Page 25 of Maybe Yours (Love & Wine)

“Super fucking cool,” I respond back. “And did you know the other apiary has a queen now?”

“Wow. Who would’ve thought it would be this easy or this fucking cool?”

“I’m not sure it’s always this easy. From what I’ve been reading, we have the right climate and we had an already established colony with all the apple trees. I’m not saying we don’t like totally kick ass, I’m just saying we need to slow our roll and not brag too much.” I wink at him and that smile is back, but this time it makes my heart flutter, my breath catching in my throat.

I swallow hard and look away for a few seconds, pulling myself back together. All we have in common are these bees and I shouldn’t read too much into his excitement. It isn’t over getting to spend time with me, but rather what we’ve accomplished together. While I’ve always loved my job, this added bonus has made coming to work even more fun.

I don’t have a lot of friends here and oddly enough, I now consider Tommy one of them. When you work for a small business and you didn’t grow up in the area, it’s hard to make friends as an adult. It’s not that I’m lonely or that I don’t enjoy Lauren and Ellen’s company, but they have Jack and Will, and sometimes I think they think I’m too young to want to hang out with them. Like I’m out clubbing all night or letting guys do shots off my belly in a bar.

This beekeeping with Tommy has created a hobby for both us and if I’m being honest, I feel happier because of it.

“I was reading that as the summer goes on, we need to make sure we keep wasps and hornets away because they’ll eat our bees,” Tommy says, quietly. We’ve learned to quell our excitement and keep our voices down around the bees. It turns out, they startle easily and then they sting Tommy. Never me.

“What? Those fuckers. That’s like cannibalism and really gross. No one’s eating our babies,” I assert and Tommy laughs.

“You’re pretty fucking invested in this, huh?”

“Um, like you’re not? Did you name the new queen yet?” I ask, hands on my hips, head cocked to the side.

“I don’t name them,” he replies derisively as he shakes his head.

“Jane Mancini?” I prompt. “I’m pretty sure that’s the name of the queen in apiary number one.”

“It’s unit one of the Melrose Hive,” he announces with confidence. “Get it right.” He rolls his eyes in a playfully mocking way that makes me love this flirty banter we have going on.

“I can’t even with you right now.” I start to walk away, tossing up a dismissive hand, but it’s hard not to laugh at how invested both of us are, not only in the beekeeping but also in this friendship.

“Later, Pen,” he calls out.

“See you, Tom.”

The day goes by quickly, the tasting room is packed with people, but it keeps me busy. Around three o’clock Oscar and Olivia slip in, letting Ellen finish up some bookkeeping. They make the day go by even faster, entertaining the guests with their silliness and truly spot-on comedic timing. It’s unreal to me to think two nine-year-olds could be this funny.

Olivia sidles up next to me at the bar top just as I’m pouring a few tasting portions, leaning over and giving the bottle a sniff after I put it down.

“I think I should bring my teacher a bottle of this,” she says casually as she hops up on a stool next to me, crossing her leg over the other and leaning her elbow on the bar. She examines the label, eyeing it with reverence and looks as though she’s contemplating something big.

“Why would you bring your teacher a bottle of wine?” I ask, genuinely curious about her answer. “You’re nine. That’s not exactly the type of gift you’d bring a teacher.”

She lets out a hard sigh of annoyance, flipping one of her blonde braids over her shoulder. “Well, if you must know, today was a hard day. Johnny Stuber wouldn’t stop shouting out answers and it got so annoying that Mrs. Thompson had to stop what she was doing so she could take some pills she keeps in her desk.” She lets out that sigh again, shaking her head with a bit of a pursed lip. “And sometimes when we come back from lunch,” Olivia pauses, looking up at me and keeping her voice low, she says, “she looks like she’s been crying. Kinda seems like she needs this bottle of wine, right?”

“Certainly sounds that way,” I chide in agreement, but tell her to check with her mom first. No way I’m handing a bottle of wine to a nine-year-old even if she is growing up on a vineyard.

I arrive home around seven, after finishing up my shift, I checked on the bees and went for a run. I grabbed dinner from a sandwich place down the street and I’m now parked in front of the TV, my phone resting on the arm of the couch and a glass of what I now like to refer to as “the tired teacher” wine on the table beside me.

I look over at my phone, wanting to message C.Grizwold, but holding out just a little longer, because even though we chat every day, I don’t want to seem desperate. We’re nearing the one-month mark and it always feels like that’s when my relationships go to shit. It’s when the true colors start to show and I learn what a douche bag the guy is. It’s usually when the cheaters start to cheat or the assholes start to bring out the snide remarks or when the thieves start to steal. Yep, took my iPad and weirdly a pair of used Louboutin’s I got on Poshmark.

I feel like I’ve come a long way since then. Still technically single and holding firm to a part of the pact I made with myself about not moving in with someone after a hot second.

But I grab for my phone, still riding my high from the great day I had, I message him.

Me: Hey! How was your day?

It only takes about two minutes before he’s answering me and I’m once again smiling from ear to ear. I’ve never been the best judge of character, but it feels like this app is helping with that. It helped me choose someone who isn’t just here because I’m cute and tiny and have a great ass. It feels like there will never come a time when I put C.Grizwold into the asshole category.

C.Grizwold: It was really good. How was your day?

Me: Mine too.

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