Page 102 of Sweet Escape

My mind scrolls back over the social media posts I’ve been sharing recently, trying to remember what I’ve put out there and what Memphis has seen.

“I wish I could tease him about stalking me,” I say, giggling to myself.

“You could if you called him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me. I told him it wouldn’t work and then left him after he poured his heart out.”

“My brother poured his heart out to you?” she asks, chuckling quietly. “Jesus, Vivian. You two are so meant for each other. The way you draw each other out is just ... wild. You’re a watercolor, and he’s an Excel spreadsheet. It doesn’t seem like it’s gonna work at first, but then it does.”

“I think you need to learn better metaphors.”

“Meh, I like it.”

I laugh, my heart a lot calmer than it was a little while ago.

“He does draw me out,” I say, deciding to share what’s on my mind instead of keeping it to myself. Trying to do the thing that is so unnatural to me. “He makes me feel like I can be me, but like ... an authentic version of myself.”

Murphy hums. “That’s so romantic.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking it over. “Do you think if I tried, I’d be able to get him to forgive me?”

“As your best friend, my honest opinion is that he’s madly in love with you and would forgive anything. But as Memphis’s sister, I’m going to tell you that you better really fucking mean it if you try.”

Blowing out a breath, I know what the right decision is. What theonlydecision is.

Doing whatever it takes to get Memphis to forgive me. To take back what I said in his driveway. To show him who I really am, and ask him to love me exactly like that.

Because that’s the way I love him.

I would be a fool not to acknowledge that there are still very real hurdles in our way—his job and mine, the distance, my fears about relationships. But it feels evenmorefoolish to give up on a man I’ve fallen in love with without ever really trying.

“Okay,” I say, letting out a long breath, excitement beginning to simmer in my veins. “I have an idea. And I need your help.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Memphis

The weather is turning. Temps dip into the low fifties in the evening, and the fall foliage that makes wine country such a desirable place to visit during the autumn is emerging. October brings a boom to the vineyard and the restaurant, and with the surge of guests, we expand our tours and hire a few more waitstaff.

We’ve made it through the hardest part of the harvest, and now we’re booking down the road at a steady clip.

Which should feel amazing.

And it does.

In some ways.

There are a lot of things to be grateful for.

My siblings’ excitement about the restructure and how they’ve jumped in with both feet. The profit the restaurant is bringing in and the impact it’s having on our bottom line. The positive energy around the vineyard that was missing for far too long.

Even though I still have a ton to do, there is a lightness to my work that I haven’t felt in ... maybe years?

Which is why it’s infuriating to realize that the heaviness I’d been carrying around on my shoulders for so long has simply relocated to my chest.

I feel like a fool, still pining after a woman who made it clear that this was only ever supposed to be a bit of fun. That things between us could never work.

And I’ve tried every mental game possible to remind myselfof the realities.

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