Page 129 of Drunk on Love

She should have just been happy for him, like he’d wanted her to be; congratulated him about the interview; asked morequestions. And then, later, she could have asked him what this meant for the two of them.

Why didn’t you tell me?she’d whined, like Luke owed it to her to discuss every single thing with her. He didn’t! He hadn’t wanted to tell her!

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He hadn’t wanted to tell her. She wasn’t important enough for him to want to tell her this major thing in his life, about how and why he’d changed his mind so quickly, so completely. He hadn’t trusted her to talk to about something like this.

They’d only been together for a month; that wasn’t that long. Just because she’d gotten herself in so deep, so fast, that didn’t mean he had.

But it felt like it had been more than a month. It felt like they’d been together since that very first night.

She wanted to call him, apologize, start over. But when she thought about some of those things he’d said that morning, she stopped herself. No. She had too much pride for that. Plus, if they could have such a big and terrible fight like that after only a month, there was no hope for their relationship. This should be the honeymoon period, right?

She was at the winery; she couldn’t think about Luke. She had a million things to do today, little things to wrap up after the party; there were guests coming to the tasting room all day, she already felt guilty for how late she was, she had to be on, bright, smiling, welcoming, all day. She couldn’t let Luke distract her.

Like he’d been distracting her for months. Ever since that first night, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. She’d thought about him every single fucking day since then. He’d put her off her game. Yes, the party had gone okay, but just think how much more organized she would have been if he hadn’t been around,doing things like causing her to zone out in the middle of the day thinking about him and making her decide to stop working at six instead of eight and bringing her dinner and giving her massages and putting her in the right frame of mind to write the newsletter so people would open it and come to the party and—

She had to stop thinking about this. She needed to get her head in the game, forget about him, at least for the next few hours while she was at work. She could wallow later, at home.

She went into the winery through the back way, so she could avoid talking to the guests in the tasting room. It usually put her in a good mood to walk through the tasting room in the morning when there were already guests there—she got to greet everyone, smile at them, see how much fun they were having. It usually gave her a little boost to start her day. But right now, she needed some time. She’d go in later, say hi to whoever was there, make sure the staff knew she was around if they needed her, thank them for their hard work yesterday. But she needed a moment to turn herself back into Margot Noble, co-owner of Noble Family Vineyards, and not the Margot who sobbed in the shower this morning.

She sat down at her computer and flipped it on. She automatically checked the sales for the last day, like she did every morning.

Wow.

Either people had gone home from the party and decided to order even more wine, or all of the posts on social media—including the ones about Porter Eldridge—had boosted their profile, or something else, but their sales had risen dramatically last night and this morning, even excluding the wine they’d sold at the party. And a bunch of people had joined the wine club overnight.

Whatever had inspired this, she’d take it.

She spent the morning replying to emails and calls from VIPs and friends of hers and Uncle Stan’s who had been at the party and wanted to congratulate her, or who had missed it and wanted to apologize. She managed to convince most of that second group to make it up to her by buying wine. She got off one of those calls with a smile on her face. See? That was better.

When she went out into the tasting room, Taylor and Marisol both grinned at her and beckoned her over to meet the guests. She laughed and flirted and complimented them and recommended other wineries for them to visit, and they all laughed and smiled along with her. Okay. She could do this. She loved this. She didn’t need Luke.

She walked over to Taylor and Marisol, both pouring new flights at the bar, before she went back to her office.

“Hey, you two. You all, the whole staff, did an incredible job at the party yesterday, and I’m so grateful. Take a day off this week or next—paid, I’ll cover your shifts. Just let me know what day.”

Taylor glared at her.

“Shouldn’t you be the one taking some time off?”

Margot waved that away.

“I will, I will. I’ll plan an actual vacation soon.”

Eventually. Once she had time and mental space to plan something. When that would be, she had no idea, but she’d figure it out someday.

Taylor turned to Marisol.

“What day works best for you?”

“Is next Friday okay?” Marisol asked. “It’s my birthday, and I wasn’t going to ask, but...”

Margot smiled at her.

“Of course it works! That’s perfect—have a great birthday.” She turned to Taylor. “I’m not letting you off the hook here.”

Taylor sighed.

“Fine, I’ll do this Thursday. My sister wants me to go wedding dress shopping with her, which... whatever, but now she won’t be mad at me.”

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