Page 74 of Love You Always

“Someone has to do the job.”

“Sure. Someone. Best case, someone who wants the job. Not you.”

“He picked me.”

“Because he respects you and knows you can carry on his work and grow the business, but guess what? It’s not up to him to decide your life for you.”

I’m about to argue back, but her words hit me differently than all the other well-meaning lectures I’ve been getting lately.

“I know that. Or at least, I thought I did.”

“Go on.”

This time, I get a full breath in and let it out slowly. “It’s complicated. You know that.”

It’s really not.

“And all this crap about you not wanting to be a father, what’s that?”

“It’s the truth, or at least it was.” I say the words, but I feel like they lack the conviction they had before I met Ella. Before I let the idea of being a parent—with her—edge its way into my thoughts and stick there.

Maybe I do have hopes and dreams.

“Right. Past tense. Now you have someone worth changing your mind, someone you love.” Beatrix was never one to mince words. “I see how you are with Fiona. We all do. You were meant to be a dad. I can’t understand how you don’t see it yourself.”

I swallow hard, not wanting to say the words out loud, even though they’ve been swirling in my brain for as long as I can remember. They’re as true as anything I know about when grapes are at the perfect time for picking.

“He wasn’t there for us. Work always came first. And when I look at how I am with my job—always chasing deadlines, always a day late and a dollar short, always worried about letting youguys down—I don’t see how I could possibly be everything Dad was and also be a good father. As Dad was not.”

Now it’s Trix’s turn to inhale a deep breath. She nods as the air leaves her lungs in a cloud through the morning chill. “It’s why we want you to leave the winery.”

Her words hit me like a shard of glass through my gut. “What? Why? You think I’m fucking it up?”

“No! We think you’ve saved the place from ruin six times over. But look at what it’s doing to you. You’re miserable and you’ve walked away from the one person who clearly makes you happy. You’re giving up on love because you think you’d be letting us down?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, hear this. The only way you’re letting us down is by walking away from the chance to be happy. Do you think any of us wants that?”

“We need to keep the winery going.”

“Fuck the winery.”

I startle at her harsh words. She’s never seemed to want anything except our family business and the inn and the restaurant. Surely, she doesn’t mean it.

“Seriously. Dad isn’t aware, and you don’t owe him anything. You’ve already preserved and grown his legacy in ways that would make him proud. So now, you owe yourself. Go back to LA, get your start-up going again. Or fanboy my husband around the country and be the Otters’ equipment manager.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Then talk to Ella. Give the idea of a life with her a chance. Open yourself up to the idea of being a dad. You’d be amazing, which is a pretty big feat, considering who you had as a role model.”

Her words hit me in a way they haven’t before. “He was tough on you too, huh?”

“He was toughest on the ones he loved the most. Guess maybe that tells you something.”

I nod because she’s probably right.

And because life—or our dad—has an ironic sense of timing, both our cell phones start beeping at the same time. We look down to see the same message from Dad’s nurse, telling us she called the doctor to the house. Dad’s taken a turn.

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