The press they'll receive will bring us even more business, so I couldn't pass it up.
While walking with him, I try to pay attention as he runs through next week's schedule, but there's only one thing on my mind, and I need to talk to her. We have to slow this thing down between us. I think. Fuck, I don't know.
Leonard rattles on just as we round the corner, and Raya comes into view, standing comfortably next to my grandfather as she cradles a bottle of wine. Figures he'd give her a bottle. I was going to do that, but he likes stealing my thunder.
Putting the confusing mess of unaddressed emotions to the side, I make my way toward them.
"And that's Leonard Mars, my lawyer who keeps all the licenses, contracts, and legal things running just as smoothly as Harry keeps the farm," Granddad says, seeming entirely too chipper.
Raya already has him wrapped around her finger, it seems. In fact, I think my entire family and extended family love her. Love—damn that word.
"Vineyard," I say to irritate my grandfather, forcing a smile.
"It's a farm with a vineyard on it," he retorts, swatting at me.
I walk over to give Raya a small kiss, not wanting to let her know about my inner war. The last thing I want is for her to pull away from me,
so I need to sort my shit out without worrying her.
"I gave the girl a gift. I told her I might not ever get this chance again," Granddad says, piquing my curiosity.
My stomach clenches when I see what she's holding, and I fight back the first wave of nausea. Raya's smile falters when she gauges my reaction, but I can't help it. This is messed up. What the hell did she say to him to make him give her the merlot? Surely she didn't tell him that she loves me. That's not like her.
"The '93 Merlot? Have you lost your mind?" I ask Granddad, turning around to glare at him, but he's smiling as though this is just an ordinary, meaningless bottle of wine.
"My mind is one of the few things I haven't lost yet," he says playfully, but the warning is there.
I know better than anyone that there's no sense in arguing with him. But why is he doing this?
It's then I see the tremble in his hands, and the soft words I overlooked come back and resonate. I might not ever get this chance again. The chemo is apparently not working as well as I thought, and he sure as hell won't tell me anything about it. This is too much to deal with right now. Especially in front of Raya.
Swallowing hard, I wrap an arm around Raya's shoulder, ready to leave so I can get home and call Dad. He'll find out how bad it is.
"We're about to head out. We've got class tomorrow, but call me if you need anything," I murmur through strain, ignoring the way Raya tenses against me.
"Just worry about getting good grades and taking her out on special dates. There aren't too many like her. I can already tell," he says, hiding the pain that is probably gnawing at him.
Then he winks at Raya, making me look down at her, confused as to how the hell she wowed him so much in such a short span of time. I'm forced to drop my arm off her when Granddad hugs her, shocking me. He's about as uncomfortable with touching as I am—usually I'm his only exception.
I see him say something to her, but I don't know what. Raya walks on out as I take my turn to hug him.
"I think you should have given her a less valuable wine," I murmur when Raya is out of earshot.
I grab a crate and some packaging materials as Granddad snorts in objection.
"Boy, that girl is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you. You'd better wise up and see it before it's too late. There are many things in life you never get a second chance at. Believe me when I say I know. Now go. Take that girl home and be the man I taught you to be."
He claps my back as though he just spoke words of wisdom. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell happened in the short time I left them alone.
Raya has the trunk popped, eyeing it uncomfortably while hugging the bottle of wine when I make it outside. I take large strides to make it to her, clutching the crate much too hard.
"I've got it," I say, my tone more clipped than I mean for it to be.
I take the time to wrap it up tightly in the bubble-wrap, and then I bury it perfectly in the straw. She watches me, but I can't look at her right now. My mind is still reeling and needing answers.
"I can't believe he gave you the '93 Merlot. What did you say to him?" I ask, biting back the anger that is close to surfacing.
"I didn't tell him anything. I don't want the wine, though. You should keep it. After all, it would mean more to you than to me."