wine while we were cooking.
And at this point, we were also getting really, really good at the whole wine-drinking thing.
“Favorite wine in your arsenal?” I asked as I sliced the eggplant.
Nikos looked at me from where he was draining the potatoes in a colander and lifted one elegant eyebrow. “Arsenal? Is wine a weapon, now?”
I imitated the look he was giving me. “It can be, and you know it.”
“That’s true,” he said with a shrug. “The bottles alone are dangerous, and don’t even get me started on the liquid inside. It can make you do insane things.”
I laughed, thinking about our first night together and how the wine had gotten us past the walls we’d been putting up until then. And then I thought about how much wine we’d drunk since then, and how it hadn’t really done anything to get us past our current hurdle. I thought about that dinner on the mainland, where he’d acted like he wanted something more from me…
And how he hadn’t done one single thing to move that along since then.
And then I put those thoughts away. I might have been wrong about what he was hinting at, on the mainland. And I might have thought it was more than it actually was. Either way, I’d had a wonderful time with him over the last two days, and I wasn’t interested in letting my confusion or hurt feelings ruin what could be our last night together.
“Question still stands,” I said, finishing up the eggplant and laying the slices gently across the cookie sheets that would take them into the oven, to roast until they lost their bitterness.
Nikos considered the question for a moment, then finally said, “The shiraz. It’s the most mellow, I think, and the most satisfying. Doesn’t take as much work to drink.”
“And wine should never be work.” I took a long sip from my own glass, demonstrating that theory, and then watched as he did the same.
The problem, of course, was that neither of us had actually had enough to drink to let down our walls. And no matter how much we drank tonight, something told me that wasn’t going to change. We were both too aware of what tonight was. Of what it could mean.
And it’s funny how having that kind of pressure means that no matter how much you drink, it’ll never actually go to your head. It’ll just make you feel sort of ill, and give you the mother of all hangovers the next day. All the repercussions, none of the benefits.
And here I was getting all glum about it again when I’d just promised myself that I wasn’t going to.
So I moved over to where the potatoes were draining, grabbed the colander, and dumped the potatoes into the big bowl Nikos had waiting for me.
“Help me mash?” I asked him, rolling up my sleeves and giving him a significant look. This was, after all, where so much of it had started. Was he willing to stick his hands into a bowl full of potatoes with me still? Or were we over that?
To my complete pleasure, he walked over, grinned at me, and stuck his hands right in. I stuck mine in as well, and soon we were mashing away, laughing at the feel of them and discussing once more the idea of crushing grapes with your feet and whether it was actually a good idea or if it was better to just let the machinery do it.
And then, of course, there was a pause, as if we’d both noticed at the exact same time that we were covering familiar ground, our hands brushing up against each other in the slick, hot bowl of potatoes.
“I still think you should be here in the fall, when we harvest the grapes,” he finally said quietly.
I felt my breath hitch in my throat at the thought, at the statement, and swallowed heavily, trying to work some moisture back into my mouth before I answered him. Trying to figure out where my voice was, now that my heart had risen up into my throat to block it.
“That will be difficult, considering I’m leaving tomorrow,” I answered casually. “I mean, I’d have to fly all the way back.”
Another pause, and then: “But what if you didn’t have to fly back?”
I frowned and cast a look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Are you planning on flying all of your grapes to Texas? Because that seems… inefficient. To say the least.”
He