Page 38 of Blurred Lines

"Don't avoid the question, dear," she snaps, sharpness momentarily replacing the saccharine tone. "That place isn't good for you. Your father's presence will haunt you in Emberton."

Like she needs to remind me. Of course, she doesn't mean the good memories—the afternoons with Dad at the lake, teaching me to fish, or the way he'd laugh so hard his eyes would water. She means the other kind—arguments, empty promises, and the disappointment that had seeped into my bones after all those years of waiting for him to choose me.

My voice tightens. "Look, I need to figure out what I'm doing with the vineyard, with everything. It's complicated."

"Don't you dare get involved with that place, Emily." Her tone grows even sharper. "That vineyard … your father … it all ruined our lives. Just let it go. Come back here where you belong."

As if on cue, my phone buzzes with another call. Flora.

"Mom, I gotta go. Flora's calling. I'll talk to you later." I end the call before she can protest. The relief rushes through me like a cool current, washing away some of the tension. Flora is the balm to my mother's poison.

"Hey Flo," I answer, my voice softer. "What's up?"

"Wherever you are and whatever you're doing," Flora chirps, her cheerfulness makes me smile despite myself. "Drop it and come meet me for lunch."

"I wish it were that easy," I mutter, the heaviness creeping back in.

"Look, meet me at The Olive Tree in an hour. We'll stuff our faces until all this nonsense starts to feel bearable, okay?" Her voice is lined with that steel I've always relied on.

"You're on," I manage, already envisioning a table full of delicious food and a glass of crisp white wine to ease the nerves.

I book a cab. Flora's right; food always helps. We'll sit in the sunny courtyard, the scent of rosemary and basil swirling around us as we hash this out. I'll tell her about Caeleb, Finn, and Silas. Maybe once I say it all out loud, some of this tangle will start to make sense. Or maybe I'll eat my weight in olives and forget about everything for a little while.

It takes me an hour to get to the designated spot.

The Olive Tree's courtyard buzzes with a gentle symphony of laughter and clinking glasses. I spot Flora immediately, her vibrant red dress a blazing beacon amongst the earth-toned crowd. I weave through the tables, a wave of relief washing over me as I sink into the chair across from her.

"You look like you ran a marathon," Flora quips, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Where were you? Did you begin the treasure hunt without me?"

I snort. "Worse. I gave in to the guys and one of them basically called me a spineless coward."

Flora's mouth drops open. "That's … wow. Who would dare?—"

A waiter appears, his smile wide and welcoming. "Ladies, ready for some deliciousness?"

My stomach growls in agreement. "Starving," I admit, reaching for the menu.

Flora orders first: "We'll start with the hummus trio—the classic, roasted beet, and that spicy harissa one. Oh, and a big plate of the dolmades with extra lemon. Then, I'll have the grilled octopus with capers and fingerling potatoes. And Emily, you have to try their lamb moussaka, it's heavenly."

I glance at the waiter. "I'll have the moussaka as well, please, and a glass of the sauvignon blanc."

He nods, scribbling notes as Flora continues, "We'll take a side of the herbed pita, and to finish … their baklava. Trust me on this."

Once he leaves, I lean forward, curiosity piqued. "How do you know the menu so well?"

Flora flashes a sly grin. "Remember Tony, my high school sweetheart? His family owns this place. We spent half our dates tucked behind those olive bushes, trying to steal kisses between serving tables."

I let out a surprised bark of laughter. The tension that gripped me earlier starts to unwind. "Of course you did."

Flora shrugs, a delicate gesture that belies her usual fire. "Now, talk to me."

I sigh and begin speaking, giving her as much as I can without breaking down. Flora listens, punctuating my words with nods and tutts of empathy. Finally, she reaches for my hand, her own warm and strong. "Emily, you're so easy to love. If you give it some time, they will see that."

Her words, innocent and profound, slice through my carefully constructed defenses. I blink back a sudden sting of tears. "It's not that simple, Flo."

Before she can respond, the waiter returns with a flourish, setting down a colorful array of dips and a basket of warm bread. The aroma of garlic and lemon hits my senses.

I sigh heavily. "Can we eat first?"

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