Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
The air was brisk, but the sun was still mercilessly bright. Remi trudged along the perimeter of the vineyard, each step heavy with regret. The vines seemed to mock him, their leaves whispering Elodie's name in the gentle Proven?al breeze.
He paused, leaning against a gnarled old vine, its rough bark digging into his palm. The same hands that had caressed her in the dark. He closed his eyes, assaulted by memories—her boundless laughter, her ridiculous phrases, the sight of her covered in sparkling wine and desserts.
And the soft warmth of her lips against his last night.
Why was he even still here? He had his own vineyard to manage and a life to get on with. He wandered back toward the house to collect his things.
In the kitchen, he found his jacket and keys. There, on the counter, was the empty bottle of Grenache he’d brought her last night. It might mid morning, but he felt like he could chug an entire bottle of it right then.
He lifted the empty bottle, and a sudden clarity cut through his melancholy haze like a bolt of lightning.
What the hell was he doing?
He dropped the bottle back onto the counter and turned. He raced outside.
He couldn't let her go. Not like this. Not without at least trying.
He turned toward his truck. But it was slow, meant for rolling hills and fields. No, he needed something faster—his gaze fell on the garage, and a reckless idea took hold. Pierre’s vintage Peugeot.
He was taking liberties, but he knew she wouldn't mind. He snatched the keys from the hook on the garage wall and slipped behind the wheel. The engine roared to life in a throaty purr that seemed to share his urgency.
Memories of cruising the rolling Proven?al hills with Pierre flooded his mind, only to be replaced by images of Elodie by his side. Oui. That was where she was meant to be.
Well, no time like the present to test those new brake pads. He eased the car out of the garage, catching sight of Colette and Eric nearby. Colette flashed him a knowing smirk as he peeled away.
Gravel sprayed as he sped down the driveway, the chateau shrinking in his rearview mirror.
The winding country roads blurred past as he pushed the Peugeot to its limits. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his heart pounding in a frantic rhythm. What if he was too late? What if she'd already gotten to the airport? What if—
He checked the time. Non. She wouldn’t have gotten there so fast. He had time.
Finally, a flash of movement caught his eye—a taxi, crawling up the hill ahead. He pressed the accelerator harder, the engine protesting as he gained on the car.
As he drew closer, he caught a glimpse of long chestnut hair through the back window. Elodie.
He laid on the horn, swerving into the oncoming lane to pull up alongside the taxi. Elodie's eyes widened in shock as she recognized him, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise.
"Pull over!" he shouted, gesturing wildly. The taxi driver, looking utterly bewildered, began to slow down.
The taxi eased to the side of the road, and Remi screeched to a halt behind it. He leapt out of the car with the engine still running.
Elodie emerged from the taxi, her expression a mix of confusion and something else—hope?
"Remi?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are you—"
"Don't go," he blurted out, closing the distance between them. "Stay. S'il te pla?t. "
She blinked, her eyes glassy. “Remi—I can’t. I have a life in—”
He cut her off, taking her hands in his. “Here. You have a life here. I should not have let you leave.”
She folded her arms indignantly. “You didn’t let me do anything.”
“Where is your sense of romance?” he teased.
She tilted her head. “Remi—I don’t know, I—”
“Cancel your flight. Stay. You belong here. With your family. With ... me.”
For a moment that felt like an eternity, she said nothing. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face.
"Well," she finally said, a hint of her usual sass creeping in, "I suppose someone needs to keep you from drinking all the inventory before noon."
He grabbed her and yanked her to his chest, crashing his lips into hers.
She finally pulled away, lips swollen and eyes bright. She had never looked so damn beautiful.
She sighed, then walked over to the very confused driver. “Pop the boot, s'il vous pla?t . I will need my bag.”
Remi’s chest tightened as she handed a few euros to the driver and strode back over. She thrust the suitcase into his arms.
“Put this in the back. I’m driving home.”