Chapter 42
Forty-two
Kingston
Family dinner at Paradise Hill has always felt like a gauntlet.
Chairs around one long table, too many voices vying for space.
Tonight, it’s even more so, despite the fact that I’ve spent the last five days getting ready.
I’ve talked with my family to make sure everyone will be here, including Mitch.
I shouldn’t be this nervous. I’ve sat at this table a thousand times. Same smells—roasted garlic, fresh bread—same wine catching the light. But my collar feels tight, and my palms are damp against my thighs. I’m not here to eat. I’m here to finally say what I should have said months ago.
Elise sits two chairs away, close enough that I can hear her steady breaths if I really concentrate, but far enough that it feels like a mile between us.
We’ve had a few conversations since the accident in the vines, but we haven’t yet truly hashed things out.
She passes dishes with a polite smile that never reaches her eyes.
Every time our gazes almost meet, she looks away, like looking at me might hurt.
Regret stabs my chest for a moment. I’ve put her through hell. I can’t blame her for being slow to open herself up to me again. But hopefully, tonight will show that I value her and her place in this family whether she’s partnered with me personally or not.
The table’s full, my father at the head, talking over everyone about the repairs, and my mother steadying things with soft questions. Beckett and Sadie are murmuring to baby William, and Tarryn laughs at something Ryker said.
Elise tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and I catch the edge of a bandage on her knuckles—the cut from the clamp. Heat climbs through my body. Whoever’s behind this sabotage didn’t just go after the vineyard. They went after her. That thought has been chewing at me all week.
I force down a bite, but the food tastes flat. My fork scrapes the plate, loud in my ears. Every sound at the table feels magnified. The longer I sit here, the harder it gets to hold the truth in.
I talked to Tarryn, and she agrees with my strategy. We can fix this.
I run the words through my head yet again, but they keep breaking apart before I can finish them.
Dad’s deep in a story about a new irrigation line, hands moving as he talks. Ryker cuts in with a joke, and the room bursts into laughter. Elise smiles but doesn’t join in. She still doesn’t feel at ease here, and that’s on me.
My chance to speak comes right after dessert hits the table. Tarryn teases Ryker, Dad sighs about a late delivery, and then the noise dips just long enough for me to feel it, that small quiet where truth can live.
I push my chair back. The scrape of wood on tile sounds like thunder in my brain. Every head turns my way.
I never speak up at these dinners. Not like this. My father lifts a brow. My mother lowers her glass. My brothers stop talking. Elise freezes, fork halfway to her mouth. Tarryn smiles encouragingly.
Sweat beads under my collar. My pulse pounds, same as it did the night I came home years ago to find the life I knew already gone. I shove that memory down and make myself stand straighter. “I need to say something,” I manage, my voice rough.
The table waits.
I grip the back of my chair. “You all know about Cara. But what you don’t know is how hard I worked to stop it from happening, how long I worried the end was inevitable.
When I failed at saving my marriage, I buried the pain.
I built a cleaner story. I told myself that if I locked the truth down tight enough, I’d be safe.
That no one would ever cut me open like that again. ”
My mother’s lips part like she might reach for me. My father’s face stays steady, but his jaw tightens. Beckett just stares. Though when I glance at Greyson, he nods, urging me forward.
I draw a breath that tastes like metal. “I thought keeping it inside would protect me. It didn’t.
It’s cost me more than I can stand, especially with Elise.
” I chance a look at her. “She’s been standing with this family, yet I’ve been so afraid of being broken again that I’ve been breaking her instead. ”
Elise blinks, lips parted like she’s forgotten how to breathe.
Her name leaves my mouth, and I finally hold her eyes. A flush rises up her throat.
“I pushed her away,” I say, my voice rough. “I made her think she wasn’t enough, when she’s the only thing I’ve wanted for months. I was too much of a coward to admit it. Until now.”
Elise clears her throat. “Kingston, this isn’t the place—”
“It is.” My voice shakes. “For at least some of it, it has to be.” I take another breath.
“I want to tell you more. I want to explain it all, and that goes for the rest of you as well. We can talk through this if you’d like to, but for now, I’m shifting to my next point.
” I look around at all of them. “This vineyard wouldn’t have survived this last round of sabotage without Elise. ”
A low murmur rolls down the table. I keep going before doubt closes my throat.
“She’s been here every day, shoulder to shoulder with us.
She caught things we missed. She saved sections we would have lost. And she did it while I…
” My voice sticks, but I force it through.
“While I was too scared to give her what she deserved.”
I reach for the box I placed near my chair before dinner.
“Whether she agrees to give me another chance or not, our family owes her our support and appreciation. We could not ask for a better vintner rising through our ranks.” My hands are clumsy as I open the box and slide out the mock-up bottle I had printed a few days ago.
A clean label, stark white with bold script in black across the front.
Elise. Nothing else needed. Her name speaks for itself.
Gasps scatter around the table. Tarryn grins. She loves this idea.
I hold the bottle up. “I’ve spoken with Tarryn, and this is a new label we’ll be releasing under Paradise Hill. The Elise label. Her vintages. Her choices. Her vision. Not borrowed, not hidden. Hers.”
Elise’s mouth opens again, but no sound comes.
“Because we want to acknowledge that Elise belongs here. Not as a guest. Not as Tarryn’s shadow or my girlfriend. But as a vintner in her own right.”
Ryker lets out a low whistle. Tarryn grins, murmuring, “I love it.” My mother’s eyes shine. My father’s stare is heavy and unreadable.
I set the bottle in front of Elise, the label facing her. “This is yours if you want it. And even if you choose to walk away from me, the Elise label stands. Because you’ve earned it, and you deserve it. That’s not a gift from me. It’s recognition for you from all of us.”
As I wait for her response, the fear nearly buckles me. But I hold her gaze and force myself to stay open.
Elise doesn’t touch the bottle. She just stares at her name in bold black, her throat working like the words are caught there. Finally, she looks up at me. “Well, if you’re trying to get me to listen to what you want to say, it’s working.”
The table laughs.
“That’s wonderful news, but I promise this isn’t about that,” I assure her. “It’s about recognition. You have carried this vineyard on your back, and it’s time everyone knew it. I don’t want to own you. I want to stand beside you.”
Her fingers twitch against the tablecloth, like she might reach for the bottle but thinks better of it. Her breath comes quick, uneven. “And if I change my mind?” she asks.
“Then that’s between us,” I answer. “Your label will always exist. Because it’s not tied to me or us. It’s tied to you.”
Her lips tremble, and there’s the smallest shake of her head. But then she exhales, slow and shaky. She pushes back her chair and rises. My pulse spikes as she steps closer, her hand brushing mine where it rests on the table. The touch is light, tentative, but it’s public. It’s her answer.
Her voice is quiet but steady when she speaks. “Thank you. Thank you for this beautiful bottle, and let’s continue our conversation in the future.”
My face breaks into a smile, and the table exhales all at once. There’s a rustle of movement, forks clattering, chairs shifting.
My mother’s eyes shine as she lifts her glass. “Let’s toast to it. To Elise.”
One by one, the others follow, and the sound of crystal colliding fills the room. Elise stands there stunned, her hand still brushing mine, her lips parted like she can’t quite believe it.
I lean toward her, my voice low so only she hears. “This is your table now too. Always.”
Her gaze locks on mine. No walls, no polished mask, just raw emotion. Her fingers tighten around mine for a beat before she pulls back, cheeks flushed.
Around us, conversation rises, lighter now, threads of laughter weaving through the room. Tarryn asks Elise what she will craft first. Ryker jokes about demanding a bottle with his name on it. Even Dad gives the smallest incline of his head, an acknowledgment that in this house means acceptance.
I sink back into my chair, shoulders loosening for the first time in weeks. The bottle with her name gleams on the table, candlelight catching on the letters.
For years, I have carried silence like armor. Tonight I tore it off in front of everyone, and somehow, I am still standing. More than that, I am lighter. Because Elise is the partner I am choosing, and I know now what it means to work toward that goal.
I glance at her again. She’s laughing softly at something Tarryn said, her face brighter than it has been in days. For the first time since I lost everything, I understand what it means to build something together.