Page 52 of Romance Languages

I stood in the canned goods aisle trying to be my best self. I strummed my fingers against the shopping cart. Buy food. Make food. Stick to routine.

Nope.

“I need some wine,” I said aloud.

I strolled out of Market Thyme and walked over to In Good Spirits next door.

In Good Spirits was like a library with tall, intimidating stacks, but instead of books, they had bottles. I felt like Belle inBeauty and the Beast. Bonjour, indeed!

What was I in the mood for? I needed a wine that was dry, sharp. Something to take the edge off and stop me from thinking about…

Seamus.

He was one row over, looking lost as ever.

Maybe if I blushed enough, I’d blend into the row of reds behind me.

“Hey.” He waved, giving me no time to duck.

“Hi. What a surprise to see you here.” In Good Spirits was my safe space. Seamus was invading my safe space with his charm and sex appeal and fitted ringer tee.

“I pass this place all the time but I’ve never gone in. When I needed wine in the past, I just went to the supermarket.”

The supermarket wine selection was sparse and depressing. People raved about Market Thyme’s three-dollar wine, but it tasted like expired grape juice someone scooped out of a dumpster, in my humble opinion.

“You don’t want supermarket wine. In Good Spirits has the best selection.” I waved to the rows of wine. I didn’t peg Seamus for someone who opted for wine, though. He was a crack-open-a-brewsky kind of guy.

He looked around, very much overwhelmed. “I just need a bottle of wine.”

He grabbed the bottle closest to him, a thin bottle of prosecco.

“What do you need it for?”

“I’m going to a housewarming party with Greg and Ethan. They tasked me with picking out a bottle of wine to bring as a present.”

“You’re bringing prosecco?”

“Is that bad?”

I seesawed my head, trying to be diplomatic.

“I just grabbed it because it was next to me.”

Prosecco was essentially off-brand champagne that tried and failed to replicate the magic of champagne. I might prefer the three-dollar wine to that.

“It’s not bad, but I don’t know how many people like it. If there’s going to be a few wine options at the party, do you want yours to be the one that doesn’t get opened?”

Seamus shook his head emphatically no.

“You want yours to be the one that people rave about and snap pictures of the label so they can buy it for themselves.” That had happened with me on multiple occasions, not to brag. I might not know how to have sex, but I knew how to pick wine.

“So, which one do we choose?”

“First, we have to think about the person. Whose house are you warming?”

“I don’t know this person that well. She’s friends with Greg and Ethan. I’m mostly going for the food.” Seamus rubbed his head bashfully.

“I’d do the same. You’re going to wow your friend of a friend.”

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