes widened. He reached for her again, but she forced herself to pull back. She knew that if he touched her, if he pulled her into his arms, she might be able to lie to herself long enough to stay. To savor whatever moments he could offer her; pretend like she didn’t need something more.
Take whatever he was willing to give, instead of what she knew in her heart she needed to be happy.
“Take care of yourself,” she whispered. “I hope… I hope you find a way to get past all of this,” she looked around the field of lush vines, blurring green through her tears. “Because you deserve to have something you can hold onto. That life you described, wherever that may be.”
And then Jules turned and walked away, even as her heart was breaking.
Even as she wished that Reeve would come after her, and tell her he loved her, and beg her please to stay. But he didn’t. The band kept playing, the world kept turning, and Jules Rivera was alone again.
15
Reeve opened his eyes on Monday morning, stewing in whisky and regret.
He regretted the bottle of Jack Daniels he’d drunk, hiding away from the party back at the house. He regretted the hangover now pounding through his skull with the force of a thousand suns. But most of all, he regretted watching Jules walk away from him—and not doing a damn thing to make her stay.
He stared up at the ceiling, watching the ancient fan spin. It sent a wave of nausea rolling through his body, but that seemed fitting, somehow. He should be hurting, after the way Jules had looked at him, with such betrayal and rejection in her eyes. It tore him up inside knowing he’d caused her pain, when all he wanted was to be holding her again.
Why hadn’t he found the words to tell her how he felt?
It wasn’t that he didn’t care. If anything, he cared too much. How many nights these past weeks had he lain awake watching her sleep? Feeling a quiet stillness like nothing he’d ever known before, a perfect sense of peace beside her, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. And when she stirred, a sleepy smile on her lips as she wordlessly reached for him, he would happily have lost himself in her forever, and never come up for air.
But then the the doubts would come, snaking in the back of his mind. Like he had some instinct to pull away, even though he couldn’t explain why. All the other women, all the other times, it had been easy to keep things simple. A casual fling, a fun relationship… But somehow, things never seemed to progress beyond that. There was always a reason it didn’t work out in the end, and if things got messy? Hell, he was getting on a plane every other week to go scouting vineyards abroad. It made leaving easy, baked in to the relationship from the start.
Hadn’t that been the whole reason he’d let himself get close to Jules? Knowing they had the summer, without any thought to what came after that.
But what happened now that his heart wanted more?
Already, it was beating out a guilty refrain, telling him to go to her. Telling him he’d just made the biggest damn mistake of his life.
“You’re so afraid of caring too much, you won’t hold on to anything that matters.”
Reeve shook away the echo of her sad, pitying voice. He’d done the right thing, he told himself. She was moving way too fast. And what was she expecting, for him to stick around in Sweetbriar Cove and keep the vineyard running somehow? The only reason he was back in town was to sever any last connection to this place and move on for good.
It showed that she didn’t know him at all.
Or maybe she knew him better than he even knew himself.
Reeve scowled, hauling himself out of bed. He made his way downstairs to the kitchen, wincing at the harsh summer sun.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” His father’s voice made Reeve recoil.
“Please, don’t yell.”
He went and ran the cold faucet, pouring himself a glass of water—and then dunking his head straight under the flow.
Frank chuckled. “Throw back a few too many last night, son? It’s not like you to be this hungover. I thought you could handle your liquor.”
Reeve mumbled vaguely. The last thing he wanted to do was eat, but he knew he had to settle his stomach somehow, s
o he dug some bread out of the cupboard, and found some bacon in the fridge.
“I’ve got that,” Frank said, steering him aside and taking his place at the ancient stove. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot. Drink it.”
Reeve did as he was told, gulping down a mug full before pouring another and taking a seat in the corner. He slumped, watching his father set the grill pan on, slicing thick hunks of bread and spreading them liberally with butter. “A good old-fashioned fry-up, that’s what you need.” Frank sounded upbeat as he moved around the kitchen. “Soaks up all that booze you’ve got in your system. What happened?” he asked. “I lost track of you once things got going. Did you and Jules sneak off to have your own private party?”
Reeve took another gulp of coffee. “Something like that,” he mumbled, not wanting to admit the truth out loud.
“Well, you missed a real good time,” Frank continued. “Aunt June was getting friendly with Baz, the lead guitarist. Their Meatloaf duet’s going down in the history books, for sure. And my vineyard tour was a real hit,” he added. “We should make them a regular feature. Get Jules to write about them on those web pages she made.”
Reeve paused, his heart sinking even lower. He’d wanted to wait until the vineyard sale was a done deal before telling his father. Now, he had to rip the Band-Aid off. But hell, at least he couldn’t feel any worse than he did right now.
Right?
“Listen, dad. There’s something we need to talk about.” Reeve said slowly, bracing himself for battle. “There won’t be any more tours, or parties here. I found a buyer for the property. He’s ready to close by the end of the month.”
Frank slowly turned.
“Nick Sterling has agreed to buy,” Reeve continued. “I negotiated for you to stay a couple more months. He’s willing to let you bring in the crop, and use the property to bottle the wine, too. But this will be the last one. It’s time to let it go,” he said firmly. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I, son,” Frank replied evenly, setting a plate of toast in front of Reeve. “I’m sorry you went out of your way, setting up a deal to sell a property that doesn’t belong to you.”
