Page 32 of Love You Always

“This is the first time in years I’ve seen you excited about something. Anything. And you deserve to be excited. Even if she’s engaged, it’s the start of you getting in touch with that organ beating in your chest that you’ve ignored for half your dumb life. Maybe it’s a sign you can finally get out from under your dad’s thumb and live your own life.”

I start hiking down, not wanting to get into my “dad baggage,” as Colin calls it. He’s known me long enough to remember how hard I worked to impress my dad in college and how little acknowledgement I got for it. Football player? A shrug. A 4.0 GPA? To be expected. The only thing I’ve ever done that made my dad seem even a tiny bit impressed was learn about wine making. And that was before his dementia took away his ability to run the winery he built from nothing into the powerhouse it is today.

“I’m living my life. I’m just doing it within the constraints of a job I didn’t ask for because my siblings are all pulling their weight and I need to pull mine.”

“Not really the same thing when you do it with constraints.”

A jogger blows past us going uphill and we both shake our heads at the try-hard. “So getting back to your question, the issueisn’t that you miss her—that’s awesome. The issue is that you don’t think she’s a rightful part of your life. How can you change that?”

It’s why I like Colin so much. Where most people see roadblocks, he sees challenges.

“She’d have to break up with her fiancé.” I can’t believe I’m even saying the words. They’re an impossibility.

Colin nods gamely, not seeming to see the problem. “Great. I know you, and you wouldn’t even say the words out loud if some part of you didn’t believe in the possibility.”

I think about that. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should utter the thought that’s been bouncing in my head since I saw Callum and Ella together and had to restrain myself from punching his lights out just to put some daylight between them.

“What if she doesn’t love him? What if it’s some kind of publicity stunt or something she’d walk away from if she met the right guy?” I suggest.

Colin picks up his pace, which he only does when he likes an idea.

“Then I think you need to do everything in your power to find out.”

It’slucky for me that PJ’s office is down the hall from mine, so I overheard it when she scheduled a photo shoot for today withTown and Countrymagazine. From my office window, I see the convoy of cars arrive at noon and I hear the tromp of feet downstairs as PJ shows everyone around. But I see no small blue car, and my heart sinks.

It’s just as well, I remind myself. The more time I spend with Ella, the more time I want to spend with her and that has to stop. Like Jax and Carson said, it’s not healthy to spend this much time thinking about a woman I can never have. At best, it’s a distraction.At worst, it will derail me from doing my job. I can’t afford either one.

The voices fade away as PJ leads the group outside, and I refocus my attention on the pile of papers on my desk. Maybe somewhere in the mess is an explanation for what my father was thinking when he decided it made sense to torch our winery.

An hour later, I’m nearing the bottom of the pile—mostly financial reports and contracts with vendors who will sell our wine nationwide. I need to update all of them and make sure the terms are more favorable next year or we’ll never turn a profit. Right now the margins are so small, that if even one wine distributor decides not to carry Buttercup Hill wine next year, our numbers will tank.

I pick up the phone and dial one of the reps who’s been dodging my calls. It could be that he’s just busy, but he could also be avoiding confrontation. He answers on the first ring, a good sign.

“Hey Joe, it’s Archer at Buttercup Hill.”

“I’m terrible. I owe you a call.”

He owes me six, but I won’t split hairs. “No worries. I’m working on next year’s contracts with Wine House and More Wines, and I want to make sure you get in on this year’s reserve wines before they’re all accounted for.” I sound as friendly as I can manage while holding my breath, half expecting him to level me with bad news.

“Right, right. That’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I need to reduce our quantities for next year. I’m sure you know, there’s less demand industry-wide. Millennials are drinking hard kombucha and mocktails.”

It feels like a stone bottoming out in my gut. It’s one thing to lose business from one distributor, but I hate to think it’s an industry-wide trend. This could be the blow that kills our numbers unless I can find someone else to buy the wine he doesn’t want.

I see Ella walk out of the tasting room and say goodbye to the photographers and journalists who PJ is herding in the other direction. Realizing she’s probably about to leave, my adrenaline shoots through the sky. “Fine, fine. Whatever quantity you need. We’ll work it out.”

Poor business decisions, rushed negotiations…is this what it means to crave another person from the depths of your soul? Fuck me, because I’m already past the point of no return.

I manage to slow my roll by the time I get outside, wandering over to where Ella still stands on the gravel drive.

“Did the rom-com princess lose her car?”

She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss how the flush colors her cheeks or the way she smiles—her real smile, not the one she saves for the screen. “The magazine sent a town car to drive me. And why do you keep calling me that?”

I study her pursed, heart-shaped mouth, the high rosy cheekbones and mass of wild hair that begs to be twisted around a man’s hand while he ravishes those lips, and shake my head. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Ella is fine.”

“Okay, princess.” I’m like the schoolyard punk who can’t stop pulling the hair of the girl he likes.

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