Chapter twenty-six
“Ican feel you thinking,” Amber said. Her head rested on his chest, and the warmth of her breath brushed over his bare skin.
Curled up in her bed, sans clothes, well sated, was his new, and not surprising, favorite place to be.
Spending a few hours in the garage with Zoe came in a pretty close second.
Although he’d kept her out too long past her snack time and paid the price.
He’d expected her to show some signs of hunger as they played with the tools.
She hadn’t given a hint of it until a full meltdown occurred.
Lesson learned; he’d now carry snacks at all times.
“It’s nothing,” he said, running his fingers through her hair.
It wasn’t nothing, but he didn’t want to push her.
She already had so much on her mind that another discussion about how to make her new job, Zoe, and their relationship work wasn’t something he wanted to add to her plate.
They’d covered a lot of ground the night before.
They could figure the rest out once Anthony and the custody situation were sorted.
She shifted, resting her chin on his chest, her eyes meeting his. “Now I know it’s something.”
He cupped her face and raised his head, placing a soft kiss on her lips.
“Fine, it’s something, but we can talk about it later.
Just mulling over our conversation last night and ways to make all this work,” he said, adding the last part so she wouldn’t worry and start making up even more reasons to worry.
“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” she said. He drew back to look at her. “We agreed I’ll need to split my time between here and Napa. But I’m only in charge of cooking dinners, and we’re only serving those Friday and Saturday nights.”
“I thought you were going to do some of the breakfasts, too.”
“Sunday brunch. I’ll set the menus for the weekday breakfasts, but Elena is going to run the kitchen during the week.”
The club had decided that, at least to start, Bacco would serve breakfast to guests during the week and dinner only over the weekend, with priority seating given to guests.
Brunch was the same. Depending on how that went, they might decide to expand the service, but they all preferred sneaking onto the wine country food scene rather than arriving in a blaze of glory.
Elena Hernandez, the daughter of the vineyard manager and herself a survivor of a violent relationship, had been working with Amber for the past few months on getting the kitchen and menus ready.
They planned to center their dishes on honoring the region’s immigrant communities—an idea the two women had come up with, and the club wholeheartedly agreed to—and they’d worked hard at balancing the menu with items from China, Italy, Mexico, and the Philippines.
They also planned to honor the original settlers of the area, the Onasatis, Patwin, and Miwok tribes, but both women wanted to better understand the food and culture before adding it to the repertoire.
“How’s the staffing going, more generally?” he asked.
“We’re fully staffed,” she said. He could feel her grin in his chest. “The local shelters and support agencies have been great in helping us get the word out, and Elena started the training this week for the kitchen staff. The waitstaff will start next week.”
“What about the inn staff?”
“Gretchen’s got that under control,” she replied.
Gretchen had all but been running Bacco for years as Monk’s dad had slid deeper into his world of depraved debauchery.
She’d taken on Bacco’s new identity as an inn the way a seasoned soldier took to the battlefield.
She’d overseen all the renovations, in addition to all the administrative aspects of changing the business structure and scope.
Everything from business permits to new accounts to insurance to ordering whatever items she and the decorator agreed on.
She’d also taken on training the staff, from the front desk to cleaners.
They’d promoted her to CEO of the new company formed for that branch of the Falcons’ business and told her to hire a manager or two to help, but she’d refused.
Well, not refused entirely, but said she’d rather do the work herself and promote from within once the staff got their sea legs.
No one could argue with that. The entire purpose of the venture was to give those who’d been in situations like Amber’s a chance to build something new.
If any of the women or men had the talent and interest in pursuing a career in hospitality beyond gaining a few skills and a paycheck, there was no reason Bacco couldn’t help with that, too.
“Do you want to know what I’m thinking?” she asked, an eyebrow raised and a smile in her eyes.
“Always, but not if it’s going to stress you out more.”
“You know I don’t do well with unknowns, so it’s better for me to talk about it.
For us to talk about it. I want to know what you’re thinking, too.
I want us to work through the options, and I want us to have a plan we agree on.
I know what they say about plans, and I accept it might change, but I need something to work with.
Something more than what we talked about last night.
Although that was a good start,” she added.
He hadn’t thought of it that way. She’d lived in a constant state of anxiety, unknowns, and fear when married. Wanting a plan was both a luxury and a way of combating her PTSD.
“What were you thinking about splitting your time?” he asked.
“I was thinking I could head to Napa on Thursday mornings and back to Mystery Lake on Sunday after brunch. When I’m here, I can keep Zoe with me, but when I’m there, I’ll need childcare help.
There was some talk of eventually adding a day care center for employees of Bacco, but I know that’s a year or so out.
In the meantime, I can probably find someone to come watch her.
That way, I’ll only be gone half the week. ”
He didn’t love that plan. Selfish bastard that he was. “I have a counterproposal,” he said.
Her brow lifted again. “Let’s hear it.”
“You go down Thursday morning, Zoe stays here with me Thursday and Friday, and we come down together on Saturday morning and stay with you through Sunday. That way, Zoe doesn’t have to go into childcare yet and we both get time with her.
If I have to work a shift at Rita’s on a Thursday or Friday, I have no doubt that either Clara and Adrian, or one of the Falcons, or even one of the Warwicks, would happily babysit. ”
She stared at him, her expression worryingly blank.
His chest tightened. “You don’t like that plan.
” He’d given it a lot of thought. He knew Amber might not want to let Zoe out of her sight, but he also wanted a chance to build a relationship with her that was theirs.
He wanted Zoe to look at him as someone she trusted, someone important to her not because he was important to her mother, but because they had their own connection.
Amber blinked, and moisture gathered in her eyes.
“I made you cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. We can do it your way,” he said. He’d seen her cry several times in the last week, but he’d never been the cause of it, and the sharp panic clawing at his chest made his voice almost frantic.
“Stop, you silly man,” she said, rising and setting her hand across his mouth. Dutifully, he shut up, although his heart pounded against his ribs so loudly he was certain she could hear it.
“You really want to take Zoe on your own? To complicate your life that way? To learn to juggle a baby and work?” She hesitated, then added, “To build that kind of relationship with her?”
He pulled her hand away from his mouth. “If you’re asking if I want to be her father, her dad, then yes, I do.
” And now his heart beat so fast, if it escaped his chest he wouldn’t be surprised.
Then again, maybe that was already happening.
He’d heard from other parents that having kids was like sending your heart out to walk around in the world.
Tears now tracked down her cheeks. He scowled. “What I don’t want is to make you cry.”
She dropped down, wedged her arms under his shoulders, tucked her face into his neck, and squeezed him.
He wasn’t quite sure what to do, so he embraced her back, gently running a hand up and down her spine.
“You really want this?” she said, her voice muffled against his skin.
He frowned. “Yes. I told you I did.” He didn’t like that she might not have believed him. Then again, he may not have been clear about his expectations—of himself and his role in Zoe’s life.
Tugging her loose, he shifted until they were both sitting, her in his lap.
“Amber.” He brushed back her hair and nudged her chin up until she looked at him.
When her brown eyes settled on his, he continued.
“I meant what I said the other day. I want it all. And ‘all’ means being a father. A real one. I don’t have any great role models, so I’m probably going to fuck it up a few times, but what I do know is what I wanted when I was a kid.
What I never had. I can try to be that for Zoe.
That means I get to build a relationship with her even as you and I are building ours.
It means I don’t babysit, but I parent. It means I take the tantrums and the tears and possibly, when she gets older, the sass, too.
But I also get the laughter, the love, and the adventure.
So yes, I do mean it when I say I want time with her while you’re working hard and chasing your own dream.
I want it for me and Zoe, but I also want it for you.
I want to support you. I want Zoe to know I support you.
I want her to expect that from whatever partner she might choose in the future, if she chooses one.
Many—many—years from now. Oh god, she’s going to start dating at some point, isn’t she? ”