Chapter 32
Mallory
It’s dark outside, but that’s the point of a sunrise hike—a little fumbling around with headlamps in anticipation of a warm yellow dawn.
The darkness makes me contemplative, and the steep hill of the hike means I’m not talking. It’s strange to walk next to Dash for this long in silence, but he’s been wanting us to do this hike for a while, so I finally gave in this morning.
I know why he’s been pushing us to come up here—from the top, we have a panoramic view of half the valley, including most of Autumn Lake. He’s spend half the hike so far talking about helping me build the vineyards and winery. He’s acting like a partner. Like a husband.
It makes my heart swell in my chest, and it makes me feel horribly guilty for not telling him yet that he’s free to file for divorce.
“I think you’re smart to plant vines slowly over the next couple years. It will protect you against weather events or fires in any one particular growing season.” He points in the direction of Autumn Lake, even though we can’t see much in the darkness.
“Yeah,” I huff, coming up the hill behind him. How is this man so freakin’ fit?
I’ve spent the past few days in agony, wanting to tell Dash about my meeting with the lawyer. Every time he asked about it, I told him it went fine but didn’t elaborate. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him we don’t need to stay married in order for me to inherit Autumn Lake.
But I have to tell him. I can’t just let him stay married to me on a lie.
“You good?” he asks every so often.
“Yup,” I huff back.
Then we continue in silence.
An idea has been rolling through my brain for a few days now, and I keep trying to ignore it. But ideas can be persistent, and this one won’t let me go…I want to know if Dash is in this marriage to secure land or grapes from me. He’s never explicitly said it, but the conversation from the night of the gala still eats at me.
“What if Autumn Lake doesn’t sell you grapes for the first year? Do you have other…options? Because I have an idea…” I float the thought quietly as Dash and I hike up a hill at sunrise. Holding flashlights, we’re moving quickly, each of us huffing a little bit, trying to beat the sun to the top so we can watch it rise.
Maybe it’s not the best moment to broach the subject because I’m too winded to give Dash the rest of my explanation. I have a mostly formed idea on a short-term solution that could work to Buttercup Hill’s benefit. And my own.
“What I’m thinking is…” I have to take a breath before I continue up a particularly steep area of the hike, which feels like stone stairs instead of a gentle incline.
Timing is not my strength.
Dash doesn’t give me a chance to finish explaining. Halting his movement, he stops, mid-incline. Since I’m hiking right behind him, I nearly slam into his back. Instead, I manage to get my footing on the trail, but I reach a hand out to steady myself.
When Dash wings around to face me, I almost lose my balance again.
“What?”
The sky is lightening by the second, now a serene blue that’s somewhere between day and night, but Dash’s features are going darker in front of my eyes.
“We have a problem. Or I do. With Felix.”
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, they blaze hot blue. “If I hear that guy’s name one more time…” He seems like he’s counting to ten. Or maybe fifty. He paces in a circle, his flashlight beam spotlighting tufts of dried-out mustard plants.
“I’m working to get rid of him, and this is how I can do that.” I’m still winded, but the look on Dash’s face makes me feel gut-punched at the same time.
“Seriously, Mallory, what the hell?” He says it so quietly that the words almost sound sweet, but they still pierce me in the quiet of the early morning.
I hold up my hands. “Wait. Let me explain.”
“You’re reneging on our deal now? After all I’ve put myself through for you?”
Hearing the word “deal” hits me like a slug in the gut. Of course I’ve known all along that we made a deal to help each other, but we’ve evolved past that point over the past couple of months. He loves me. Right?
After all I’ve put myself through for you.
He means our marriage. It’s a deal. And I’m ridiculous for thinking love would alter the equation.
I finally catch my breath enough to explain. “It’s not just about Felix. Smelling that smoke and realizing how easily our livelihoods can burn to the ground has gotten me thinking. I need a backup plan for my business plan. Maybe that means being less reliant on a single crop or coming up with rental agreements for pieces of our land. Either way, I need to get it right before I start parceling the land and planting vines. It doesn’t have to ruin your plans.”
The corner of his lip twitches as he tries to maintain his equanimity. “How-how does it not ruin our plans? We need more cab grapes, and I told you that. That was the deal, Mallory. That was the whole point of this fake marriage.”
The words sting, so I fight back with my own, even if I know I’m making things worse. “Was it? Because I thought it was about your tarnished reputation.”
“Seriously? Fuck all of this.”
His words cut me to the bone, but I try to unhear them for now. He’s just confused and grasping at something to say.
My ideas tumble out. “There are other growers who can provide cab grapes. Have you talked with Graham? I know for a fact he’s overproducing because he offered to sell to me for the first year or so while our vines get established.”
“You’ve talked to fucking Graham?”
“I talk to lots of people, Dash,” I say quietly. I don’t like the way he’s escalating blame here.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I take a step away from him. It’s either that or slug him. “What?”
“I told you the relationship with that guy is tricky. I don’t know what he wants. If you’re forming alliances with him, it all gets more complicated.”
Maybe it’s the pent-up love I’ve been feeling, but right now I’m all emotion. I love Dash and hate myself for not being able to tell him. I’m frustrated and angry and ruining the best thing that’s ever happened to me because it feels safer to burn it to the ground than to gamble on love. At least, that’s the way it feels at the moment, and I hate that too.
I inhale deeply and try to count to ten before I spew my anger all over Dash’s pretty face. I only get to three.
“Okay, first of all, I’m pretty sure he just wants to know his family because you told me that. And second, I had one conversation with him. About business.”
The iron mask of Dash’s features relaxes a tad, but I’m not done.
“Third, how dare you? I didn’t do anything behind your back. I’m meeting with growers all over the area. I’ve been doing it for months, and there’s no reason I wouldn’t include someone who’s growing exactly what I need.”
Dash stares at me, lips pressed together in a hard line. A muscle in his cheek twitches as he grits his teeth.
He’s angry? Fine. I’m angrier.
Grimacing, Dash blinks a few times and shakes his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I nod, and he reaches for me, but I take a step back. I don’t mean to do it, but my body seems to know something my brain hasn’t fully absorbed yet. Then it catches up.
That was the whole point of this fake marriage.
The words take their second lap in my brain, and they sting even more this time around.
“I think we should take a little time apart,” I say. “You’ve been through a lot with the fire and the stress of the business, and I’m trying to get myself in order. Let’s just…give ourselves some breathing room without all of this”—I gesture back and forth between us—“getting in the way.”
“This?” He mimics my movements.
“The attraction. The sex. The…love. I think it’s…confusing things, and we both need to take a little break from the intensity and remember ‘the point of this fake marriage.’ At least I do.”
A bird tweets a sweet little three-syllable sound in the distance, and it’s quickly answered by a different bird with a more complicated trill from the other direction. Ordinarily, I’d stop and take the moment to wonder at the rituals of mating and consider the cuteness.
Right now, I want to tune everything out and bury myself under a blanket in a dark room.
Dash’s mouth falls open. His jaw works for a moment as though he’s trying to produce words, but then he seems to give up.
“Time apart. Yeah, okay. I get it.” He clamps his mouth closed in a line and blinks. I never knew a person could express that much emotion in a blink, but I see hurt, anger, and betrayal in his.
“Glad it makes sense.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. You probably thought the dumb pretty boy wouldn’t be able to grasp such high-level concepts, but I hear you loud and clear.”
“Dash, that’s not?—”
He cuts me off with a raised hand. “No. Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Okay,” I say quietly. “We’ll take a break.”
He nods. I nod. The only problem is that I have the feeling what little chance we had at a relationship is over now. I’m pretty sure it’s my fault. And none of it makes sense to me.