Page 80 of Sweet Escape

I’ve never imagined what it would be like to have someone hang out in my office while I’m working. My first assumption is that it would be distracting.

And it is, a little bit.

But I find that the longer she’s there, the more I enjoy it.

The little sounds she makes when she’s read something interesting.

The way she reveals how her mind works when she asks a question.

And I find that in the lulls of her silence, I’m waiting for her to speak again, eager to hear what else she has to say.

“Do you want to go get lunch?”

Her head pops up in surprise.

Hell, I’m surprised the words came out of my mouth as well.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” she replies, a smile stretched wide across her face. “Right now?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry and I figured ... you have to sit and eat at the restaurant before you leave town, right?”

As soon as I say it out loud, I wish it weren’t true. But I ignore the tightness in my chest at the fact that she’s leaving tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Jesus.

Vivian drops her legs from where she’d been sitting sideways in the armchair and returns her book to the bookshelf while I save and close out the things I’m working on.

The restaurant is in full swing for a Saturday lunch service when we arrive.

Murphy’s eyes widen when we walk in together.

“Hawthorne, party of two,” I say, keeping my face as serious as possible.

My sister laughs and grabs two menus. “Like I’m going to add you to the waitlist.” She looks to Enid. “Take them to table nine, please.”

Enid smiles and motions for us to follow her through the restaurant and over to a two-top situated against the wall of windows looking out to the back patio and the vineyard.

“Your server will be right over,” she says before going back to the front.

As Vivian peruses the menu, I’m hyperaware of her. I zero in on the little details, trying to absorb everything about her before she goes, like the graceful way she rests her chin on the back of her hand, how she adjusts her hair by bringing it forward over one shoulder.

It’s unfamiliar, yet I can’t help it.

“Murphy said this whole restaurant was your idea,” Vivian says, finally looking up at me with a smile. “That you thought of every detail. It’s a very impressive space.”

I bob my head, pride swelling in my chest, both at the way my sister has been talking about the restaurant and at Vivian’s perception of it.

Even if Murphy complained about me quite a bit to Vivian over the years, at least there was some balance to it, right?

“Thank you. It was definitely a very complicated thing to get going.”

“What made you decide to open a restaurant in the first place?”

I blow out a breath. “I was looking for a way to bring in more business, something other than just selling wine. The price point of a wine bottle can only sustain so much growth, so if we wanted to be more profitable, we needed to look at different ways to do so.”

“Seems like it would be a massive ordeal to open this place, right? I mean”—her head tilts back and she looks at the building—“it’s gorgeous, and you’ve clearly made top-notch choices with ... everything.”

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