of it, or she won’t, but nothing I do, nothing the family does, is making any difference.
“You know what?” I stand up and grab my purse. “It doesn’t matter what I say or how hard I work on your vineyard. You’ll still insult me and denigrate everything I’m trying to do.”
“What you’re trying to do is steal my vineyard right out from under me!”
“I’m what?” I’m so shocked I can barely speak. I stand there for a few seconds, reeling, trying to breathe. “You…what do you want me to do? Shall I go back to Seattle? Do you want Sara to run the vineyard instead?”
“Now you want to turn my Nuccio’s vineyard over to a child who’s just out of diapers? I don’t care anymore. You’re going to take my vineyard, and there’s nothing I can do about it. That was your plan all along. Well, you’ve won. I hope you’re happy. Get out!” Tears fill her eyes, and she twists away in her chair, glaring out the window.
“I will!” I storm towards the door.
“And don’t come back!”
“Why would I?” I yell from the doorway. “If you want to see me again, you can call me and ask nicely, and be prepared not to insult me while I’m here. Otherwise, I’m out.”
I make it out of the rehab facility before I start crying. I cry all the way home. My eyes are swollen, my nose is stuffed up; I’m a disgusting mess.
Donovan is in the kitchen, cooking up a grilled cheese sandwich with tomatoes. My absolute favorite. He’s taken to greeting me at the door with treats whenever I come home from a visit to Aunt Fernanda. Last week it was Nanny Sue’s cookies.
“How did it go?” he calls out. I sniff hard and fish in my purse for some tissues, and blow my nose. It makes a honking noise louder than Rocco’s entire flock combined. Donovan turns around and looks at me. “That bad, huh?”
He gathers me into his arms and hugs me, and I sink into his comforting warmth. There’s a hard tension behind the hug.
“What is it?” I ask, and I take a step back. He lets his arms fall to his sides.
His whole face radiates regret, his eyes crinkling, mouth pursed. “I have to go to home for a couple of weeks because we’re on the verge of losing this deal. I’m leaving on Monday.”
He called it home, and didn’t even notice. My stomach ties itself in a knot.
I nod. He’s leaving. Of course. “I understand.”
“Hey.” He runs his thumb over my lower lip. “I’ll video-call you every day. And you’ll have to put me on video so I can talk to Aceto and Ducktape.”
“Don’t call me if you’re too busy.” I lift one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.
“Don’t retreat and shut me out just because I have to go on a normal business trip.” His voice is gently chiding. “We’ve already discussed this. It’s not me leaving you. I will be back before you know it.”
Part of me just wants to beg off and go sulk in the bedroom, or even better, the winery’s office. But I made a promise to myself and to him to be better about communicating, and I’m going to keep it.
“It’s just that you said you were going to fly home. Like being here in Greenvale is just a temporary thing. That kind of hurt. And it doesn’t even make sense that it hurts, because we already know that you’re going back to Los Angeles forever after we sign the property deal.” My insides quiver. I’m raw and open and naked.
“Hey. No, no, no. I’m not just walking away from you and Greenvale once the land is sold.” He loops his arm around my waist. “Home is where you are. Once I get past this deal and I can think straight, we’ll sit down and we’ll figure this out. I promise you.”
Home is where you are.
Those words fill me up like warm soup on a cold day, a balm to my aching soul.
“Thank you,” I say, with a wavery smile. “And thanks for putting up with my crazy.”
“There’s nothing crazy about expressing any concerns that you have. If I’ve done something to upset you, I want to know. Now sit down with me, eat this grilled cheese, and tell me what happened with your aunt.”
“Only if you eat some too. And don’t start with me about the dad bod thing. Someday, even if it’s decades from now, you will have