Page 118 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

“That’s a relief.” Sumner’s eyes dropped to my sketch for a moment. “Have your parents tried reaching out to you again?”

Before, the mere mention of my parents would cause my mood to plummet. Now, it just caused me to sigh in annoyance. “This morning marks the fourth time this week.” When they’d learned that probate would be completed soon, they’d started reaching out again. It’d started early in July, when the will became public knowledge once it entered probate. Once they learned that the daughter they’d disowned would soon inherit everything they’d ever wanted. “Apparently, they don’t know what the wordwaitmeans.”

“They should learn what the wordnomeans,” Sumner muttered, his eyes tightening. “You’re more generous than I’d be.”

I regarded him fondly, mostly because his own annoyance on my behalf was so endearing. “I see it as I can finally be done with it all. I don’t want to hang onto it just for the sake of hanging onto it. I’d rather sell it and get them off my back.” I set my pencil down and leaned forward over the table. “But that doesn’t mean I have to give them a discount.”

Sumner grinned. “Of course not.”

Really, if my parents couldn’t inherit all of Nancy’s fortune, they wanted two things: the land Massey Suites sat on as well as the country club itself. Despite the factthat I was permanently banned from the Alderton-Du Ponte Country Club, I would inherit the land and building when the will came out of probate. Since it was a membership-run facility and not a privately owned company, the board of directors still could bar my entry—and they did. I’d gone back and forth with Mr. Franz and Sumner, and I decided that would be another thing I’d let go.

But not to the vultures at the Alderton-Du Ponte, though. No, I’d be donating it to a charity, just like Nancy always threatened she’d do.

The snobby termites that’d moved over the years in had ruined the beautiful place Nancy built; I didn’t want to hold on to rotted wood.

Nancy wasn’t there, anyway. We held onto her ashes long enough to bring in pond management specialists, and they took the once swampy pond in Nancy’s backyard and restored it back to its former glory. The pond Nancy spent her days looking out over, watching deteriorate, was almost a serene oasis now, with the algae cleared and new plants rooted along the edges. The pond specialist even went as far as stocking fish, which could be seen underneath the glittering blue surface.

“We probably won’t be back here for a little bit, huh?” I asked with a somewhat sad tone, glancing around the yard. The morning sunlight rose and shimmered beautifully on the pond. “We don’t have another long weekend until Thanksgiving.”

“We can still come back here and there,” Sumner assured. “It’s only an hour’s flight. We can be here and back in NewYork in a day.”

“Both of us will be tired with work.”

Though it’d been a lie before, Sumner truly did work at a small startup now, hired on as a project manager for a small marketing agency. It was a role he enjoyed—and sheepishly admitted he enjoyed it more than being a secretary. “It wasn’t you,” he’d insisted. “I just feel like I’m doing something meaningful now.”

“And watching me wasn’t meaningful?” I’d teased, to which he gave another small smile.

“No,” he’d replied, “it wasfun.”

Sumner tipped his head at me now, his eyes soft. “I’ll never be too tired to visit Nancy.”

My chest ached, both with warmth at his words and sorrow. It was such a strange combination, but one I’d gotten used to navigating. So much had changed in just a few months. Even though Nancy’s absence left an ornery-lady-sized hole in my chest, moving forward hadn’t been nearly as impossible as I’d always imagined. I knew it was because I had a hand to hold now.

I’d once told Sumner that I was afraid of a life outside of my golden glitz and glamour, too afraid to lead a life without the comfort I’d always known.

What if it’s better?he’d asked.That other life.

And it was better. Of course it was. There were hardships and struggles, and the unknown felt a whole lot scarier, but it was better. I no longer felt like a little kid under the directions of her parents, but an adult. One who lived with her boyfriend in New York City, who rode the subway and ate street pizza and walked hand-in-hand with Sumner in Central Park. One who pulled all-nighters and woke up early to go to work.

Navigating this “other life” together with Sumner was far, far more amazing than I could’ve dreamed, and it felt like my life was truly beginning.

I pushed the metal chair away from the patio table and pushed to my feet, stretching. “What time is it?”

Sumner checked his clunky watch. “A little after ten.”

“And our reservation at Pierre’s isn’t until eleven-thirty, right?”

Sumner watched me approach, his eyes already growing more guarded. “Right.”

I laid my hands on his shoulders and looked down at him. His hands rose to rest on my waist, holding me in place. Even through the fabric of my shorts, my skin lit up with the touch. That, accompanied by the wide, tender way he looked up at me, obliterated my self-control.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his awaiting ones, taking a second to memorize the moment. I always did, even unintentionally. The very first time I’d kissed Sumner, I hadn’t been paying attention at all. now, I made sure to mentally file the moment away each time. The scent of him, the sound of his small gasp, the feel as his lips adjusted to mine.

But then I’d melt into the moment, and I’d stop focusing on memorizing and start focusing onfeeling. Sumner’s hand now slipped from my waist around my back, pressing me closer to him. Each pressure of his fingers sent a spark through me, and I combed my fingers through his hair, hoping to elicit the same feeling in him. And it worked, if the sharp breath in through his nose was any indication. Sumner kissed me eagerly, matching each tilt of my head and glance of mylips.

I broke away for a breath. “We could always skip our reservation,” I murmured, curling my fingers firmer into the hair at the back of his head. Feathery soft.

“No,” he answered at once, equally breathless, but didn’t release me from his arms. “I’ve been told not to keep you from your avocado toast.”

---