Chapter 3 #4
“Olivia always enjoys your company.” Gabe kissed Brea’s cheek.
“She’s getting better with each day, and she doesn’t want to let this loss control her entire life.
It’s just having two miscarriages so close together…
” He closed his eyes for a brief moment.
“Well, she’s worried we won’t be able to have kids. ”
Emery flattened her hand against the counter.
This wasn’t her business. It wasn’t her place to open her mouth and offer an opinion.
But she was going to do it anyway. “Not many people know this about me, and it’s not because it’s some big secret.
It’s just because my parents and I believe a family is a family, no matter how it’s made.
” Everyone stared at her, and her heart thumped in her chest like a wild rabbit.
She swallowed. “My sister and I are both adopted. My mom couldn’t have children.
She’d known that since she was a teenager, so adoption was always the solution for them.
They never lied to us about it. We just never felt the need to advertise it. ”
“I appreciate you sharing that.” Gabe smiled. “I’d love for the two of you to meet sometime.”
“I’d enjoy that,” Emery said.
After Gabe left, the family stayed still and quiet for a long moment.
“He took that miscarriage as bad as Olivia did,” Brea broke the silence. “He’s holding it together. Being strong for his wife. But that’s a man built for a family, and I can see how hurt he is.” Brea rested her head against Walter’s shoulder. “I saw that same hurt in your eyes once.”
“Some of that pain isn’t for the loss of the promise of life.
” Walter kissed the top of Brea’s head. “It’s about being powerless to help the person you love more than anything.
It’s the one loss that you really can’t share in.
Even though I was excited to have another child, it was only an idea. I couldn’t see or feel it like you.”
Emery wiped a tear that had rolled down her cheek.
“I don’t know what was worse. Seeing Gabe so distraught, or Monica’s rudeness,” Walter said, his voice heavy with regret. “She has no class, and Winston... well, he can be somewhat entitled at times.”
Emery managed a smile that felt more genuine than she'd expected. "Thank you. All of you. For defending me.” She stood, suddenly exhausted by the emotional roller coaster of the evening. "But I think I need some air. It's been a long day."
"Emery," Brea started, but Emery was already moving toward the door.
"I'm fine, really. Just tired. Thank you for dinner, for the wine, for... everything."
She slipped out the back door before anyone could protest, breathing deeply of the cool night air. The guesthouse beckoned like a sanctuary, but she'd barely made it halfway down the path when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Hey, wait up.”
She turned to find Devon jogging after her, his expression concerned in the dim lighting from the solar path markers.
“I wanted to thank you for what you shared with Gabe,” he said. “He hasn’t been himself lately.”
“I can’t imagine what he and his wife are going through,” she said automatically, then sighed.
“They really want kids, so this hasn’t been easy.” He stopped about two feet away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “But I also wanted to make sure you were okay. Both Winston and Monica were out of line.”
“Maybe, but that’s the kind of thing we’re going to face because of my public shaming, and I'm starting to wonder if taking this job was a mistake."
"It wasn't."
"The scandal is too raw, too fresh. People are going to question your judgment in hiring me, and that could hurt the winery's reputation."
He stepped closer, and she could see the intensity in his dark eyes. "Monica Gilford is a bitter woman who destroyed lives for money, and Winston Callaway has never liked us. Their opinions don't matter."
"But other people's might."
"Then we'll prove them wrong. All of them." His conviction was absolute, unshakeable. "Emery, you're brilliant at what you do. One asshole's betrayal doesn't change that, and neither does the gossip of small-minded people who have nothing better to do than tear others down."
She wanted to believe him, wanted to let his certainty anchor her against the waves of her own doubts. "It's going to take time."
"Then we'll take time. However much you need." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "But please don't let tonight make you doubt your place here. You belong at Stone Bridge."
The sincerity in his voice made her chest tight with emotions she couldn't afford to examine too closely. "I'll try to be patient."
"That's all anyone can ask."
They walked the rest of the way to the guesthouse, stopping at her front door under the soft glow of the porch light. For a moment, they stood looking at each other, the air between them charged with possibilities neither of them could act on.
"Thank you," she said finally. "For coming after me. For caring whether I'm okay."
"Always," he said simply, and the single word carried more weight than a longer declaration might have.
"Goodnight, Devon."
"Goodnight, Emery."
She watched him walk back toward the main house before letting herself inside, leaning against the closed door as she tried to process everything that had happened.
Monica's venom, Winston's calculating stare, the family's fierce defense of her, Devon's unwavering support—it was too much to unpack in one evening.
But as she poured herself a glass of water and prepared for bed, one thought kept surfacing above all the others: for the first time in months, she wasn't facing her battles alone. Whatever came next, the Boones had made it clear she was part of their family now.
She just hoped she was strong enough to live up to their faith in her.