Chapter 20 #2
"You can't make it easier, sweetheart. This is something she has to work through herself." Brea's voice was gentle but firm. "What you can do is let her digest the information in her own time. Give her space to figure out who she wants to be now that she knows the truth. And just be there for her.”
"What if she decides she wants to claim everything? What if she decides she's a Callaway and that means she belongs at Callaway Wines instead of here?"
Brea set down her wine glass and turned to face him fully. "That woman loves you. Anyone with eyes can see it. She looks at you like you hung the moon and stars specifically for her enjoyment. Whatever she decides about David's money or his legacy—it won't change how she feels about you."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've watched the two of you together.
I've seen how she fights for you, how she trusts you, how she's built a life here that has nothing to do with money or inheritance or family names.
" His mom smiled that sweet, soft grin that always seemed to make things better.
"She's not going anywhere. She's already chosen you.
Now, you need to allow yourself to trust that choice. "
Devon wanted to believe it. Wanted to trust that Emery's feelings were solid enough to withstand the weight of an unexpected inheritance and all the complications that came with it.
"Just love her," his mother said simply. "That's all you can do. Love her, and be patient while she figures out what this means for her future."
His mother kissed his cheek then headed down the deck steps to join the celebration.
Devon stayed on the deck, content to watch from a distance.
Until Emery detached herself from the group and headed toward him.
She climbed the steps with careful grace, mindful of her wet nails, her smile soft and knowing. “Why are you up here alone? You’re going to give Bryson a complex.”
“Maybe that’s the point.”
“Doubtful.” She moved to stand beside him, her shoulder brushing his.
"You're deep in thought. I can tell because you get this little crease right here—" She touched the space between his eyebrows.
"—when you're thinking too hard about something that worries you.
Want to talk about what's actually on your mind? "
“I’m not sure now is the time.”
She tilted her head. “Because you said that, I’m going to hound you until you talk.”
“I don’t want to ruin the party, and I certainly don’t want to pressure you about something you haven’t had the chance to process.”
“Now I get it. The DNA results,” she said it lightly, but Devon heard the tension underneath.
He rested his hands on her hips. “I understand it’s confusing. But we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it, and I don’t know how you feel about having that fact put in black and white, making it real.”
Emery was quiet for a long moment, looking out at the vineyard where the vines stood in perfect rows, with gold at the edges. The place where Bryson had just proposed. The place where Devon's family had built everything that mattered.
“The only word I can come up with to describe how I feel is strange,” she said finally.
"It's strange knowing for certain that David Callaway was my father. That I'm related to people who tried to kill me. That I have a legal claim to money and property and a legacy I never wanted." She turned to look at him. “For the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been consumed by what to do about the inheritance. Harlan believes there’s a possibility for an option to be bought out of everything. Right now, that feels like blood money. I’d be taking money from the very people who wanted me dead. And that, I need to think about. Get a little distance from what happened and some perspective.” She leaned closer, placing her palm against his cheek.
“However, I don't belong at Callaway Wines. It’s not the place I want to build something.”
“And where is it you see yourself?” Devon circled his arms around her body.
His heart beat wildly. He considered himself a fairly confident man.
He loved her, and he felt her love right through to his soul.
But standing there, staring into her green eyes, holding his breath, he worried about what her answer might be.
“Stone Ridge Winery. And with you,” she said it simply, firmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "My career, my life, my future—it's all here."
Devon's chest loosened, and the tension he'd been carrying finally released. "You're sure? Because that inheritance is substantial. Millions of dollars. Property. History. You could—"
"I could what? Abandon the job I love? Walk away from the people who've become my family?
Leave the man I'm in love with because suddenly I have access to money and a winery that I would have some control over?” Emery's voice was fierce now, passionate.
"Money doesn't change who I am or what I want.
And what I want is this. Us. Building something together. "
"The family's going to love hearing that. They've already adopted you as one of their own."
"I noticed. Your mother cried three separate times yesterday when we were discussing wedding color schemes for Riley."
"Wait, what?"
"Riley asked for help planning. I got pulled into a three-hour conversation about whether burgundy or navy blue was more appropriate for a December wedding." Emery laughed. "Your mother kept saying how wonderful it was going to be to have two more daughters joining the family so close together."
"Two?"
Emery's smile turned shy. "She might have hinted—very subtly, of course—that she was hoping for another wedding announcement in the near future."
Devon laughed. He should’ve been mortified. It should’ve scared the hell out of him. But all it did was remind him that he was in love with the sweetest, kindest woman in the world, and he wanted everything with her. "And what did you say?"
"I said I thought burgundy was the better choice." Emery's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Why? Did you have something you wanted to ask me?"
"Maybe. Eventually." Devon kissed her nose. "When the timing's right. When—"
"I already know what I want. I want you.
I want this family. I want to build a life here at Stone Bridge, authenticating wines and creating documentation that will matter long after we're gone.
I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep in your arms every night.
I want to fight about stupid things and make up in creative ways and grow old together watching our nieces and nephews—and maybe someday our own kids—run around this vineyard. "
"You've thought about this."
"I've thought about nothing else since the DNA results came back.
" She took his hands in hers, her burgundy nails stark against his tanned skin.
"Whatever I decide about the Callaway inheritance—whether I take the money or walk away from it—won't change what I want for my future. And my future is you."
“You know, my family’s a little crazy.”
“That kind of crazy I can handle.” She gestured toward the backyard, where Grant and Bryson were now arguing good-naturedly about something while Riley showed her ring to Jessica, who was providing very serious opinions about who Riley should choose to be in the wedding.
"They're my family too now. For better or worse. "
"Mostly worse," Devon said.
"Mostly better." She squeezed his hands. "I love you. I love your family, your winery, your ridiculous valley full of gossip and drama and people who care way too much about each other's business."
"I love you, too." The words felt inadequate for the emotion flooding his chest. "And I promise—no more secrets. No more lies hiding behind anything."
"Just us."
"Just us," he agreed. "And whatever future we harvest together."
"Did you really just make a wine pun?"
"I've been saving it."
"It was terrible."
"It was perfect, and you know it."
She laughed, the sound warm and genuine and everything he'd been terrified of losing. Then she kissed him—a kiss filled with promises of truth, trust, and building something real together.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, she rested her forehead against his. “You need to go congratulate your brother before he has a panic attack about actually having to plan a wedding."
"Too late. I saw his face when Ashley started talking about guest lists."
"Then we definitely need to intervene."
She took his hand, pulling him toward the steps. Devon let himself be led, let himself be pulled back into the chaos and celebration and love that defined his family.
The harvest was over. The secrets were revealed. The danger had passed.
But the best vintage was still ahead—waiting to be created from everything they'd weathered together, from the trust they'd rebuilt, from the love that had taken root in the richest soil of all.
Devon looked at Emery, at the woman who'd survived attempted murder and betrayal and the revelation of a father who'd abandoned her, and he saw only strength. Only courage. Only the future he wanted to build.
They joined the celebration, folding back into the family that had claimed them both.
Riley pulled Emery into the conversation about wedding colors.
Bryson grabbed Devon's shoulder and said something about needing moral support against his sisters' increasingly elaborate ideas.
The kids resumed their football game with renewed vigor.
And as the sun dipped lower, painting everything in shades of gold and amber, Devon realized this was what he'd been searching for without knowing it. Not just love, though he had that. Not just family, though they surrounded him.
But home. Real home. The kind that had nothing to do with property lines or family names or inherited legacies.
The kind of home you built with your own hands, one honest conversation at a time, one shared moment at a time, one harvest at a time.
The kind of home that lasted.
Thank you for taking the time to read A Harvest of Lies. Please feel free to leave an honest review.
I hope you will check out my newest series…