Page 79 of The Close-Up
I quietly take in the family dynamic, how Simon seems to be the caretaker and peacekeeper during conflicts. It makes sense given he’s the oldest and their dad isn’t in the picture. That’s probably why he’s such a good therapist—he’s empathetic and tries to resolve conflicts as he sees them arise. Inside I soften even more to him.
Amy hands me a glass of Riesling and I take a sip as two food runners drop off dishes of food. Soon the table is crowded with two bottles of wine, a charcuterie board, stuffed mushrooms, bruschetta, and chips with artichoke dip.
An hour later my stomach is full from all the food and my face is sore from smiling.
I catch Simon eyeing Amy as she finishes her fourth glass.
“Pace yourself. You’re still getting over that stomach bug, remember?”
She sticks her tongue out at him. “I’m aware.”
“I feel your pain,” I say to her. “I have an older brother too.”
I tell her my older brother spent our childhood bossing me around.
“Is there some club where they train older siblings to do that?” Amy teases.
Simon says, “Haha,” before finishing the last of the artichoke dip.
“They mean well. Still insanely annoying, though.” I internally applaud my blood pressure when it doesn’t skyrocket as I glance at him. A bit of joking about what we were all like growing up has gone a long way in lessening the hotness factor from before. I can look at Simon without breaking into a hot sweat. Way to go, me.
“Only younger siblings understand what we go through,” Amy mock-whines.
“Should we start a club where we drink wine and vent about it? No older siblings allowed.”
“That’s it. We’re officially bonded.” She leans her head on my shoulder. I pause when I feel just how hot her skin is. When she sits up I notice her cheeks are flushed too.
But before I can say anything, Miriam lets an “oh dear” slip as she squints at her phone.
“What’s wrong?” Barbara asks.
“Just got an alert. There was some horrible multicar pileup along the freeway on the way from here to San Francisco. The entire roadway is closed for the night.”
Miriam’s worried gaze flits to me as I sigh, processing what that means. I’m stuck in Napa.
“Well. Shoot.” I’d swear in normal circumstances, but I want to keep it clean in front of Miriam and Barbara.
Barbara reaches over and pats my hand. “Oh don’t you worry, honey. You can stay with us. The rooms at the Rancho Caymus Inn are so spacious. Mom and I are sharing a room, but you can stay with Amy. She’d be happy to have you, right?”
When I look over at Amy, I’m shocked at just how pale she is now. She runs her palm over the front of her romper, lingering on her belly. She offers a forced smile. “Of course you can stay, Naomi. You don’t mind a bit of a mess, do you?”
Simon scoffs. “That’s putting it lightly. What she means is, you don’t mind sidestepping piles of clothes and not having any counter space in the bathroom, right?”
“I survived sharing a bathroom with you in Tahoe,” I tease. “I think I’ll manage.”
Simon winks at me, and my throat goes dry for the briefest second.
“You sure it’s okay, Amy? I don’t mean to impose. I can always get my own room.”
She shakes her head as Barbara speaks. “Nonsense. You’re practically family now. No need to spend all that money on a room at the last minute.”
My chest warms at the kindness in her voice, how she and everyone in Simon’s family have been so welcoming.
I’m in the middle of thanking her when Amy darts up from the table. “Gotta run to the restroom.”
She speedwalks toward the building, reaching for the door as it starts to open. The people coming out hold it open for her and she darts in.
“I told her to take it easy on the wine,” Simon mutters.
