Page 157 of Love Among Vines

Jade inhaled sharply.

Everyone turned around. Jade bristled. There, standing just around the corner from one of the pieces he helped to inspire, was Rett.

Come home? Comehome? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

He held a bouquet of sunflowers, and he was wearing one of his stupid three-piece suits. Penny sat on his foot, panting happily. Traitor.

“Did someone say hors d’oeuvres?” Gemma said loudly.

There was a murmur of agreement, and they all disappeared. Soon, it was just Jade and Rett standing in the room surrounded by her art.

Anger flared like a struck match. This was her night. A lifetime had passed since their last conversation. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He reached for her, but she stepped back and briefly fantasized about delivering a roundhouse kick to his chest. But that might damage one of her paintings.

His face fell. “I needed to see you. I would have come sooner, but I was trying to figure out how to apologize. I tried to call, but?—”

“I blocked you. For good reason. What makes you think I want to see you after everything you said to me? Do you know how hard it was for me to open myself up to someone again? Only to be told that I have ‘nothing’ by the person I decided to move five hours away for?”

Her angry air quotes almost knocked the flowers out of his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jade. Of course you wouldn’t want to see me. I made the biggest mistake. Something about seeing my brother propose to Alexa just broke me. You were trying to comfort me, and I lashed out. I just kept thinking about seeing her every Christmas on my brother’s arm.”

Her hostility dropped a millimeter. Hehadgone through something incredibly traumatic seconds before their conversation.

“Well,” she said, “you clearly still have feelings for her if your reaction to her getting engaged was that strong.”

He shook his head. “I promise you, I don’t. I don’t care what she does. I just didn’t want her to be part of my family. I didn’t want to see her ever again. Probably the same way that you never want to see me again,” he muttered.

“But none of that is an excuse,” he said. “What I said was cruel and untrue. There’s nothing to fix, and you don’t have nothing. You have everything. Youareeverything, exactly as you are . I’m the one who has nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow. His winery and lakefront property would beg to differ.

“Nothing that truly matters,” he clarified. “And the worst part is, I haven’t been honest with you.”

Oh, good.

“What do you mean?”

“I broke the rules of our agreement. I fell in love with you. And it scared me.”

She inhaled sharply. The jagged edges of her anger softened.

“For the first time in a long time I could see everything—kids, a fall wedding, a little studio space for you in town. A painting shed in the backyard,” he said with a sad smile. “And then I thought about what it would be like to have it ripped away—if you decided to go back to New York, or if things just didn’t work out. I’m afraid of what you mean to me. Of what you make me feel. You have a hold on me. I’ve never let anyone in the way I let you in, Jade.”

She looked away, preferring to study her own brushstrokes. “I don’t know what to say.”

He grabbed her hand, but this time she didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ve thought a lot about what you said before—tomorrow is never guaranteed. I know it was stupid to come here on your big night and interrupt your triumph. But if I didn’t tell you now, in person, I would have regretted it every day for the rest of my life.”

There was a rustling in the corner, and Tom appeared, dragging the corner of something large and flat. Had the gallery forgotten one of the decorations?

Slowly, a miniature version of the mural she had painted for Margie crawled into the room. But it was different—abstract blobs in a multitude of colors spanned the surface.

Her brain was jumbled. Nothing was making sense. All she could see were the flashes of color around her. Rebirth.

“I haven’t been at the winery all week,” Rett said. “I was working on a project. The whole town helped me, actually. And I took your homework seriously. I enrolled in pastry arts classes. You inspired me. I don’t know exactly what I’ll do with it, butI know I want to learn. I clearly have a long way to go.” He gestured at the miniature mural.

“You made this?” She took a step closer to the mural. Each spot of color was a tiny dessert. Orange macarons, tiny blueberry pies, dark chocolate brittle. Desserts of all colors and types spread over the scene. Some of them had uneven shapes and edges, but the resemblance was undeniable. It must have taken days. It was beautiful. Imperfect and beautiful. He had found his dream.

---