“Sweet potato with extra cinnamon butter. House salad,” Marco said.
“Same. That does sound good.”
“Alrighty. I’ll put that in.”
“Seems awfully nice for an ex,” I said, taking a sip of wine.
“We parted on good terms. I’m not always a total asshole, you know.”
“I do know that,” I said, meaning it. “But you sure do go out of your way to act like one, with your family especially. Why is that?”
His sigh was so heavy, I knew there was more there. But he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. So I changed the subject. “Ok, let me tell you about my family drama. I talked to Dad today when I got back from the brewery. Took your advice and told him how awful Jerry was this week. That he basically wanted nothing to do with any of my ideas or treating me like a partner in any way.”
“And what did he say?”
Marco looked at me so intently, I realized...he never glanced down at his phone when we were together. Ever. It wasn’t even on the table. I liked that about him.
“Same as you. That we should buy him out.”
“See? I give good advice.”
“No comment. I was surprised, actually. Jerry is a good friend of his. And it was Jerry’s idea to buy the vineyard in the first place.”
“He may be a good friend, but you’re his daughter.”
“One he basically abandoned for a new family.”
“Which he realizes was the biggest mistake of his life and is trying to atone for it.”
“I guess. He offered to approach Jerry. And even to get a loan to help me do it.”
“What did you say?”
“Hell no. I don’t even know if it’s what I want yet. If anyone were to get a loan, not that Jerry would ever agree to sell, it would be me. Not my father.”
“Fair enough. Not to change the subject, but I’m not sure I mentioned how sexy you look tonight.”
“Marco,” I warned.
“Not touching,” he lifted his hands. “Just the truth.”
“Mmm hmm. The same truth you offered to our waitress and a million other women before me.”
He didn’t hesitate. “You’re different.”
I laughed so hard the people across from us looked our way. “Sorry,” I murmured, and then turned back to Marco.
He wasn’t laughing. “I’m serious Rae.”
“Sure you are. And you’ve only said that, what, a dozen or so times? Maybe more?”
He waited for me to stop laughing. To stop smiling. To turn as serious as he was at that very moment. When I did, he looked straight into my eyes.
“Never. I’ve said that precisely zero times. Because it’s never been true before.”
And for a split second, a heart-thumping, mind-stopping second, I actually believed him.
TWENTY-ONE