Page 38 of Love You Always

Exhaling, I push a hand through my hair. “How much time do you have?” I try to punctuate the question with a laugh, but it comes out more like a wheeze. “I didn’t have great role models for that, and I don’t want to make some kid miserable when I can’t offer the right stuff to be a parent. That’s the short answer.”

She gives me a sad smile that says we’ll agree to disagree about the kinds of futures we envision. “Not my place to say, but I bet you have the right stuff in you somewhere.”

Her assessment of me makes me sad because of how wrong she is, just as it warms me from the inside that she sees something better in me than I’ve got.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “I guess it would be easier to take if I knew it was true love. If I thought he was so head over fucking heels in love with you that he’s waiting for you to come home so he gives you everything you deserve. Knowing it’s not real makes it harder not to kiss you. But not impossible.”

Her eyes close and she gives me a small smile. “Thank you for hearing me and respecting that Callum and I are engaged and we’re getting married and that my plans mean something to me.” Our eyes lock and I see the anguish. The acceptance of lost opportunities.

I nod. “I get it. I understand.” The worst part is that I really do understand. I don’t want her to sacrifice the security of knowing she’ll be able to adopt a child.

I feel something pull at me inside my chest, an ache that comes from inertia. I wish I could be the guy she needs in her life—the husband—who will show the twisted, mistaken world that Ella Fieldstone can offer a child the stability it needs, but I can’t do it. Not that she’s asking in any shape or form.

“I should go. That town car driver’s been waiting around all afternoon.” She stands and tests her balance. After a small wobble, she takes a step away from me and smiles. “Thank you for the tour.”

“Best part of my day.” It’s no exaggeration. I shouldn’t be playing hooky from work responsibilities, but it feels damn good for a change.

Her eyes widen and the corners of her mouth pull into the hint of a smile. “Mine too,” she admits quietly, sneaking a look to the side as though someone might have heard. But we’re alone.

My eyes rake over her, noting the uncertainty in her eyes that slowly settles into purpose as she meets my gaze with confidence. Like a fire ignites behind them. Her cheeks flush. Her lips look ripe and full.

It would be so easy to close the gap between us. So easy to take what I’ve started to believe is rightfully mine even though I have no goddamn reason to think it.

But she doesn’t allow it. Instead, she turns and walks away.

CHAPTER 17

Archer

I don’t even makeit back to my office before my phone starts blowing up.

“Hey,” I bark at Graham, who goes on to tell me that the grower we’ve been negotiating with just sold the majority of his cabernet grapes to a competitor. So while I’ve been pursuing a futile romance with a Buttercup Hill client, even more of our business has gone to shit. Another piece of evidence why I should never distract myself with anything other than work. Especially women.

My heart feels like it’s been hollowed out and laughed at. For the second time, I actually believed I might have a chance with Ella Fieldstone. What a joke.

“You need to get laid, and quick,” Colin says, commandeering my truck toward the Dark Horse pub at the outskirts of Napa a couple hours later. I hear a quick succession of “heck yeah” and “seriously” from the peanut gallery behind me, aka my brothersand Ren, Beatrix’s fiancé. They’ve all but kidnapped me after I told them I’d be skipping their guys’ night out in favor of reading a book.

“I need to be left alone,” I grumble, looking out the window and knowing there’s not a chance of these guys staying out of my business when they think they know better than me. The dark hills to the left are scarred from fires a few years back, reminding me that I still don’t have any idea why my father would hire someone to torch our own land. I know he’s not making sound decisions, but this goes beyond moving numbers around on a balance sheet. He had to have thought things through, and it makes me sad and angry that I may never know what he was thinking. If he was thinking at all.

“I call bullshit on that,” Dash says, surprising me because he’s always game for an adventure but he rarely goes on the attack. “I mean, get laid or don’t, but you definitely need to be out with us instead of brooding at home.”

No one says anything specific about Ella, which is probably because they all know me well enough to understand that I’d jump out of a moving vehicle rather than talk about catching feelings for another man’s fiancée. It’s only because they’ve shown that bit of sensibility that I decided to throw on a hoodie and leave the house. That, and they showed up, let themselves in with Jackson’s spare key, and commandeered my truck. Assholes.

We reach the bar in fifteen minutes, and I follow them inside, taking a quick scan of the room to see if there’s anyone here I know. I recognize a few women sitting at the bar because they were friends with someone I dated years ago, but if they remember me, they probably won’t have nice things to say. Their friend called me a litany of names, all involving fear of commitment and general bad behavior, and hell, she was probably right.

I duck behind Colin and move toward the corner of the bar. “I’ll grab us a table.”

“What do you want? Beer? Shot?”

“Beer.” I make my way to the table and slide into the seat facing the wall. A few minutes later, everyone joins me and we get into an intense conversation about hockey and the Oakland Otters, where Ren is an impact player. They’ve been having a good season, despite a rough beginning, but they’re a long-shot prospect for the playoffs. “It might take another year before we have the chemistry to get there,” he admits before downing half his pint in one slug.

“But it’s coming together. I can see a difference in this half of the season.” I’m not blowing smoke. The team’s record is better, sure, but ever since my sister got back together with Ren, I’ve seen every game and studied the team like it’s my job.

“We’re better, yeah, but we lost too many games early on. We’ll get there.”

I finally start to relax, at home in the dark space with guys who have my back, talking about sports. I only look over my shoulder once to see who else is in the bar. Otherwise, I’m focused on the guys who are here to help me forget about Ella for a few hours.

Ironically, after thirty minutes, I’m the only one who’s still sober. Sitting at our table in the corner of the dark bar, I have a perfect view of the mating rituals that define the human race. Boy are they pathetic.

---