Love You Always (Buttercup Hill #5)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

E lla

“It won’t take that long, I promise.” I shuttle Callum along, looking over my shoulder every thirty seconds.

Next to me, I hear Callum inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly. I know him well enough to understand that it’s just the way he breathes, rather than some appreciation for the scents in the air. Other than that, the only sound is the crunch of our feet on the gravel and the chirp of bluebirds in the vineyard. I can picture them perched on the houses Archer pointed out to me the last time we walked among the vines. Callum inhales again, reminding me I need to keep my focus on him—on our wedding—and not the nervous twinge in my heart over the winemaker who seems to be occupying more and more of my thoughts.

That needs to stop. I’m probably just nervous about the wedding, thinking about all that has to go right in order to clear the way to adoption. I haven’t gotten to where I have in my career by losing focus when it matters. And right now, all that matters is being able to walk into that courtroom with a husband on my arm and proof of a stable home life for a child.

Beatrix drives up in a golf cart and offers to shuttle us to the restaurant. “Oh, that’s not necessary. I like the walk, and that way I can show Callum around.”

“Ella, if we’re being offered a ride, I’ll take it. No reason to walk if we can ride in style.” He’s in the golf cart before I have time to argue. I take a casual glance around before I slide onto the seat next to him, but Beatrix leans in and hands us each a printed menu, blocking my view. It’s just as well because I should not be looking for a certain winemaker who treated me to the best day I’ve had in months.

Beatrix hops into the front of the cart and steers us along the path toward the restaurant. “Your guests will enter along this drive, and we’ll direct them past the vineyards to the restaurant. It gives people a sense of the winery and the relaxed vibe here, so they’ll arrive at the wedding location with a mood already set,” she tells Callum, who’s barely listening. His thumbs move across the screen of his phone, but he has the good sense to grunt occasionally, so Beatrix thinks he’s listening.

I nudge him. “Do you want to look around?”

“Not really. This is your show.”

“It’s not a show. It’s our wedding, and you were the one who insisted we invite the press,” I whisper, throwing an irritated glance his way. He’s oblivious.

Turning away from him, I take a deep breath of the lavender field Beatrix is gesturing at. “So pretty,” I acknowledge, compensating for my fiancé who couldn’t care less.

My eyes snag on the kitchen garden, where Archer and I were walking when he called me a rom-com princess. “Do you think I’m a rom-com princess?” I ask Callum with a smile, trying to rekindle a connection.

“What?” At least he looks up from his phone .

“Someone called me a rom-com princess, which I thought was kind of funny. Do you see me that way?”

“What way?” He’s back on his phone tapping away.

“Never mind.” I try to quell my jittery pulse and the nervous anticipation of seeing Archer. It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t be craving sweet gestures from a grouchy man who isn’t my fiancé.

A minute later, the cart sweeps past the lake, and I look out for the swans that seemed to be keeping watch over Archer while he walked along the other day. No swans. No Archer.

Stop looking for him. You’re here with your fiancé. To plan your wedding.

Maybe if I tell myself enough times I’ll feel more excited about it. Beatrix pulls the cart into a parking spot outside Butter and Rosemary, a white, sprawling two-story farmhouse with ivy-covered trellises running along the path that leads to the red double doors at the front. Rosemary hedges and wide planters filled with more lavender and succulents flank the gravel pathway. I inhale a deep breath that makes me feel like I’ve entered a spa.

I think about how lucky the Corbett family is to live here and experience this every day. My eyes close for a moment and I imagine myself waking up here in the morning and walking onto the balcony of my bedroom, looking at the sun rising over the vineyards and inhaling lavender and rosemary in near silence.

“I could live in a place like this.” I sigh and tip my head against Callum’s shoulder, willing him to be a better guy. I know it’s not fair to want or expect it when that’s not what our relationship is. Grabbing his hand, I play the part of selling our relationship, the idea that all of this is real. I know Callum likes me, but I feel myself willing him to pretend to love me, at least in front of other people.

“Seriously? Out here in the sticks?” Callum says while pointing a finger toward the vineyards where the grapes hang in the shade of the vines .

“See how the grapes are growing beneath the canopy of leaves? That way, the fruit is shaded from the sun.”

“Um, okay.” He goes back to his phone.

“Do you not find it a little bit interesting?” I glare at his busy fingers tapping on the screen, not even caring that they have the talent to play a guitar.

He looks up. “Sorry, but no. I don’t have a hard-on for grapes.” He puts an arm around me. “Just have one for you.”

He flashes me that country boy grin that has women around the world throwing their cowboy hats at his feet. It moves a of piece my heart. How could it not? At the end of the day, I’m the girl with the bad reputation who believes in love, even if I can’t find it and only have a fake fiancé to show for it.

I let errant thoughts of Archer fade away and try to focus on what’s in front of me—my wedding and my future. And then adoption.

“Works for me.”