Chapter 12 #2
Once my dad and Fletcher have finished the dishes, Laney and Fletcher head home since she has an early morning tomorrow, leaving me with my father. He grabs us two beers, and we drift outside so that Ellis can practice riding her bike in the driveway.
My parents’ house sits on the back of the property that Hart Winery is on, with the vineyards that grow most of our grapes just off to the right, climbing up the side of the mountains behind it.
I remember running through those fields as a kid, helping pick the grapes and listening to my dad talk to me about how much care is involved in growing the perfect grape for the best wine.
This winery was my mother’s dream, but sometimes I think he took more pride in what they built together than she did.
“You seem like you have a lot on your mind,” my father says, cutting through my thoughts as I watch Ellis circle the U-shaped driveway in front of the house, the lights on the house shining brightly so I can see her.
“As opposed to any other day?”
My father shrugs. “Your conversation with your sister seemed intense.”
I glance over at him with an arch in my brow as I bring my beer to my lips. “Are you trying to tell me you were eavesdropping?”
“No, but Fletcher mentioned that I should probably try to get you to talk to me. Why do you think that is?”
“Because now that he and Laney are getting married, he thinks he needs to meddle in my life too.”
“Fletcher is just trying to look out for you…like you boys promised each other you would.”
Back in June of last year when shit hit the fan between my friend group, the boys and I sat down and hashed out some shit that had happened over the years.
The result of that conversation—with the help of my dad and his friends—was that we would agree to lean on each other instead of keeping shit inside.
Let’s just say that some of us are doing better with that than others.
My eyes trail Ellis as she continues to stride along on her bike, belting out the lyrics to “Let It Go” from Frozen, her own personal theme song at this point.
When I finally feel ready to speak, I glance over at my dad. “Why didn’t you ever move on after Mom died?”
The look of surprise on his face tells me that I caught him off guard. “Well, I never met another woman who made me feel that it was worth the risk of loving again.”
I direct my gaze back to my daughter. “Never?”
“What are you trying to ask me, son?”
“How do you know?” I cut in. “How do you know if another woman is worth that risk?”
My father sighs, taking a long swig from his beer before replying. “I guess I would wait for the same feeling I got when I met your mom…even though I’m afraid that I never may feel the same way about another woman like I felt for her.”
“Yeah, I get that.” I take another drink. “But what did you feel?”
My father chuckles. “She made me feel lighter, Rhonan. I—I don’t know how else to explain it.
But when I was with her, I never wanted to stop listening to her talk.
I felt like being with her made me see the world differently.
And with her by my side, I felt like we could accomplish anything.
” He swallows roughly. “She was my best friend, and I miss her every fucking day.”
It’s rare that my father cusses. “I miss Mom and Sarah too, Dad.”
“But this conversation isn’t about them, is it?”
“No.” Lifting my beer bottle to my lips, I keep my gaze on my daughter.
“The only thing you can do, son, is listen to your gut. I’ve found that it never truly steers me wrong.”
If only my gut was louder than my fear.
***
“I’m going to make this one into a watermelon.
” Ellis dabs her paintbrush into the bright pink paint, swishing it around a few times before moving the dripping brush to the rock in front of her.
She leans as close to the rock as she can, her focus fucking adorable.
But if she gets any closer, she’s going to end up with pink paint on her nose.
“That’s a great idea, Ellis,” Vienna says, dipping her brush into the red paint next. “I think I’m going to make mine into a rose.”
“Oh, I wanna do a rose too!”
“You can do that next. We have tons of rocks that we can paint, sweetie.”
“We need to paint them all,” my daughter declares, but my eyes move to the basket, knowing damn well that it could take months for that to happen.
“You won’t be able to paint them all tonight, Ellis,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Because there’s way too many, sweetie.”
My daughter looks up at me as if I’ve sprouted another head, but Vienna chimes in quickly. “That just means that we can do this again sometime, Ellis.”
My daughter turns to her, a bright smile on her face. “Okay!” And then she goes back to painting.
It’s a Wednesday night and, as planned, Vienna came over about an hour ago to paint rocks with my daughter.
Joanne made a pasta dish for dinner that we all ate together, and then she left for the Sip & Smut night at the winery that my sister hosts.
I try not to think about the things they discuss at those meetings, but that means I’m alone with my daughter and neighbor, watching the two of them together while I fight the physical reactions happening in my body.
First of all, Vienna is wearing an olive-green shirt that shows just the right amount of cleavage, hinting at the perfection lying underneath that fabric.
Then, she’s wearing black spandex leggings that put every single one of her curves on display but still allow me to appreciate the jiggle of her ass as she walks.
However, the thing that’s truly captivating me right now is how she’s interacting with my daughter.
Melancholy is resting in my chest because all I keep thinking is how this is something Sarah should have been doing with our daughter—and yet again, I’m making myself feel guilty for the other things I’m feeling for the woman sitting in front of me.
It’s not the guilt from wanting to sleep with someone else that is eating at me.
It’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about her in every capacity.
It’s the fact that I want to know more about this woman, my curiosity growing with each interaction we have—and I didn’t think I’d ever consider that after losing my wife.
I thought Sarah was the only great love that I’d get.
And I know I’m far from feeling love for Vienna, but I’m definitely feeling interest—and in a way, that almost feels more conflicting for me because that’s the last thing I should want, given our complicated relationship.
But my mind keeps sprouting questions, like what was her childhood like? Why did she want to be a teacher? And has she done anything else liberating since the night at The Charming Bull? Or does she regret all of her choices that night, including leaving me without saying goodbye?
“You know, when I was a kid I collected pine cones,” Vienna says, pulling me back to the present.
Ellis looks at her. “Really?”
“Yup. And I used to name them all.”
Ellis glances down at her rocks. “I think I have too many rocks to name them all.”
Chuckling, I cross my arms over my chest where I’m standing in the kitchen. “I think I have to agree with that, sweetie.”
“What did you name them?” Ellis asks Vienna, ignoring me, which is fine. Honestly, watching the two of them chat is plenty entertaining. Besides, it gives me more time to admire Vienna’s smile and laugh.
Fuck. I’m in over my head here, aren’t I?
Yup. And if Laney were here, she’d point it out right in front of your neighbor you can’t stop thinking about.
Needing a distraction, I turn back to the sink full of dishes and lather up the sponge with soap. Before I can pick up a dish, though, Vienna shrieks from the table. “Oh God!”
My instincts kick in and I drop the items from my hands, crossing the room in a flash only to find Vienna standing up, her entire stomach and lap covered in water and Ellis looking terrified.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I—I spilled,” Ellis says through her tears as she throws down her paintbrush and takes off for her room, crying louder until I hear her door slam shut.
“Shit,” Vienna says, standing there as colored water dribbles from her clothes onto the floor. “Give me a towel, Rhonan. Please?”
I dart into the laundry room, grab a clean towel from the basket on the washer, and then rush it back over to Vienna. She dabs at her clothes, not saying a word, then wraps the towel around her and takes off down the hall.
“What the… Where are you going?” I call after her, but she ignores me.
“Ellis?” I follow her as she knocks softly on my daughter’s door, opening it and stepping into her room just a few seconds later. “Ellis?”
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a mess,” Ellis says through her tears.
Vienna drops to her knees on the side of Ellis’s bed, reaching for her hands. “Honey, I know. I’m so sorry I yelled, but I was not yelling at you. Not one bit.”
“Really?”
Vienna brushes Ellis’s hair from her face. “Yes, sweetie. I was just surprised. The water was cold and it made me jump, but it was an accident. Accidents happen.”
“I ruined your shirt and pants.”
Vienna shrugs, but there’s a smile on her lips. “They’re just clothes, and I can wash them. If that doesn’t work, I just buy new ones. No biggie.” Ellis nods, but her eyes remain locked on her lap. “Now, can you come back out so we can finish painting rocks, please?”
Ellis lifts her eyes, meeting Vienna’s before meeting my own. “Can—can Daddy paint with us?”
Vienna twists to face me, and when our gazes lock, this sudden urge to rush over to her, pull her from the floor, and smash my lips to hers overwhelms me.
This woman was more concerned over my daughter’s feelings than her clothes. She wanted to make sure that Ellis knew that what happened was an accident, and that was her first reaction to what happened—not to scream and yell, not to rush home to change.
No. She was entirely focused on making sure my kid was all right.
Yeah. I am well and truly fucked.