Page 18 of Corkscrew You
“It’s for your own good. The winery he managed in Bordeaux? He got engaged to the owner’s daughter. They met at Harvard, apparently, and he followed her to France. It’s how he got into wine in the first place. They were together for nearly four years before getting engaged, and then, week before the wedding, she dumped him.”
“Oh,” is my not-very-intelligent response. “Poor Nathan.”
“Yes and no,” says Chiara. “Yes, it’s tough luck to be left at the altar. But don’t you get what thatmeans?”
“Of course, I don’t. I’m a moron.”
“He’s on therebound.” Chiara clears it up for me. “That’s why it’s agoodthing that he did not kiss you. You donotwant to be rebound girl, no matter how hot the guy is.”
“Is that why you didn’t flirt with him at Bartons?”
“Correcto. Guys who’ve been dumped – they compensate by becoming overly competitive. They put their dick in charge and set out toprovetheir manliness. Women become like pig buildings in an Angry Birds game, there to be knocked over. Highest score number wins.”
“That metaphor’s as confused as I am.”
“The fact Nathan didn’t jump your bones is a good sign that he’s a decent human being,” Chiara says. “But you should be wary. Rebound guys are more trouble than they’re worth.”
“So I should definitely just keep it professional?” Even though Chiara has given me yet another reason not to become involved with Nathan Durant, I have to check, just to be sure.
“Absolutely,” says Chiara. “Polite, matter of fact, focused on the work. After all, saving the winery’s your priority, isn’t it?”
Yep, I’m sure. I think.
In the background, I hear a man’s voice. He sounds foreign. Maybe German? And impatient.
Chiara calls out, “I’m talking to mygirlfriend!”
To me she says, “That’ll keep him guessing.”
“Who’s he?”
But Chiara’s done advising. She wants to go play “hide the bratwurst” with the German.
“Stay cool, Shel, and you’ll be fine. Focus on what’s important.”
“Love you,” I say.
“Love you, too.” And she’s gone.
There’s no point going back to sleep, but instead of thinking thoughts that are strictly professional, I think about how brokenhearted Nathan must have been to be jilted. The only time I’ve felt truly emotionally devastated was when Dad died. But though grief for him still punches me in the gut, it never makes me feel to blame. Whereas I’d take a bet that perfectionist Nathan is still beating himself up over what he’d see as his own failure.
I know what it’s like to want to prove yourself. I can only hope he’ll let us prove it together.
* * *
Chiara said to play it cool but my nerves are being very uncool this morning. I know Nathan’s here because I heard the pickup pull in. He’ll be in the office, I guess, where I can’t delay being any longer.
The coffee’s boiled. I pour two mugs and carry them out. Professionals start the day with caffeine, or if they don’t, they should. Plus, I hope he takes it as a sign that we can reset and start again, with no weirdness between us.
His back’s to me. He’s staring at the calendar on the wall, on which I’m supposed to write important dates but don’t because everyone at Flora Valley knows what they are anyway.
Hearing my approach, he turns. Wow, he looks a little rough. Wonder what he got up to after the event that shall nevermore be mentioned?
“Uh, I brought coffee,” I say.
Top marks for being obvious, but whatever.
There’s a slight hesitation. But then he says, “Thanks.”
