16. Ophie
Ophie
I barely pay attention to Cassie’s story about TJ’s sunburn. The yellow jacket that’s been hovering near her for the last twenty minutes has landed on a curl of her hair, and I can’t decide if I should tell her, flick it off myself, or wait and see if it flies off on its own.
I’ve seen what Cassie does around regular bees, so I can only imagine the flailing and shouting that will happen if I say something. As long as the little fucker doesn’t get any closer to her neck, I’ll leave it.
“Ophie? Are you even listening?”
I pull my eyes away from the black-and-yellow insect. “You were telling me about the giant piece of skin you peeled off TJ’s back, and I was thinking about how utterly disgusting that is.”
“Oh god, it was soooooo satisfying.” Cassie giggles before finishing off her glass of wine. “This is so good. Why haven’t we come here more often?”
“Because we were too busy trying to graduate?” I take another sip from my glass, enjoying the crisp, high-acid flavor. “Us poor grad students had neither the time nor money to come to a place like this.”
The wasp zips from Cassie’s hair to the table, landing once again on the empty charcuterie platter sitting on the table between us. She doesn’t seem to notice it as it crawls over the edge closest to her.
“Some of us are still technically too poor to come to this kind of place.” My tone is sharper than necessary as I swirl my glass, the half inch of wine left inside barely moving. If job applications were still on paper, I’d have leveled a forest with the number I’ve filled out. “Not all of us had a job waiting for us as soon as we graduated.”
I look up to see a hurt expression on my friend’s face. “Shit, I’m sorry, Cass. I didn’t mean it, I promise. I’m just frustrated with the job search, that’s all.”
Giving me grace, she pats my hand. “I know. It was just luck, really, that my internship last summer turned out so well.” She picks up her glass to take a drink, then sets it down again when she sees that it’s empty. “Still no luck?”
“I actually have an interview tomorrow with a place that seems really interesting, except that it’s on the East Coast.” I tell her the rest, including some background on Penny Zimmerman.
“What’s wrong with that? You don’t have anything keeping you here in Portland, not really.” Cassie shrugs, slapping her hand down on the table, mere inches from the damned yellow jacket.
“Yeah, but my whole family is here.” I glance around, trying not to look in Philip’s direction. “My life is here.”
Cassie rolls her eyes. “Be for real, Ophie. It’s a great opportunity. Besides, you haven’t even done the interview yet. Why are you saying no before you even know if you like the woman or not?”
“But—”
“I’m just saying, don’t write off an opportunity like that just because you don’t like change.”
The yellow jacket, which had been busy making sure the platter was truly empty, changes direction, taking off from the plate and flying right at my face.
I squeak and twist in my seat, hoping it’ll fly past me, but the wasp lands right on my chest. Now it’s my turn to avoid reacting as its tiny legs tickle my skin. Cassie is shouting at me not to move, but all I want to do is flick it off me. Another voice, a man’s, calls out, but I don’t listen. All my attention is on the fucking bug that is making its way toward my cleavage. I’m generally a “live and let live” kind of gal when it comes to bugs, but not when they’re trying to get under my shirt.
“Don’t move.” A large hand reaches toward my chest, and I squeak again. “I’m sorry, ma’am, please don’t move.” A thick finger reaches even closer, brushing the wasp away from my skin. I’m more surprised by a strange man touching my breasts than the angry wasp buzzing in response.
I jerk, the hand in front of me twitches, and the yellow jacket flies angrily in my face all at once. “Pork ’n beans, that smarts. Ma’am, hold still and I’ll get it.”
“How am I supposed to hold still when there is a very angry wasp inches from my face?” My words come out stilted, my eyes crossing while I try to keep an eye on the insect. “Are these guys the ones that will call their buddies?”
“Don’t move, Ophie!” Cassie sounds far away, like she ran from the table. Which is exactly what I expect happened.
The yellow jacket is still buzzing in my face, darting from my ear to my chin, then up to my hairline. I attempt to track it with my eyes while focusing on breathing through my nose and holding still. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do to stop the scared whine that Cassie keeps making. There’s an electric bzzzt noise, and then the scent of burning fills my nose.
“Ma’am, it’s safe now.” The pleasant southern drawl belongs to the man standing in front of me. He’s tall, with a polo shirt tucked neatly into a pair of tan slacks. Arrestingly bright blue eyes stare out at me from under dark brows and perfectly swooped hair.
“Oh my god, what is that thing? It’s so cool.” Cassie reaches out to take what looks like a metal tennis racket from him.
He hands it over without looking at her. “It’s a bug zapper. Ma’am, are you alright? Did it get you? Are you allergic to bee stings?”
Cassie shakes the dead insect out of the zapper before waving it around like she’s playing tennis with an invisible opponent. My heart is pounding so fast that I’m a little nauseated, but I shake my head at the polite stranger as I catch my breath. “I’m fine. Thank you for zapping it with your racket thingy.”
“I’m Cassie, by the way,” she pipes up as there’s another bzzzt . “Yes! Got him. The cutie you just saved from imminent pain is Ophelia. I’m married. She’s single.” Cassie adds the last bit without a shred of self-consciousness, even though my cheeks burn hot.
What a wingwoman. Not only is she telling the man who just touched my boob my name, but did she have to add that I’m single?
“Well, mighty nice to meet you, Mrs. Cassie. Ms. Ophelia.” He tips an invisible hat in our direction, emphasizing his good-ole-boy charm with an exaggerated “Ms.”
“Just Ophelia is fine.” I try to squash down my irritation at the situation. The man is being polite; it’s highly unlikely he’s trying a line on me right now. I know I could have handled the situation fine, but he couldn’t have.
“My mama would have my hide if I didn’t mind my manners.” He tips his chin and winks, before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Jaxon Jones, at your service.”
Strangely, the more he tries to be charming, the less I like him. His drawl and hat-tipping feel like an act. When Philip does it, I know he means it, even when he’s being goofy. I pull my hand free and lean back in my chair.
Cassie, however, doesn’t seem to feel the same way. “Goodness, I don’t think we’ve ever met a real southern gentleman.” Her terrible fake drawl makes me cringe, but since she hasn’t taken her eyes off him and he’s busy kissing the back of her hand—not the one with the deadly tennis racket—my eye roll goes unnoticed.
“Well, I’m just happy I was here in the right place at the right time. How are you enjoying this fine establishment?” He waves a hand at the sloping hill below us.
“Oh, we love this place. We come here all the time.” A slight exaggeration in her case. “Ophie’s sister is getting married to one of the guys who works here.”
“Ah, so you’re regular patrons?” He turns to me, eyes dropping to my chest and back up, almost too quickly to notice. “And congratulations to your sister. Love is a fine thing, isn’t it?”
“Thank you,” I murmur. I grab my glass, forgetting it’s empty until I try to take a drink. Well, fuck.
Jaxon indicates the large party at a nearby table, then starts describing his relationship to each. I lose count around the fourth cousin twice removed and start debating with myself over how rude it would be to go get another bottle from Philip.
“And where is your husband, Mrs. Cassie?”
“At home. We just got back from our honeymoon, and I needed a break from his face.” Cassie laughs. “Since Ophie is out here hiding from her sister’s sex noises—”
“Cassie!” My ears burn as I swat at my friend. “Don’t talk about that.”
But Jaxon joins her laughter, pausing to give me a knowing look. A look that says he might be interested in learning more about these sex noises, and I wonder if he’s really as much of a gentleman as he claims. Where is Philip when I need him?
Except that Cassie is here, and she doesn’t know about us, so he can’t just swoop in and stake his claim on me with a kiss like he did at the restaurant.
Cassie huffs when I don’t join in on the amusement. “Ugh, fine. It was funny, though. Anyway”—she turns back to Jaxon—“we are having a girls’ day and catching up since we haven’t seen each other in a few weeks. No husbands allowed.”
Just as she says it, my husband walks up to the table.
“Are you girls alright?” Philip’s accent is music to my ears after Jaxon’s languid drawl. “I heard yelling?”
“You heard yelling and stopped to grab a bottle of wine?” Jaxon’s drawl slips a little, his tone clipped at the end.
“Right, well, it stopped, and when I looked through the window, everyone seemed to be okay, so I paused to bring reinforcements.” He hefts the bottle of red in his hand. “I grabbed one of the library pinots from the back.”
“Philip, this is Jaxon Jones. There was a yellow jacket buzzing in my face, and he very kindly killed it for us.” I step in. “Jaxon, this is my best friend, Philip.”
Jaxon doesn’t look convinced, angling his body between us. “I saw you inside earlier, didn’t I?”
“Sure did, mate. You sure you’re okay, Ophie?” Philip moves around him, his eyes glued to me as he comes to stand beside my chair.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a bee—”
“And Jaxon saved her from being stung,” Cassie interrupts, a little too gleefully, as Philip leans between me and Jaxon, setting the wine bottle on the table.
He straightens, turning to face Jaxon, his back to me. “You saved her…from a bee?” His shoulder twitches, and the fist that’s clenched on his hip opens up to waggle fingers at me.
And just like that, I know he’s remembering last summer when he was the one freaking out over a bee, and I was the one who called him a ninny and killed it with my shoe.
Philip is extremely allergic to bees, a fact I learned when he panicked over the wasp nest Maggie discovered inside a planter she’d picked up on Facebook marketplace.
I reach out to tug on the back of his shirt, the linen fabric soft under my fingers. He turns to look at me before moving back a few steps and draping his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s dead. Actually, we should get one of those bug zappers for you, babe.”
The term of endearment drops from my lips so naturally that it takes me an embarrassingly long time to figure out that’s why Cassie’s jaw is on the floor and Jaxon is eyeing us suspiciously.
Jaxon clears his throat and steps back. “Well, I think that’s my cue to exit stage left, pursued by a bear.” His southern drawl is completely gone as he scampers back to the table on the other side of the patio.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Cassie’s voice is incredulous.
“Was he faking that accent the whole time?” Philip asks, his fingers rubbing a soothing circle on my upper arm.
“Who cares about him. What’s happening here?” She drops into her seat, pointing from Philip to me and back. “I’ve seen you do the fake-dating act before, but she’s never called you babe before. It’s always ‘shnookums’ or ‘boo-bear,’ or something equally nauseating.”
Shit. I got too comfortable. I force myself to shrug and pull away from Philip. “Nothing happening here. Just fending off yet another douche canoe.”
Cassie glares at us for a second, then reaches for the bottle he brought out. “What’s this?”
He takes the change of topic and reaches for the bottle, popping the cork out and filling our glasses. “Nate pulled this out earlier so I could try it, and the bottle was still out. Apparently, they only have a dozen left. They bottled these when he and Kel graduated from high school. See the sticker on the back?”
His hand drops to the back of my chair as he straightens, his thumb brushing the back of my neck. I want to close my eyes and purr like a cat at the sensation, especially with the sun shining on my shoulders.
Instead, I take the bottle he’s offering and burst out laughing. The usual back-of-the-bottle label has been replaced with a black-and-white picture of two small boys. They’re wearing matching overalls and rain boots, their faces covered in streaks of mud as they hold up handfuls of grape bunches. Young Kel’s face is split with a wide grin, his light hair sticking up in all directions. I’ve seen that grin in the months since he and Maggie got together.
But baby Nate? He’s like a different person in this picture. There’s no trace of the angry asshole who stomps around the winery these days. The picture shows a carefree kid caught in the act of laughing, his open mouth full of half-chewed grapes. There’s a fuzzy bit in the corner, and as I peer closer, I make out the top of a head, most likely Sydney’s.
How sad that they cut her out of the photo, but I suppose it makes sense if this was for Nate and Kel’s graduation.
“Don’t try and get out of it—something is up with you two.” My feisty friend snatches the bottle from me to look at the photo.
“Cassie, there’s nothing going on,” I insist, sitting up straighter so that Philip’s thumb falls away from my skin, mourning the loss even as I do it.
He holds both hands up in a show of innocence. “Nothing going.”
She tips her head to the side, one eyebrow raised, staring at us for a long moment before picking up her wine glass and taking a slow sip. I relax as she seems to switch her focus to it instead of me. Until she sets the glass down and spears Philip with a look. “Did Ophie tell you about her interview tomorrow for the job on the East Coast?”
“Yup, it’s a great opportunity,” he lies, a little too brightly. “I gotta go, I can see folks walking up.” With that, he’s gone.
Shit, shit, shit. He’s upset; I can tell from the way he didn’t look at me before leaving. Why didn’t I tell him about it earlier? Guilt gnaws at my stomach, competing with the adrenaline from earlier to make me queasy.
Cassie peers at me over the rim of her glass. “See, Philip agrees with me. You gotta at least try, Ophie. Even if it goes nowhere, it’s an amazing opportunity. Who cares if it’s not here? Now is the time to try, before you settle down with someone.” The abrupt change of subject is welcome, even if thinking about moving across the country and leaving everyone I know behind terrifies me.
She doesn’t give me a chance to answer before continuing, apparently oblivious to my distress. “Wasn’t that your whole deal, anyway? The reason you and Philip never dated anyone. So that you could graduate and then pursue whatever opportunity came your way without worrying about a significant other?”
Silence stretches on for an uncomfortable minute while she takes a sip.
I stall by sipping my own wine and concentrating on the flavor. The deep red is full-bodied, the fruit notes powerfully hitting the back of my throat, but smooth from being bottled for so long.
“How long have you two been banging?”
The sip of wine in my mouth threatens to go down the wrong tube, and I almost spit it out. Cassie merely sits there across from me, sipping her wine and smirking while I struggle. When I finally catch my breath, she sets her glass down and folds her hands in front of her.
“We’re—”
“Before Vegas?”
“We’re not—”
“Don’t lie to me, Ophelia. You’re terrible at it.”
I don’t try to argue because she’s right. I am a terrible liar, and I know she would see right through me.
She tips her head again. “Has to have been recent. I don’t think you could have hidden this from me for that long. Look at you—I’ve never seen you turn this red. Not even when you got sunburned that time we went to the coast.”
I cross my arms and look away, my ears burning even as I deny it. “I’m red because it’s fucking hot out here, Cassie.”
“You didn’t give that southern-fried piece of ass a second glance, but the second Philip came outside, you couldn’t look away.”
“He’s my best friend.” The argument is so old it tastes stale in my mouth, even if it’s still true. Philip is still my best friend. It’s just that he’s also more.
“Jaxon was practically offering you a roll in the hay—or vines—on a silver platter.” Her hair shines in the bright sunlight as she shakes her head. “Jesus, Ophie. You didn’t even glance at his ass. And it was a fine-looking specimen.”
“Cassie!” I jump at the chance to change the subject. “What about TJ?”
“What about him? He would agree with me.” She waves away my protest. “I’m married, not dead. Besides, I’ve seen you check out plenty of other guys before. And Jaxon, fake drawl or not, was hot . And Philip is cute in a Great British Baking Show kind of way, not hot in a Love Island kind of way.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m right.” Cassie smirks.
The more I argue with her, the more she’s going to dig. Besides, I’m tired of keeping this a secret when all I really want is to twirl through the grass like a love-sick puppy. I throw my hands up in the air with a groan. “Okay, fine.” I lean my elbows on the table and drop my voice to a whisper. “Yes. We had sex.”
“I knew it!” Cassie fist pumps, then leans her elbows on the table to match me, nearly knocking over her glass. “I have so many questions. Since when? How was it? Are you, like, together for reals now? How could you keep something so momentous from me?”
She stops with a deep breath, but all her questions open up a pit of dread in my stomach that replaces the momentary relief of telling her. This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell anyone. Because I would have to explain so much—and then explain all over again when Philip leaves and we break things off.
I take a deep breath and tick the answers off on my fingers. “A few days after graduation. It was amazing. And no, we’re not together. It’s just sex. Nothing more.”
The lie hurts my stomach, but if I keep telling myself it doesn’t mean anything, maybe I’ll start to believe it.