That's the Way I Loved You

by Carrie Aarons

  I sip my glass of Chardonnay as I survey the vineyard around us, almost with envy. I’d been too young to go to Hale Vineyards when I lived here in my youth, and since I never came back to visit, I haven’t gotten to experience the beautiful winery just in my family’s backyard.

  From what my sisters and brother have told me, the former Hale Vineyards was bought by a long-time resident about four or five years ago, and fixed up to its former glory. When we were little kids, I remember my parents coming out here for date nights, escaping into the serenity of the winery. When we were in high school, we couldn’t wait to come of legal drinking age so we could go drink like classy adults at the vineyard. My friends and I had even snuck in here a few times, challenging each other to eat the bitter grapes off the vine thinking they’d make us tipsy.

  It only took Adeline about five minutes to drive us here, and she and Lori were giggling and smiling the entire way. They let me in on the secret that they came here about twice a month, leaving either Brad or Noah, both usually, with the kids. They called it “sister day,” and that sent a pang of sadness through my gut.

  “You’re here now,” Adeline reassures me, embracing me in a side hug.

  We’re each on our second glass of wine, the sun shining down on the land only enhancing our buzz on the gorgeous afternoon.

  “I think the rosé is my favorite,” Lori declares, happy to be away from a nursing baby for a few hours.

  She’s the drunkest of us all, having not had a drop of alcohol in a long time, and it’s hilarious to see. She keeps grabbing two or three appetizers from the trays going around and laughing too loudly at every joke made by people we get into conversation with.

  “Rosé isn’t even a wine.” I scoff, the snob in me coming out.

  “Oh, shut up, you bitchy Yankee. If it’s made from grapes and gets you drunk, it’s wine.” She smacks my butt as an endearment.

  I shrug, raising an eyebrow. “Actually, I can’t argue with that.”

  “We have got to make our way to the buffet, I’m starving.” Adeline rubs her stomach. “Plus, I heard they’ve got Rudy’s pecan coffee cake.”

  “Why didn’t you say so sooner?” I all but sprint up the lawn.

  The place is massive, a huge piece of land up past the lake. You can look down onto it, and though others don’t know where it is, I can pinpoint my shack of a house through the trees. The vines create the most romantic of sceneries, and whoever fixed this place up when they bought it from the former owners did a bang-up job. It’s part farmhouse vibe, part Tuscan villa, and the whole place seems like it’s been transported out of a novel you want to get lost in. The wine is some of the best I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve been to Napa, and the food is locally sourced plus delicious.

  If I’m going to be staying around in Texas for a while, I may just be making several more visits here. I saw the perfect bench to sip coffee and write during the day, if I can declare it my own.

  After we finish at the buffet, stuffing ourselves until we almost look like Violet from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and someone just might have to roll us out, we walk the premises. Apparently, Adeline has worked part time here before, during parties and events, and is allowed in some of the off-limits areas.

  She shows us the supply room, the big machinery they use to make the wine on property, the wedding suites, and small chapel that was put in last year, and tells us some tidbits about it.

  When we get to a big warehouse-looking building on the edge of the property, I’m shocked at some lettering I see at the top of it.

  “I’d love to see the stockroom,” I say, staring up at the sign.

  Darling June. The name sends goose bumps over my skin, but I try to shake them off. Must be a coincidence.

  “Go ahead down, owner is down there.”

  Beau stands there, sweaty and out of breath. I didn’t realize he was working here too, and part of me wants to question him. He looks like he’s been rolling those massive barrels around all day, and I don’t want to bother him. We’re not the best of friends, and if he’s allowing me to have an inside look, I’m not going to piss him off.

  “You go ahead, Savvy, we’ve already seen it. Plus, I need to get drunky hear some water.” Lori is practically hanging onto Adeline for dear life, and I know she’s going to sleep well tonight.

  I’ve been a little curious to meet the owner and talk shop, so I head down. Perry got me into the wine scene, shaping my palette for it over the years we’ve been together. One of our favorite things to do is head to upstate New York and go winery touring, or on special occasions fly to Italy or Napa. It’s extravagant and something only rich people do, but I’m spoiled by it. The whole atmosphere of the wine industry is alluring and romantic, and I’ve given into it.

  When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I only see one sole figure crouching to observe something on one of the bottom shelves.

  “Hi there, I’m looking to speak with the owner …”

  The warehouse is musty and ill-lit, but when Jason stands to his full height, I know it can’t be anyone else.

  He looks just as shocked as I feel. “You’re … uh, you’re looking at him.”

  Now I know why they didn’t come down with me, all three of those traitors. Lori, Adeline, and Beau wanted me to find Jason like this, wanted me to discover the secret.

  And yet, this entire time, Jason has kept it from me. How easy it would have been for him to brag about this, or wield that kind of power in a small town like Hale in my face.

  Then, only one thing exists in my brain.

  “You … you named it after her.” I’m so shocked I can barely think.

  Jason steps toward me, a dusty bottle of red in his fist. “I named it after both of you. Darling for you, June for her. I figured it was only fitting. I’d be nowhere if it wasn’t for your mom. And I never would have bought this place if I wasn’t trying to be a better man … for you.”

  He bought this winery to prove himself, and he named it after my mother and me. I’m so bombarded with the information I’ve collected about the winery over the last few hours, and the emotions hitting me all at once. I couldn’t reconcile my prior impression of the Jason of today with what I was seeing before me.

  My mind is reeling. “But I was gone.”

  “And I hoped and prayed every day that you’d come back.” He shrugs, disregarding the thousands of days I’d stayed away from Hale.

  From the way Jason says it, I can tell that relief is coursing through his body. This is the honest truth he’s been biting his tongue on for far too long, and now he isn’t afraid to say it. Whatever I decide, he’s declaring his feelings, and I respect that. When I think back on this later, I’ll respect the hell out of him leaving nothing on the table. He wants this, and he’s not beating around the bush about it.

  “I can’t believe you did this. I can’t believe you bought this.”

  I had no idea, in all of my jabs about his employment or insinuating that he was a deadbeat, that Jason had bought this place. That he runs it completely, and so well that it’s been featured on TV shows and in magazines.

  “You never once corrected me.” That thought strikes me hardest.

  “What?” He blinks, the heat and tensions growing between us in this dark, cavernous space.

  “I said so many things about your job, about you going nowhere. And you just took it. You could have corrected me a dozen times, proved me wrong. But you didn’t.”

  Jason shrugs again, those baby blues boring into me. “The worth of a person is not in what they own or how much money they make. It’s about their soul. How kind they are, how they care for the people around them.”

  He nearly steals all the breath from my lungs. “My mother used to say that.”

  Those black waves on top of his head shift as he nods. “I know that. It’s because of her that I try to be the kind of man I think she’d be proud of.”

  And now I’m all but crying. What would my mother see i
f she looked at my life? Back in New York, I’m tied to a man who values money and power over almost anything. Perry is a good man, but his main goal in life is to amass as much as he possibly can; financially, socially, whatever will further his agenda of rising to the top.

  Then here is Jason. A small, humble man from a nowhere town who let me berate him about his life choices without shoving it in my face that I was dead wrong. Because it doesn’t matter what he does. This place could go under tomorrow and he’d still be a wonderful person, willing to help his community out in any way possible.

  “The Whistlestop …” It suddenly occurs to me that he’s been working there for no reason.

  “I help Rudy out since Loretta passed. His arthritis is getting bad and—”

  I don’t even let him finish. Within seconds, I’m in his arms, kissing his face, his lips, and anything else I can get to. Jason catches me, a wine bottle pressed against my spine, as his tongue meets mine stroke for stroke. We pour everything into this kiss; all the lost time, the pain, the realizations.

  How in the world could I have ever given up on this man? I was in such a bad place, so weak and lost, that I judged him for the worst he ever was. If I had stayed, would he have gotten his head on straight two days later and manned up the way I needed him too?

  I would never know, because I left. I wasted so many days without him, and deprived us of the true, eternal love we clearly still shared. There was a reason neither of us had settled down, gotten married, or had children.

  We were supposed to do that with each other.

  My knees buckle and he holds me up, but we begin to slowly sink to the ground. The clink of the bottle rolling somewhere away from us rings in my ears, and the next thing I know, Jason is on top of me. His weight is delicious as he grinds into me, my hands in his hair and his teeth skating down my throat.

  Lust, so powerful it nearly blinds me, sucker punches me to the temple. I’ve never been more aroused in my life, the pleasure of this moment wrapped up in the pure love I feel for this man. His hands find the skin of my waist, and my nails explore under his shirt, up his back. He hisses as he does sinful things to the sensitive spot behind my ear.

  I know what we’re about to do. I could stop it, I’m a taken woman. But I won’t. I’m sick of fighting, of denying something that was heading my way for far longer than I wished to admit.

  And just as Jason is about to start undoing the buttons on my dress, there is the sound of metal scraping on concrete.

  “Jay?” Beau’s voice comes from somewhere up above.

  We both stutter, staring at each with drunk passion in our eyes.

  “Yeah?” Jason calls out, still on top of me and never taking his eyes off mine.

  “There is a drunk and disorderly guest in the tasting room. We need your help.”

  A weight settles on my chest, a metaphorical one, as the reality of what we could have just done really sinks in.

  “I’ll be right there,” he calls over his shoulder, still pinning me to the floor.

  The door shuts, and we’re alone in the silence.

  “Sav …” Jason starts, but we both don’t know what to say.

  “You have to go.” I shrug, meaning this both in the way that he has work to do, and we have to stop this before it continues.

  “Just … I don’t know.” He starts to stand, indecision written all over his face.

  I just shrug again, because what are we going to do? He could tell me to wait for him here, but we both know I probably wouldn’t. We could talk about this, but how do we put this into words.

  So Jason just turns, walking up the cellar stairs and leaving me shivering, everything that just happened playing over on a loop in my mind.

  24

  Savannah

  My phone rings, the tone a different one than a call.

  When I pick it up, I see it’s Perry, wanting to FaceTime. A knife of hot guilt twists in my gut, because not only have I kissed another man now, but I’ve nearly let him inside me. I’ve cheated, physically twice and emotionally so much more than that, and I’m hiding it.

  A lie of omission is even worse than a direct one, my mama used to say. You’re not lying for any reason other than to protect yourself, and it hurts even worse when it eventually comes to light.

  Rolling my shoulders, I paste a smile on, feeling the slime coat my insides. I’ve kept so many things from so many people that I can barely keep them straight, and it’s going to break me soon. Instead of the confident, strong woman I’ve always believed I am, I feel more like the lost little girl who ran off to New York these days.

  My entire world changed the moment I found out that Jason was the owner of the vineyard. That he named it after the two most important women in his life. I was so shocked, still am, about what he’s accomplished and how he handled himself as I tore him down time and time again.

  Jason’s right, that was the measure of a good man. A good person. And it’s not as if I haven’t been half in love with him for almost my entire life. I may have left, may have started a new identity in New York, but I’ve always been in love with Jason Whitney.

  Still, it’s easy to admit that to myself. It’s easy to see how incredible Jason is, how he’s picked himself up in exactly the way I wanted him to before I left all those years ago. It’s another thing entirely to act on it. To leave the cushy life I have in New York. To take a chance on the chaotic, turbulent love that Jason and I have.

  I’m so unsure about everything, as I pick up the call and see Perry’s perfect face appear.

  “Hey.” I swallow the emotion in my throat, forcing a smile.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he rumbles, seeming in a much better mood than he was the day we lost the apartment.

  “What’re you up to?” This easiness between us is what I’ve craved in our relationship.

  As different as the two men in my brain are, I do always know where I stand with Perry. Our relationship, like I’ve said, is one that is logical. I use my brain to feel things for Perry, which is much easier than feeling with my heart.

  “I just got home from the office. It’s been a long, long day. I wish you were here to greet me.” He settles back on his couch in what I like to call relaxed-Perry-mode.

  I notice the gray T-shirt and I’d bet anything that he’s in my favorite navy sweatpants. God, he looks edible when he’s dressed down. And I love this side of him, one only I get to see.

  “Me too.” I sigh and really mean it.

  Shit, I’m in a worse position than I thought I was.

  “Tell me about your day,” he says, propping the camera up on what I know are eight-pack abs.

  We talk awhile about what we did, all the mundane things that made up our days. I tell him about writing a scene in the coffee shop, and my mini-date with Lori to go grocery shopping. The boys talked my ear off while we walked up and down the aisle, though Perry doesn’t think that part is very funny. He talks to me about trades and stock drama and who bought what expensive car this week.

  I listen, trying to get into what normally would be a hot topic of conversation around our dinner table … but I just can’t. And the kids thing is bugging me; the way he brushed the story off with a judgmental raise of his eyebrows.

  “Do you want to get married?” I ask, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I know that I’m saying them.

  I see the shock twist Perry’s handsome, elegant face. “Are you asking me?”

  “No.” I chuckle quietly. “I just wonder if it’s something you see in your future. We’ve never talked about it.”

  Perry’s phone dips, and I know he’s giving himself a minute to think off camera. That pisses me off, his need to conceal emotions before he can give me an answer. Will it be the actual truth?

  It comes back up, and the camera is in a different location.

  “I’ve been a bachelor for a very long time, Savannah. I think I’ve made it clear that I have a strong commitment to you, I’m not sure why there would n
eed to be more than that. Marriage is … outdated. It doesn’t declare how much two people share or what they acquire together. I take care of you, and you take care of me. Isn’t that what a commitment is all about?”

  What I hear is nothing that has to do with love. You know what I hate that people say? Marriage is just a piece of paper. That’s basically what Perry is saying now. And to that, I say, look at my parents who were so in love, they couldn’t bear to be away from each other even for a night. I think they only traveled separately once in their entire marriage, and the three days were all but agony, I remember Mama saying.

  People who don’t actually want to commit say the things Perry is saying about marriage. Because if you truly wanted to make your partner happy, declare things to the world, you’d put a goddamn ring on it so that everyone would know she’s yours.

  I’m too afraid to ask the kid question, because I’m deathly scared that I already know the answer. If that’s his take on marriage, his take on having a baby with me can’t be much more romantic. Could I really stay with someone who didn’t want to have children?

  I feel my blood pressure rising, and all the good will I felt toward Perry on the beginning of this call is quickly disappearing.

  Nodding, I know I’m going to lose it or cry, both of which would not be good in this situation. For all that is swirling around in my head right now, I’m not going to make a decision on my relationship over a video phone call. I have more respect for myself and for Perry.

  “Hey, I’m getting tired.” I fake a yawn.

  “All right. You get some rest. I miss you,” he says, staring at me for longer than he normally does.

  “You too,” I say, before quickly hanging up.

  God, what the hell am I going to do?

  25

  Jason

  The beat of my heart is practically its own techno dance song as I pull up to the house.

  I hate that crap music, but the organ in my chest is pumping so rapidly that I have nothing else to relate it, too. I haven’t seen Savannah in three days, and I’m going insane.