Epilogue
CRU
“It’s not too late to change your mind. We can always do this in Australia,” I said to Daphne the night before our wedding.
“Then we’d have to charter a plane to fly everyone who’s here, there.”
“We can do that.”
Daph shook her head. “I cannot imagine a setting more perfect. Los Cab is breathtakingly beautiful, especially at this time of year.”
I had to agree. Veraison had set in a few days ago, and the vineyards were resplendent with golds, purples, deep reds, lime, and chartreuse green, all against the backdrop of the cadmium of the grape leaves.
There was a tent large enough to hold five hundred people already set up on the main lawn. The old winery wasn’t big enough to hold either the ceremony or the reception, but it was where she and I were having dinner tonight after the balloon ride over our vineyards.
Bit, my best man, and Alex, who Daphne had asked to stand up with her, had made all the arrangements, threatening the lives of anyone who dared interrupt our date.
The room we were in looked a lot like it had the night we planned to celebrate our engagement. Lights were strung on the ceiling, our table was illuminated by candles, and around the room, on nearly every surface were bouquets of flowers.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” I said after we’d taken our seats and I’d poured us each a glass of wine from the bottle that sat on the table. “To you, the woman this wine is named for.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, then we both took a sip. “It’s magnificent, Cru.”
“I agree. It’s the reason I named it Cuvée Daphne.”
Her face flushed, and her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmured like she had so many times in the years I’d known her.
“We belong together, Daph, and that means we deserve each other—which I suppose can be good or bad.”
We both chuckled, and I signaled to my brother and sister, letting them know to serve the first of three courses.
After we finished eating and they cleared our dessert plates, the music changed from the soft jazz that played in the background to the song we chose not for our first dance but for our last as an unmarried couple. I stood, pulled out her chair, and held out my hand. “Dance with me?”
You’re a sky, a sky full of stars,” I sang softly in her ear.
“So, I’m going to give you my heart,” she sang back.
“And I’ll give you mine,” I said since it wasn’t part of the lyrics. “Forever, Daphne.”
“Forever, Enzo.”