Chapter 14 Callum #3
Colette handed us each a glass of something chilled and pale—local, she said, light-bodied with a bite of citrus. It went down smooth, too smooth, and I was already half in love with it by the time we veered back onto the wedding topic.
Auri let out a breathy laugh beside me, her hand flexing where it rested on my back. “We haven’t even picked a dress.”
“Don’t need to,” Lucy piped up. “You’d look like a goddess in anything. Honestly, go naked and we’ll throw flowers at you.”
Kimi nodded solemnly. “Very Aurélie-core. But Fraser would combust.”
Auri rolled her eyes. “You’ll need to think of something else to call us, because there are about to be two Frasers in this group.”
Chaos. Absolute chaos.
“Frenchie and Scottie,” Ivy said, nonchalantly. “Done. Next.”
“I call her Ray,” Kimi added, sipping his wine.
“What—what the actual hell—” Marco threw his hands up. “I'm gonna start calling you Fraser Prime and Discount Fraser.”
“I love Discount Fraser,” Lucy gasped at the same time Aurélie muttered, “I hate Discount Fraser.”
“Wait, wait wait. I have thoughts,” I interjected. “Which one of us is Prime?”
Everyone froze.
“Obviously you,” Marco said, pinning his gaze on Auri and shrugging. “You’ve got the whole ‘global brand’ thing.”
Ivy’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
Auri’s brows shot up, looking offended on principle alone.
“You’re calling Dubois a discount?” Ivy snapped, rounding on Marco. “She is the whole goddamn brand. One she and I built together.”
Marco held up his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Oh my God,” Auri deadpanned, setting her wine glass down on the tasting bar. “Is this because I make less money?”
“Wow. The sexism,” Ivy gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been stabbed. “This is why we riot.”
Kimi chuckled menacingly. “He’s gonna get canceled.”
Marco groaned. “I was making a Formula 1 joke!”
“I was making a feminism joke,” Ivy retorted.
“Callum’s not Prime. He’s mine,” Auri retorted.
“Okay, okay,” Colette interjected, unbothered and glowing. “Before someone starts a group chat called Discount Fraser Support Group—”
“Too late,” Ivy muttered, already typing.
Colette smiled. “There’s a tradition here. Brides drink from the first vintage of the season and walk barefoot to the altar. I’ve got a white blend that would pair perfectly with holy chaos.”
“I am going to cry,” Auri whispered, leaning her head briefly against my shoulder. And then she added, lower, just for me: “You’re really okay with this?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “What have I always said? I’d marry you in a parking lot or a church or a pit lane at midnight. Hell, I’d marry you in the dirt right now, baby. But this? This is magic. This is everything. This is… us.”
Colette clapped once, decisive. “Then it’s settled. Ceremony scouting on the walk. Glasses up.”
She passed fresh pours down the line, pale gold wine that caught the light and bounced it back in shards.
Auri turned back to me, wine glass trembling just a little, eyes shining.
She lifted it and leaned in to me so only I could hear.
“To the man who made the future feel less like a cliff and more like a hand to hold,” she whispered.
“To the way you steady my storm, and to choosing you in every language my body knows. I love you, Callum Fraser. Now, later, always.”
My throat burned. I touched my glass to hers. “Now, later, always,” I echoed.
We both sipped, and then I slid my palm to the warm nape of her neck and drew her in. She rose onto her toes to meet me, her free hand cupping my cheek, the kiss soft and sure and absolutely devastating.
Colette gave us a moment, then raised her own glass, voice warm enough to melt the wind.
“To roots that hold and winds that lift. To fruit that ripens because it was brave enough to weather rain. To first press and second chances, and to two souls who keep choosing each other—on purpose, every day. May your years taste like sun and joy and home.” She smiled, soft and certain.
“Stin ygeia mas—cheers to your forever, and love that stays.”
“To love that stays,” we all echoed.
We spilled out through the open doors in a small, buzzing procession.
We were a group of unexpected friends, full of the kind of laughter that was soft, fizzy relief, the kind that followed after you survived the thing you were dreading.
The earlier fury at Luminis didn’t vanish, but it loosened its teeth.
The world made a different kind of commitment out here.
But nothing compared to the way Auri looked right now.
Her sundress fluttered around her thighs, her skin golden in the light. Her hair fell in loose, sun-warmed waves that were more tousled than styled, soft enough to sway when she turned, catching bits of light like threads of gold.
Colette led the group ahead, pointing out varietals and irrigation lines, but Auri was in her own world.
She cradled her wineglass in one hand and used the other to gesture at the vines, easily keeping up with everything Colette mentioned.
Bud-burst timing. Harvest thresholds. Canopy management.
Things I didn’t even pretend to understand.
Auri moved like she belonged here and the land already knew her name. And that I understood, because she was the only language I cared to know.
“Look at the spacing between the rows,” she murmured, crouching to run her fingers through the dirt. The passion in her voice was evident. “They used to train these lower to the ground, but this height is perfect for air flow and water runoff. This slope is ideal, plus the light exposure?”
I couldn’t stop watching the way her eyes shone brighter than the glass in her hand, the way she walked through these vines like they were part of her blood.
“She’s always done this,” Colette said beside me, grinning as she topped off my glass with the bottle she’d brought with us. “Put her near a healthy grapevine and she practically faints.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said, dry as the finish on whatever I was drinking. “It’s fucking adorable.”
“I’d love to see what she could do with her green thumb. Maybe I could have her take a look at the olive trees.”
“I think if she could figure out how to make her family’s lavender fields thrive after all this time and turn it into a steady brand after she stepped away, she could help you with those.”
“Hmm. Perhaps.” Colette’s French accent was softer than Auri’s. It made me wonder if it was intentional, like my decision to cover my accent had been. If she was hiding from a past life, who knew what she was trying to keep covered up.
“You give that woman an opportunity to succeed, and she’ll blow your expectations out of the water.”
She grinned wryly. “You love her properly.” Her eyes cut to me with a knowing glint.
“I’ve seen Aurélie in tasting halls and on competition floors for years.
She’s always been sharp, intelligent, and untouchable.
But with you?” She gestured at Auri, who was currently lecturing a vine like it had homework.
“She glows. You look at her like an unwinnable fight you’re grateful to lose. ”
“Unwinnable is right,” I said, and meant it.
Behind us, Ivy snapped a photo of Auri inspecting the vines.
Marco pretended to steal a grape from a branch and got his hand smacked by Colette with an amused, “That’s not how that works, monsieur.
” Kimi and Lucy drifted in step, trading little smiles that looked dangerously like hopeful beginnings.
Auri straightened, dusting her palms on her dress, and glanced back at me as if to check I was still there, still hers. I lifted my glass in a small salute. She grinned, and the sun looked dim by comparison.
“Tell me this isn’t perfect,” she said, voice hushed like we were in church.
“It’s better than perfect,” I answered. “It’s you.”
Auri’s head turned at my voice, something soft and startled flickering across her face like the compliment landed and unspooled her a little.
Color rose high in her cheeks; her fingers fussed with the stem of her glass before she bit her lip and shook her head at me, smiling that small, private smile she only ever gave when I’d hit the center of her.
We followed Colette out of the grape rows toward the olive side of the estate, the ground tilting gently toward the sea.
“Okay, quick map for the non-wine people,” Colette said, plucking a leaf and holding it to the light.
“These vines here are Assyrtiko. They’re older plants, so the roots dive deep.
I’ve kept them dry-farmed the last two seasons, which basically means no irrigation so the fruit gets concentrated flavor.
” She pointed across a narrow lane. “Over there I’ve got Aidani with a little Athiri mixed in.
Those are lighter, more aromatic grapes we blend with the Assyrtiko to keep the acidity lively. ”
We stepped past a low stone wall and the landscape shifted into thicker tree trunks, the leaves a deeper, silvery green. “And now you’re in the olive grove,” she said proudly. “My greatest challenge and yet, my biggest reward.”
Aurélie lit up. “What’s been the hardest part? Pruning? Pests? Pressing?”
Colette laughed, a little self-conscious.
“All of the above. I’ve had more consultants out here than I care to admit—soil folks, arborists, an old guy from Crete who speaks in proverbs and knows everything.
The owner’s daughter gave me a crash course after the sale closed—enough to keep the trees from sulking—but then she wiped her hands and disappeared.
After that it was me, the wind, and a lot of trial and error. ”
She stroked the bark of a nearby trunk, affection softening her mouth. “These are Koroneiki trees. Small olives, huge oil. Think peppery, grassy, a little buttery if the harvest hits perfect. Sterna’s old bones are good ones.”
“God, you can taste the history in the air,” Aurélie breathed. “These roots must run deep.”