Page 87 of Love You Truly

“Yup,” I huff back.

Then we continue in silence.

An idea has been rolling through my brain for a few days now, and I keep trying to ignore it. But ideas can be persistent, and this one won’t let me go…I want to know if Dash is in this marriage to secure land or grapes from me. He’s never explicitly said it, but the conversation from the night of the gala still eats at me.

“What if Autumn Lake doesn’t sell you grapes for the first year? Do you have other…options? Because I have an idea…” I float the thought quietly as Dash and I hike up a hill at sunrise. Holding flashlights, we’re moving quickly, each of us huffing a little bit, trying to beat the sun to the top so we can watch it rise.

Maybe it’s not the best moment to broach the subject because I’m too winded to give Dash the rest of my explanation. I have a mostly formed idea on a short-term solution that could work to Buttercup Hill’s benefit. And my own.

“What I’m thinking is…” I have to take a breath before I continue up a particularly steep area of the hike, which feels like stone stairs instead of a gentle incline.

Timing is not my strength.

Dash doesn’t give me a chance to finish explaining. Halting his movement, he stops, mid-incline. Since I’m hiking right behind him, I nearly slam into his back. Instead, I manage to get my footing on the trail, but I reach a hand out to steady myself.

When Dash wings around to face me, I almost lose my balance again.

“What?”

The sky is lightening by the second, now a serene blue that’s somewhere between day and night, but Dash’s features are going darker in front of my eyes.

“We have a problem. Or I do. With Felix.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, they blaze hot blue. “If I hear that guy’s name one more time…” He seems like he’s counting to ten. Or maybe fifty. He paces in a circle, his flashlight beam spotlighting tufts of dried-out mustard plants.

“I’m working to get rid of him, and this is how I can do that.” I’m still winded, but the look on Dash’s face makes me feel gut-punched at the same time.

“Seriously, Mallory, what the hell?” He says it so quietly that the words almost sound sweet, but they still pierce me in the quiet of the early morning.

I hold up my hands. “Wait. Let me explain.”

“You’re reneging on our deal now? After all I’ve put myself through for you?”

Hearing the word “deal” hits me like a slug in the gut. Of course I’ve known all along that we made a deal to help each other, but we’ve evolved past that point over the past couple of months. He loves me. Right?

After all I’ve put myself through for you.

He means our marriage. It’s a deal. And I’m ridiculous for thinking love would alter the equation.

I finally catch my breath enough to explain. “It’s not just about Felix. Smelling that smoke and realizing how easily our livelihoods can burn to the ground has gotten me thinking. I need a backup plan for my business plan. Maybe that means being less reliant on a single crop or coming up with rental agreements for pieces of our land. Either way, I need to get it right before I start parceling the land and planting vines. It doesn’t have to ruin your plans.”

The corner of his lip twitches as he tries to maintain his equanimity. “How-how does it not ruin our plans? We need more cab grapes, and I told you that. That was the deal, Mallory. That was the whole point of this fake marriage.”

The words sting, so I fight back with my own, even if I know I’m making things worse. “Was it? Because I thought it was about your tarnished reputation.”

“Seriously? Fuck all of this.”

His words cut me to the bone, but I try to unhear them for now. He’s just confused and grasping at something to say.

My ideas tumble out. “There are other growers who can provide cab grapes. Have you talked with Graham? I know for a fact he’s overproducing because he offered to sell to me for the first year or so while our vines get established.”

“You’ve talked to fucking Graham?”

“I talk to lots of people, Dash,” I say quietly. I don’t like the way he’s escalating blame here.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I take a step away from him. It’s either that or slug him. “What?”

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