Chapter 11
Rosa
J ake is gone when I wake up.
This is becoming a pattern.
I shouldn’t be stressing about it. Fieldwork always starts with the sun, before it gets too hot later in the day. There’s no expectation that someone who works on the business side of things would be up and working that early.
Doesn’t make me feel any better, though.
I check the driveway as I head downstairs, something easing in my chest at the sight of his truck. I’m not sure why I keep thinking he’s going to be gone for good each morning.
Probably a little leftover trauma from ten years ago.
To be fair, he didn’t actually leave until after Uncle Geno handed him the annulment papers, but he was still the one to walk away. Eventually.
I head to the kitchen, eager for some caffeine. I pour a mug, thankful again that Jake made enough to share, and pull a yogurt out of the fridge. It’s still a little surprising every time I open the fridge and find a selection of food, even though I’m the one who put it there.
I could get used to this.
But that would be a bad idea. I should know better than to pin my hopes on a mirage.
I grab a spoon out of the silverware drawer and dig in. Then my eye catches on something on the kitchen table, and my blood runs cold.
The blue-and-yellow gift bag glints in the morning sun, sitting atop a white envelope.
What fresh hell is this?
I approach it like it’s a bomb or something, my jaw clenched. I slide the card out from under the bag and open the envelope.
Happy Tenth Anniversary, it reads.
I blink and look over at the calendar. That bastard .
I’m out the door and down the road before I remember I didn’t even bother to see what was in the bag.
* * *
The early-morning sun is bright on the horizon as I stalk through the vineyard, ducking between rows of greenery and scanning up and down the dirt paths for Jake.
Jake, who’s saving the winery, who leaves a gift on the breakfast table, who’s making me hope .
Who’s leaving at the end of summer anyway.
How dare he.
“How dare you!” I shout as the top of his head comes into view across the vines. I force down the hope and hold tight to the indignation as he straightens up, pulling off his gloves. “That was a shitty thing to do.”
“Huh.” He shrugs. “Not the usual reaction I get when I give someone a gift, but okay.”
“An anniversary gift.”
Jake nods. “Ten years ago today.”
“Would you stop?” I ignore the flutter in my heart at his words. “We’re not married ! How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Saying it doesn’t make it true,” he parries back, wiping the sweat off his brow.
I do my best to ignore his forearms and barrel on. “And pretending we didn’t get an annulment doesn’t make that true, either!”
A rustling in the row next to us distracts me, and I turn my head to see what animal is wandering through the vines.
A pair of bright blue eyes meets mine, and I stumble backward, choking on an inhaled breath.
Jake looks over as well. “Oh. Right. Rosa, this is Emi. Emi, meet Rosa.”
Wow, I’ve definitely made a great impression on the new intern.
A young woman wearing leather gloves and a baseball cap comes around the end of the row and nods at me, her expression a little pained.“Nice to meet you,” she offers. “Thanks so much for giving us this opportunity. We won’t let you down.”
We?
“And this is Javier,” Jake adds, waving at the young man following behind.
Make that both interns.
“Welcome to Caparelli,” I say faintly, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole. “Jake, a word? In private?”
“Sure.” He turns to the interns and gives them a couple of instructions on what to do next, then heads in the opposite direction, not even turning back to see if I’ll follow.
Dammit. I follow him, if only to ensure no one else can hear our conversation.
“What the fuck, Wright?” I’m whisper-shouting because I don’t want those two hearing any more than they already have. I can feel the blush burning my cheeks.
“Good morning to you, too,” he says, taking a long drink from his water bottle.
“You couldn’t have warned me?”
He looks over toward the interns, toiling away out of earshot.
“About Emi and Javier? I told you they’d be starting as soon as possible.”
“I didn’t think you meant this soon! And you didn’t even try to stop me from barreling on about stuff no one else should ever know about.”
“When, exactly, would I have had time to say something?” He waves a hand. “You were pretty hell-bent on saying what you wanted to say. It’s not like I could get a word in edgewise.”
“I didn’t exactly plan to say it with an audience,” I splutter. “And how the hell did you get them here and working so quickly? I thought there was paperwork to file or something.”
“I got final approval from Dr. Armstrong yesterday and invited them out right after.” He shades his eyes and looks up the hillside. “No time to waste, really.”
He’s right. I’m still embarrassed, though. And afraid. And hopeful. And a little turned on, to be honest
“I’m going back to the house,” I tell him.
Jake doesn’t say anything as I head down the row to the road. But as I turn back toward the house, I hear him call after me, “You never mentioned if you liked the gift.”
I sigh and continue walking without turning around.
* * *
It’s mid-afternoon before I can bring myself to open Jake’s present.
Initially I was going to just take it, pretty gift bag and all, and toss it into his room. I don’t want it, don’t want anything to do with an anniversary that doesn’t exist, for a marriage that stopped being real nine years and three-hundred-sixty-two days ago, from a man I still don’t know if I can trust.
But the truth is?
I’m tempted.
I go from stalking past it on the way to the fridge to glancing over while I toast a bagel for lunch to poking at it with my butter knife after I finish my meal.
Is it something ridiculous, dragging out the humor that only Jake seems to find in this situation? Or is it generic, from someone who really doesn’t know me at all anymore?
Or—scariest of all—is it something personal and intimate and sweet?
I can’t take it anymore. I pull the bag toward me and reach inside, holding my breath. I don’t know why it feels like something bigger than it is, something the rest of this summer hinges on.
I dig through the tissue paper until my fingers brush against something solid. I pull it free, and I have to choke back a gasp. I can’t believe it.
Oh, God. I am so in over my head.