Capturing Hearts - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,1
caught, and not wanting to be impolite. “Oh, yes!”
“Good. I like your hat,” I tell her. Her hands fly up to her wide-brimmed straw hat and she smiles, pleased.
“Charmer,” Nicole whispers to me.
“No reason Brendan should ruin their day,” I whisper back.
Nicole bites her lip and keeps walking. From the stiffness in her body, I know she’s getting really tired of this. She’s not alone.
For the tasting of the winery’s signature wine, the Elevage–a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot, we learn. Brendan goes through the motions, swirls the glass when we swirl, sips when we sip, but he’s about as much fun to be around as Sylvia Plath.
When he asks, “What’s in this?” for the third time, I set down my glass hard, not able to take it anymore. “Jesus, Brendan. Just call her!”
Brendan registers surprise, and looks around the irritated faces. He scowls and puts his glass down, too. “I’m not going to call her.”
“Babe, can you give me a few minutes? I’m just going to take Brendan outside and smack some sense into him.”
She nods, confused, glancing to him and back to me. “Sure. I’ll be here.”
“Excuse me, everyone. Please don’t wait for us.” I walk past Brendan and he follows me out without a fight.
When the sun hits us, I motion with a jerk of my digits to get away from the front door, get a little privacy. With his arms crossed across his chest, he walks with me and mutters, “What?”
I take my middle finger and flick his forehead. “What the fuck are you doing, B?”
“Ouch! I told you what happened!”
“Yeah, you did, but would you rather be right… or happy?” He glares at me. “Fuck, you are the most stubborn guy I have ever known. Look, she lied to you. But do you remember that girl? She wasn’t just Goth, she was a baby. She was hiding behind all that stuff. Do you remember how shy she was? Did you ever notice her sitting all by herself outside Drama class?”
“I didn’t take Drama,” he mumbles, but I can see he’s listening. “You remember her better than I do.”
“Well, that tells you something right there! Why would she want to bring up the past? What would make a girl like that want to drudge up those days? Look, you and I are used to dealing with women who are a lot more… worldly, for lack of a better term. She wasn’t that. I didn’t recognize her either, but now that I know who she is…looking back? I remember her very well. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a virgin back then.”
He registers this, and looks away, silent as he thinks about the possibility. “Okay, I hear you. But it doesn’t change the fact.” He squints up at the sun, his mouth a thin, grim line. “Besides, what does it matter? Her ex is back in her life, and I fucked up royally.” He looks at me and there is so much pain in his eyes that it takes me aback. “Mark, it’s fucking killing me. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
I nod, my patience back now. “You know what I’d do? I’d give that Italian guy a fight. When do you think this feeling,” I poke him in the chest just over his heart, “is going to come along again? A woman who changes your world, that’s the woman you fight for.” He stares at me, not speaking, so I add, “Either that or you prepare yourself for an empty life. Take your pick.”
Walking back into the winery, I leave him to make a decision. I hope he makes the right one, but the ego is a powerful thing. And we men have it worst of all.
Chapter Two
Brendan
Knockout: closed and locked. Bobby: raising an eyebrow at my refusal for another drink. Tommy: same.
“Nah, I’m done. You go ahead, Tommy.” I lay my empty glass on the bar, my head just cloudy enough to feel better, and my heart is numb no matter what I do. Drink, don’t drink. Work, don’t work. Sleep, stay awake staring at a clock. All of it is the same.
He takes a swig of a newly poured draft and gets back to talking with Bobby about The Walking Dead. I barely hear their debate about which season is the best as my hand reflexively goes to the folded up construction plans that Annie left in my bedroom. I picked it up before I came here