Page 11 of A Vintage of Regret
"True," his dad said. "But you have that furrowed brow your mother says I get when I'm either questioning something, or don't believe something. What's really bothering you?"
"I don't know." Bryson shook his head. "Whatever Sean wanted to discuss, he said it was personal, and it felt urgent. And now, it's bugging me."
His dad finally took a long, slow sip, then set his glass down. "You're hurting. He was your friend, and you once cared a great deal for his daughter." His dad lowered his chin. "You carried a torch for that girl since you were in grade school, and I don't think you ever got over her."
"I have, but Riley was always going to leave," Bryson said without a drop of bitterness. He’d released that a long time ago. But the ache in his heart still pulsed. She was the one that got away. The one he'd always remember. The regrets still lingered in the vines. The one that he couldn't quite stop comparing everyone else to, which was why he was still single, and his marriage had blown up. Though, that relationship was doomed from the get-go. "That first year I was at college, while she still had one more year of high school, we could barely have a conversation without arguing. We broke up and got back together a couple of times."
"I remember." His dad leaned forward. His tone soft. Kind. It was almost as if he’d wanted to spare Bryson past pains. "It wasquite the rollercoaster ride for everyone. However, we always figured the two of you would work it out."
Bryson groaned. It was rare for him to talk about that time in his life. When Riley had left, his parents begged him to open up about what had transpired, but he’d closed himself off and focused on two things… his studies… and freaking Monica. What a mistake. The nail in the coffin. Poor taste, but fitting.
"It was a long time ago," Bryson said softly.
"Maybe, but you're still holding onto it like some battle scar, and don't try to tell me you're not." His father raised his hand. "You married the wrong woman right out of college. The rebound girl. Not to mention, she used to be Riley's?—"
"I'm well aware of who Monica was and what happened to our marriage. I’m reminded of it every time I see her or even run into some of her friends that used to be our friends, like Kim, Stephanie, and Mae. But we don't need to rehash that, and it's not what's bothering me."
His dad arched a brow. "Yeah, well, you haven’t had a girlfriend since your divorce."
"Not entirely true." But it wasn't false. He dated and had one girlfriend who’d lasted two years, but she complained that she was competing with a ghost—and it hadn’t been his ex-wife. He’d had another one that lasted a year. She bitched that he lived at home with his parents, and he didn't want to move out. In the end, all she'd wanted was the family name.
Since then, he hadn't bothered much, and he still lived at home with his parents. But he had an entire wing to himself. Not to mention they lived in a freaking mansion. People got lost in his parents' house.
His two sisters lived there. And Devon, the oldest, lived just down the street.
"Are you going to get to the root of the problem?" his father asked.
The fire cracked softly in the hearth, casting flickers of light over the built-in shelves and wine-soaked history lining the walls.
Not that Bryson wanted to continue with this dangerous topic, but he did want his father's insight.
"I called Riley," Bryson said, holding his father's unwavering gaze. "She's coming back."
That got a longer pause. His dad raised his glass to his lips as if he were trying to hide a smile. But he couldn’t disguise the crinkling around his eyes that suddenly glinted with amusement. He sat forward slightly. "You two haven't spoken since she left town. How'd that go?"
"It was interesting. Weird. But good." Bryson took a slow, long sip. Liquid courage. The familiar warmth spread through him, steadying his nerves. It worked. "I didn't think I'd ever hear her voice again."
"And how did that feel?" Sometimes, his father enjoyed treating conversations as if he were peeling an onion.
The question hit deeper than Bryson expected. He’d been trying not to analyze the phone call, not to pick apart every inflection in Riley’s voice or the way his heart had hammered against his ribs when she’d said his name. "Like someone split my chest open and poured twelve years right back in." He hadn’t meant to be that honest, but there it was—the truth he’d been avoiding.
"I've never understood what happened between the two of you." His dad waved his hand. "I know. She wanted to travel and see the world, but you'd never leave this winery or give up any time at school. You had a goal, and nothing was going to get in the way. You were both so stubborn." His father’s words weren’t judgmental or harsh. If anything, they were laced with a tinge of regret. "You both made decisions, dug your heels in… and well, the rest is history."
"It was bigger than that, Dad."
"Most parents worry about teenage love. Kids getting in too deep, too young. Your mother and I never worried… until you went off to college and you started to have problems. Your sisters did tell us some of the gossip that was going around school."
"Most of it was just that."
"But you ended up with Monica anyway," his father said, voice softer now.
Bryson stared into his glass. That time in his life had been filled with confusion, anger, and a need to move past the deep hole loss had created. "We loved each other, but it wasn't enough. It was never going to be… enough. In the end, the only way for us to survive was if I left Stone Bridge. If I did that, I doubt we still would've made it, because I would have wound up resenting her. And that's a truth I know deep in my bones, or I would have chased her years ago." Bryson raised his glass. "This winery is part of me. The dirt, the grapes… It's always been my future. Letting her go was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but it was right for both of us."
His father's eyes softened. "Sometimes, we have to let things go to allow them to come back."
Bryson snorted. "Sometimes, that's just cowardice dressed up as wisdom."
"Interesting hearing my words repeated back to me," his father whispered. "Sounds like you made my point about still being hung up on that girl."
