Page 65 of Because of Me

Throwing the towel I was holding over my shoulder, I cross my arms and turn to her. My face morphs, mouth straightening and brow furrowing. “Doing what?”

“You’re allowed to complain. Just because we are busy—whichisgood—doesn’t mean you can’t be tired after working all day. The rest of us got half a day off before we came in. The lunch crew left when we arrived. But you’ve spent your entire Christmas Day here. Feeling exhausted is to be expected, really.” She reaches into one of the low-lying bar fridges and pulls out a bottle of sparkling water. “Take this, go sit down for ten minutes.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. And you will. Even the boss is allowed to take a breather.” Shoving the bottle into my hands, she twists me by my shoulders and begins guiding me towards my office. “Anyway,” she adds when we are nearly there, “your cousin wants to talk to you. I’ll send her in.”

I sit down behind the desk, stretching my legs out in front of me as I hold the cool bottle against my forehead. My eyes close, and I don’t even notice Cassidy enter the room until she raps her knuckles on the desk and clears her throat.

By the time I pry my eyes open again, she’s already seated in one of the armchairs. A near empty glass of Rosé dangles from her fingertips.

“Thought you were asleep,” she says before tipping her glass towards me. “I came in to say congratulations before we head home.”

As she sips down the dregs of her drink, I open the glass bottle from Kylie. The bubbles tickle my throat, but the cool water hydrates me. I keep drinking until I have to stop to breathe.

“It’s been a busy day. Merry Christmas, Cass.”

“Not just for today though, for the whole year. All of this”—she waves the now empty glass around by the stem—“it’s really something special. Alma would be proud.”

The tips of my ears begin to tingle, but I do my best not to let my suspicion show. She’s probably just making a general comment based on the winery’s name. There’s no way she knows my grandfather named the place after my grandmother. No dots she could have connected to lead her to the conclusion that I inherited the place from that grandmother … right?

Even trying to reason away my irrational fear I know how ridiculous I’m being. There are more than enough clues for her to put together the pieces.

“You know you didn’t have to come.” I choke out.

Cassidy frowns, placing the wine glass on the table and folding her arms over her chest.

“I know, but we wanted to. I’m proud of you, Noah. For all of this.”

“You know, don’t you?” It would be better if she did, although embarrassing for a moment at least then I’d be all out of secrets to keep.

She nods, an all-knowing smirk slipping across her face. “You’re almost as bad at lying as Amira is.”

“Since when?”

“You let your grandmother’s name slip a while back. Then a few weekends ago a young woman introduced herself to me as the event coordinator. Callum confirmed it when I told him it was weird.”

I should have known not to trust him. Love is like that. There are no secrets between couples, at least not for long.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Leaning back in the chair, Cassidy hooks her legs up underneath her and rests her knees on the armrest. The heel of her boot looks like it’s cutting off the circulation to her thigh, but she settles into the position.

“It’s really dumb. I was … worried.”

She presses her lips together and gives a sharp nod. “I get that.”

“Noah?” My heart flips at the sound of Amira’s voice. She ducks around the doorway, pulling the sparkly fabric of her sleeve away from her arm.

“We should probably get Maisie home to bed,” Cassidy chirps, standing. “She’s done well for a five-year-old, but I’m surprised she hasn’t fallen asleep on Callum’s lap by now.”

Amira enters the room but stands off to the side.

“Thank you for coming,” I tell Cassidy after I’ve come around the front of the desk. We share a sibling-rivalry style hug, and she turns to leave. Pausing before walking out, she leans in to whisper something to Amira.

Once Cassidy has left, pulling the sliding door closed behind her, Amira steps tentatively towards me.

“Hi,” she whispers, lifting her hand in an awkward wave.

We’ve kept in touch, multiple times a day, but after our date I gave her the space she said she needed. My skin crawls with the need to touch her, hold her. To tell her how I feel. But I hold back, leaning the backs of my thighs against my desk. I can’t stay still though, wringing my hands in front of me and shuffling my feet.

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