8. Kylie
Chapter 8
Kylie
S pending a few hours with Matt’s mom and Liam at Grape Expectations last week was great. Being there always made me feel at home. And being with them made it feel even better. Liam is a character, and even our conversations made me feel included. He’s an amazing little boy and is definitely the spitting image of Matt.
But Kathleen knew there was something wrong the minute I walked in. Must be that mother’s intuition. I didn’t feel judged when she asked me what was wrong, and when she suggested we have lunch for ‘girl talk’, I accepted the invite immediately.
After she and Liam left, I sat on the patio, tracing the rim of my wine glass as I stared out at the rows of vines covered in the late afternoon sun. My mind raced with ideas of ‘what’s next’ while the quiet of the winery turned my thoughts into action. Patrick used to do so much, weekend trips away, dinner nights for us, spur-of-the-moment dates, simple things that showed me he cared. But his promises had gone to the wayside. Vague excuses about spending time with his dad and late work nights replaced all that he had promised me. I couldn’t remember the last time he asked how my day was or looked at me like he actually saw me and cared about what I said.
“Don’t tell me you’re having a hard time finishing that glass,” Matt said, appearing beside me with that easy, familiar grin. His sleeves were rolled up, his strong forearms begging to be held onto.
“No, just trying to figure out how much wine it takes to drown mild disappointment. Both mine and others’.”
He leaned on the chair next to me and said, “You’d need at least a bottle and a half. But I recommend our Merlot. Pairs well with a life crisis. Or so I heard.”
Matt always had a way of easing the tension, like he just knew I needed to be pulled out of the right now and dropped in a world that was fun and light. He made things easy. And it didn’t get by me that he immediately knew something was wrong when my own fiancé hadn’t noticed me in weeks.
And now, here I am, sitting at Little Red Hen with my ex-boyfriend's mom and a mimosa in hand.
“Do you ever feel like the red chickens are watching you?”
I laugh at her question. The decor here at Little Red Hen is, you guessed it, country and loaded with chickens. I’ve only been here once before, though it’s cute and fun and has quickly become a go-to place when you need to start the day with an amazing breakfast. Or amazing mimosas, in our case.
“Their eyes do kind of follow you, don't they?”
She giggles as she sips her drink. “I guess I prefer the red chickens, as opposed to a blue cock.”
I almost spit my drink back into my glass, nearly choking as I try to swallow. “Mrs. Byrne!”
She gives me a self-satisfied smile. “What? I’m old, not dead.”
I shake my head, still laughing to myself as the waitress approaches. We place our food order along with another round of mimosas, hand the menus back, and I settle in for what could be an uncomfortable conversation. But for some reason, I'm looking forward to it.
“Kylie, just know I think of you as if you were my own daughter. So please know my next sentence is said with love.” She pauses dramatically and it isn’t until I nod for her to continue that she says, “Your fiancé is a complete dickwad and you can do so much better.”
I bubble over with laughter once again and it’s not from the champagne. It's a relief that someone else feels the same way I do.
“Your laughter tells me everything I need to know.” She sits back with a smirk.
I take a deep breath and finish my drink before answering. “You're mostly right. Patrick isn’t a dickwad, but his goals are different from mine. The life I was promised is not what I’m getting. I just don’t know how to end it without hurting him and disappointing others.”
She raises her brow but keeps smirking, not saying a word.
“But in the end, I have to be happy with myself before I can make anyone else happy.”
“And?”
“And that means leaving the relationship, no matter how uncomfortable it’s going to be to end it.”
“Good girl,” she says with a grin. “Kylie, no one is going to fault you for putting yourself first. The first time you introduced me to Patrick, I knew he wasn’t the one for you. But I wasn’t going to say anything until you figured it out for yourself. And I knew you would, it would just take time.”
“I just wish it didn’t take me to the point of booking a wedding date.”
She eyes me over her glass, sipping from her drink. “I have a theory on that.”
“What’s that?”
“You picked our winery because you knew you could get out of it, and we’d support you. I think you chose a safe place because you could fall back on us, as needed.”
“Mrs. Byrne, I?—”
She reaches for my hand. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m so glad you feel comfortable enough with us to trust us with the most important and hardest decision you’ll ever make.”
I squeeze her hand. “You were always so kind to me. And I always felt like you were my family.”
She nods. “We love you and I think we always assumed it would be you and Matt in the end.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
She gives me a soft smile. “How has it been seeing him?”
“It’s been great honestly. And not weird, for the most part. I missed talking to him and I missed being at the winery. Planning this event is as much for him as it is for me, you know? I have such great memories of growing up there and being with Matt and you guys. I’ll never forget your anniversary party. It was one of the best days of my life.”
“Oh, to be young again.” She laughs. “That was a great day. And we’ve had a great life here. And just like I told Matt, don’t let one bad apple spoil the bunch.”
We sit back as the waitress approaches and brings our food. Chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream for me and eggs benedict for her.
“Two more mimosas, please.”
“Mrs. Byrne!”
She waves her hand. “It’s girls’ day and neither of us are driving. Drink up.”
We fall into comfortable chitchat while we eat. I fill her in on my newest freelance writing job and she gushes over how great it is to have her grandson so close. I feel completely at ease, and for the first time in quite a while, I’m not afraid of what the future may hold because I’m the one who holds it. My thoughts are confirmed. I’m going to end it with Patrick and enjoy being me again.
“Can I say something?”
I laugh as I finish chewing and use my napkin to wipe my mouth. “You always do, so I'm ready for it.”
She waggles her eyebrows but then cocks her head slightly to the side. “Your relationships failed because they weren't right. You both chose wrong because you didn't choose each other.” I start to protest but she puts her hand up. “And I know most of the blame lies with Matt. He always was stubborn and I think he didn't want to admit that he actually made a wrong choice in following one of his dreams. Even though his first dream was waiting for him at home, he saw coming back as a failure.”
I whisper, “I was waiting for him.”
She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I know you were.”
“I didn’t care that he didn’t go pro. He just loved the game, so whether he was playing professionally, playing for a pickup league, or coaching, I just wanted him happy.”
“He looks pretty happy now.”
I scoff. “Does he? I think he’s still in shock about being back here.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But I think he’ll ease right into where he’s supposed to be sooner than he thinks. And sooner than you think too.”
I sit back and finish my mimosa. It would be very easy to fall back into a routine with Matt. Our friendship was always easy; it wouldn’t take long at all. And maybe a couple of hours spent together could lead us right back to where we left off.
“There’s actually one more thing I want to talk to you about for the event. I have an idea.”