Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
The morning came too soon, as it always does when goodbyes linger on the horizon. I woke to the gentle caress of Proven?al sunlight sneaking through the gap in the breezy curtains. For a moment, I was lost in an unfamiliar place, my mind adrift in that hazy space between dreams and reality. Then it all came rushing back—the inheritance, the family I never knew I had, and Remi. Oh God, Remi.
He stirred beside me, a peaceful portrait, his eyelids fluttering in dreams. I let myself sit silently, watching him for a few moments, committing the sight and smells to memory. A heavy lump settled hard and heavy in my gut. I felt hollow, like a core piece of me had been torn out.
"Get it together, Elodie," I muttered, forcing myself to sit up. My head throbbed in protest—apparently, French wine was just as unforgiving as its Californian counterpart when it came to hangovers.
Last night replayed in vivid flashes—the wine, the laughter, the way Remi's eyes had found mine across the crowded room, drawn together by an invisible thread. The urgent press of his lips against mine, the warmth of his hands. The intoxicating scent of wine and earth clinging to his skin.
How could something that felt so right last night suddenly seem so complicated in the harsh light of day?
I closed my eyes and breathed in the moment.
“ Coucou .” My eyes shot open to meet Remi’s half-lidded gaze. His hair was tousled, and his chin shadowed. But he looked content.
"Hi," I replied lamely, mentally kicking myself for my lack of poetry.
“Am I interrupting?”
I blushed. “Sorry. I was just... taking in the moment, I guess.”
His mouth ticked up in a lazy half-smile. “Not a bad idea.”
“Did you sleep well?”
He sighed contentedly. “Too well.”
“No such thing.”
He reached out and stroked my bare arm. “I should have stayed awake all night watching you—in a way that is much less creepy than that sounded.”
I laughed. “Who says I didn’t?”
I sighed and pushed myself up.
“I knew there was something not right about you,” he said.
He smiled sleepily, but I saw a muscle twitching in his jaw. The silence stretched between us, as vast and imposing as the Atlantic Ocean I'd soon be crossing.
I nervously ran a hand through my hair, acutely aware that I probably looked like I'd been dragged backward through a hedge. Remi, of course, looked infuriatingly perfect, even with his dark hair mussed from sleep. I noted the way the ends were starting to curl up slightly.
"So," he began, then stopped, seeming to wrestle with his words. "Your flight is at...?"
"Noon," I supplied, grateful for the mundane topic. "I should leave for the airport by nine, I think."
He nodded silently.
I found myself staring at his hands, remembering how they'd felt on my skin just hours ago. I quickly averted my gaze, heat rising to my cheeks.
"Listen, Remi, about last night—" I started, not sure where I was going with it.
"It's okay," he cut in, his tone maddeningly neutral. "We don't have to—"
"Right," I agreed hastily, relief and disappointment warring in my chest. "It was just a... a goodbye."
Something flashed in his eyes—hurt? anger?—but it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
"Of course," he said smoothly. "A proper French farewell."
I let out a strangled laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. "Right. Very... continental of us."
Remi's lips twitched, a ghost of his usual smirk. For a moment, I saw a glimmer of the easy banter we'd shared over the past weeks. Then it vanished, replaced by that damnable polite mask.
“I don’t know about you, but I need coffee with immediate urgency,” I blurted out.
“Me too. Where are the servants when we need them?”
“In someone else’s castle, I’m afraid. We will have to fend for ourselves like peasants.”
“Now I am truly offended,” Remi teased.
I tossed a pillow at him. I reached for my linen robe, thrown over a chair next to the bed, and slipped it on as quickly as I could.
“Such modesty. Clearly not French.”
“There are children in this house, monsieur.”
“Régis is about to have a baby. I don’t think you’ll offend his delicate sensibilities.”
I mock-glared and flashed my robe open, making us both laugh hysterically.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet hitting the cool wooden floor. The sensation sent a shiver through me, and I found myself wishing for the cozy slippers I'd left behind in my little bungalow. It was just one of a thousand little things that reminded me I didn't belong here, no matter how much a part of me wished I did.
My suitcase lay open on a nearby chair, a chaotic jumble of clothes and souvenirs. I'd meant to finish packing last night, but... well, I'd gotten distracted. Now, the sight of it filled me with a strange mix of relief and regret. In a few hours, I'd be on a plane back to my real life, leaving behind this whirlwind French adventure.
I padded over to the window, unable to resist one last look at the view that had captivated me from day one. The vineyard stretched out before me, rows of gnarled vines bathed in the soft glow of dawn. In the distance, a flock of birds took flight, their silhouettes dark against the pastel sky. It was breathtaking, like something out of a painting.
"I can't believe I'm leaving all this," I whispered, more to myself than to Remi.
He walked to me, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.
To his credit, he didn’t push me, didn’t argue.
What choice did we really have but to let it go? I was about as qualified to run a winery as I was to pilot a spaceship. This place deserved someone who could do it justice, not some clueless girl who'd stumbled into an inheritance she never asked for. Still, as I turned away from the window, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was making a terrible mistake.
I caught sight of myself in the antique mirror above the dresser—hair a mess, last night's mascara smudged under my eyes.
“Well, I certainly look the part of French heiress,” I teased.
Remi came up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist. He nuzzled into my neck, and I closed my eyes, letting myself just exist in this delicate moment with him one last time.
Finally dressed in some casual lounge clothes, we ventured downstairs. Even disheveled and a little hungover, Remi was the walking definition of "ruggedly handsome." For a moment, I allowed myself to drink him in. The morning light played across his broad shoulders, and I was struck by a bittersweet pang of longing. This could have been our routine, in some other life where I wasn't leaving in—I glanced at my watch—approximately three hours and twenty-seven minutes.
For a moment, we stood at the top of the stairs, staring at each other. The air between us crackled with unspoken words and the ghost of last night's passion.
I turned and stared down the hall, hesitating.
“What’s wrong?” Remi asked.
I laughed nervously. “Nothing, really. It’s just—once we come down the steps, people will know we… you know.”
Remi smirked. “Such a tragedy.”
I shook my head, laughing. “It’s not that. It’s just—I guess it’s felt like our little secret. Now it won’t be.”
He slipped his hand into mine and leaned closer. “Trust me, it’s not a secret to anyone.” He kissed my forehead.
We made our way down the stairs, the steps creaking with each movement as though determined to announce our presence to the rest of the house. I plastered on what I hoped was a convincing smile as we descended. Chaotic voices streamed out from the kitchen in a flurry of rapid-fire French.
Colette was pulling something fresh and buttery from the oven while Régis and Félicité were locked in a friendly debate, both dressed in the same kinds of country-chic loungewear and clutching cafés au lait .
Régis was actively demolishing a pain au chocolat , leaving a trail of flaky evidence on his shirt. He looked very much the little boy in that moment.
They stopped their French chattering when we stepped through, and they all threw us knowing glances. Remi flashed me a teasing look, and I felt my whole body heat.
“Bonjour, sister,” Régis said, eyeing Remi with a smirk. “The family grows by the minute, I see.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed past Remi toward the coffee carafe on the center island.
“Don’t get any clever ideas. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
“Looks like you need a cigarette as well,” Régis teased.
I shook my head as I shakily poured myself a cup of coffee. I hadn’t quite acclimated to the relentlessness of sibling teasing.
“I’m not talking to any of you until this cup is empty,” I said crankily. “Speaking of growing family, where’s your baby mama?”
“Still asleep. Apparently, pregnancy makes you sleep like the dead.”
Colette sauntered over then, carrying a tray of fresh turnover-style pastries. Saliva instantly pooled in my mouth.
“What in the name of sweet Zeus are those?” I asked.
“Interesting turn of phrase,” Remi said. I ignored him and turned back to Colette.
“They are chaussons aux pommes . My grandmother’s recipe. It was Pierre’s favorite. I thought it was only fitting that it’s your final breakfast here.”
It was subtle, but I caught the sheen over her eyes. She turned away and set the tray on the breakfast table. I plucked up the warm pastry and bit in. Buttery, sweet apple goodness melted in my mouth.
“These are a crime,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Only the best for our American sister, off to abandon us for the land of hamburgers and Hollywood,” Félicité said.
“That might be the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said. I live nowhere near Hollywood, and I really don’t like burgers,” I replied.
“What about cheese? Pardon, my English is no good,” she said, thickening her accent.
I snorted a laugh.
“If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure my little Berkey house is smaller than this kitchen,” I said, pulling myself away from Félicité.
"Then why go back?" Régis piped up, wiping chocolate from his mouth. "Stay here. We've got better food, better wine, and," he gestured to himself with a wink, "obviously better-looking people."
I rolled my eyes, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Modesty becomes you, little brother."
Little brother. I had to swallow a choke.
"He's not wrong, though," Félicité said, her tone light but her eyes serious. "About staying, I mean. We've only just found you, Elodie. It seems cruel to lose you so soon." She pushed her lips into an adorable pout.
“You must get men to do whatever you want with that look,” I said, laughing.
She bobbed her head. “I have been known to be effective.”
"I'm not disappearing forever," I protested weakly. "We can FaceTime.”
Félicité rolled her eyes at me and muttered something in French that she made sound both angry and sexy at the same time.
“Are you sure there is nothing we can do to change your mind?” Félicité said, refilling her coffee. She flashed me her big sad-eyed look.
“Watch out, she’s deadly,” étienne said, popping into the kitchen, coffee in hand. He beelined for the chaussons and then refilled his coffee. “Did you tell her?”
étienne thoughtfully shoved a pastry into his mouth.
“Tell me?” I asked, eyes darting around the group.
étienne fired off something in French to Félicité and Régis, which resulted in a brief heated discussion.
I glanced at Remi, my eyes pleading for assistance.
“Yesterday, we were discussing this nonsense about the historical preservation department making waves for you,” étienne finally said.
“I made some calls. The person leading this initiative has a good argument for designating this place as historically protected, and it’s true. But their motivation is what we all expected—to prevent the new owner—you—from tearing it down or selling it.”
I nodded. “So I will have to go through all the hoops and paperwork.”
étienne nodded slowly. “Oui, perhaps. However, there is some very good news. Buildings designated as Monument Historique in this commune are entitled to grants and tax breaks for certain repairs and upkeep.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that this little roadblock might backfire for them. And benefit you. If you agree to their guidelines, you could get quite a bit of funding.”
My coffee hovered mid-sip. I didn’t know what to say.
“That’s—that’s—” I stammered.
“What we call a game changer, no?” Remi said.
My head was spinning. It had been such a huge obstacle—getting bogged down in expensive paperwork for months and not being able to afford whatever they deemed necessary.
“It does change a lot,” I said slowly. “But—” The words caught in my mouth. The brief moment of excitement that had lit up Remi’s face quickly faded into one of resolve.
“But it doesn’t really change anything,” he said matter-of-factly.
I pressed my lips into a tight smile. “It will make paying for the renovations much easier. And I’m sure everything will go smoothly in my absence.”
I averted my eyes so I didn’t have to see Remi’s reaction.
“I should really finish packing. Thanks for the amazing pastries, Colette. I’ll really have to get the recipe.”
I slammed down the rest of my coffee and ran back upstairs.