Chapter 24
Iwake up wondering if dreams based on memories are worse for sleep than living in reality.
All night long I tossed and turned, recalling the change of outcome to the AFC Championship game because Troy was there. The way I ran to him when it was over–bypassing Bryce and the feel of Troy’s lips on mine. Then, returning to this reality and the way his hands smoothed up and down my body.
I woke up reaching for him. Disturbed. Not from fear, but from want. The sheer force of my desire almost caused me to fling open my door, stalk down to his rooms, and have my wicked way with him.
The heat pooling between my legs is all for it. My head is swatting at my knees with a ruler to keep them closed, reminding me rather forcefully I just got out of a flipping engagement about four months ago.
And my heart? It’s so confused all it wants to do is focus on Troy. Whenever he’s around, the outside world shifts a little more out of focus. I forget why I even came to the vineyard, which was to heal my pride, my heart. Hell, both.
Grabbing the spare pillow on my bed, I place it over my face and scream the force of my frustration into it over the way last night went. Certain that the force of my howl caused some feathers to escape from their zippered captivity, I decide there’s only one course of action to take.
Rolling over to my nightstand, I snatch up my phone and fire off a message to the only people qualified to talk me down from the precarious edge I’m balancing on.
Maya:
I think I’m losing my mind.
Christin:
Elaborate, please.
Amy:
Especially since it’s too early for me to pull out a bottle of wine.
Emery:
Does this have to do with Troy?
I sigh, drop back onto my pillows and type out the whole of what happened last night.
In between my lengthy text, the girls perform their normal sleep-deprived ritual of sending GIFs and memes.
Once I hit send, there’s a long pause while they absorb what I wrote before the dots start moving.
Then, one by one, I get their assessment of the situation.
Christin:
He’s caught the feels.
Amy:
Totally.
Emery:
Agree, but he’s trying not to spook you into Switzerland since they don’t have an extradition treaty.
I laugh aloud, the sound easing some of my tension.
Maya:
So…you guys don’t think it’s too soon.
Emery:
Not. At. All.
Christin:
Wait, there was another guy before him?
Amy:
I thought you just returned the stray to the pound.
Christin:
Now that she’s found such a gorgeous Labrador, she has to keep him.
Emery:
If she doesn’t, I volunteer as tribute.
Amy:
Not if I get to him first.
I shake my head, grinning despite everything. “You’re all crazy,” I mutter aloud even as I type:
Maya:
I love all of you.
A flurry of “I love yous” come back in my direction before my best friends claim it’s too early for them to be awake. They promise to text later when they’re more awake. I scroll through our texts, relaxing as I realize there’s nothing to worry about.
Whatever is happening between me and Troy is just that—between us. With that thought, I drift back to sleep with a smile on my face. When I wake up a few hours later, there’s a message from Troy.
Troy:
The kitchen is equipped with a fermentation tank full of coffee.
Troy:
If you’re up for heading out, dress casually.
Maya:
I take a lingering shower and twist my hair into a messy knot. Wearing an old t-shirt and jeans, I make my way to the kitchen to be caught up short when I find Troy sitting at the counter on his laptop. His eyes crinkle at the corners. “What you’re wearing is perfect.”
I walk over and wrap my arms around his shoulders. “What are you still doing here?”
He tugs me closer. “Waiting for you.”
“Don’t you, like, have a job to do?” I tease.
He squeezes my hip even as his eyes take on a serious cast. “The most important job I’ll ever have is ensuring you’re happy.”
I lean forward and rest my forehead against his.
“Good answer?”
I rock my head back and forth as my defenses crumble even more than they already were. Then I clarify, “Great one.”
He pulls back and studies the smile on my face as if he’s memorizing the Super Bowl-winning play. After a few moments, he offers me a smile that not only lights up his entire face, I’m certain it could power the villa for centuries. “How about we play hooky today?”
“You’re such a bad influence,” I tease.
“I’m hoping you’ll let me rub off on you.”
I move closer to Troy, causing him to groan. In my vampiest tone, I ask, “You mean like this?”
“I’m going to hate myself later, but—” He gently sets me away from him. “I had something else in mind.”
“Oh? What exactly?”
A determined glint enters his eyes. “There’s a local fair in the next village over—games, rides, food that you’ll never find at an American fair and will make you full in the best way possible. Somewhere fun. No phones. No ghosts from the past. Just… us.”
I tilt my head to the side and ask the most important question of the morning. “What’s the Italian version of funnel cake?”
“Strauben and Furtaies.”
“Will they have it?”
“Is it a deal-breaker if they don’t?”
I shoot Troy an incredulous look. “It might be.”
“Then let’s go find out.”
“Fine. But you’re buying these Strawberries and Fairies if they suck.”
He grins. “I wouldn’t have mentioned them to you if they did.”
As I follow him out the door, I realize my friends were right. It’s never too soon to smile.
To find happiness.
To feel whatever it is between me and Troy so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.
“There’s something incredibly intriguing about the way you’re handling your stick,” I tell Troy as he navigates another tight turn around the Piedmont in his low-slung sports car.
The road to the village hosting the fair winds through the hills and valleys with devastating twists and turns.
Chestnut trees shoot regally skyward, bifurcating the sky as we speed past. Driving one-handed, with the other resting loosely on the gearshift, Troy takes his eyes off the road briefly to shoot me a cocky grin.
My heart isn’t the only part of me that vibrates in reaction. “How long until we reach the village?”
“Just a few more minutes.” He downshifts, giving credence to his words.
We crest another hill and immediately I spy a village in the distance with charming stone buildings and wooden flower boxes filled to the brim with fall-colored blooms.
As we get closer to it, people are milling about, filling the air with laughter.
Vendors have lined the streets to sell their wares or delicious smelling food.
My head swivels back and forth as I try to decide where I want us to go first as Troy pays careful attention to finding a parking spot.
Finally, he lucks out when he locates a space at the far end of the square. “Where do you want to start?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere.”
He slips out of the car and walks around to open my door. Offering me his hand, I readily place mine into his. The second his fingers close around mine, it steadies my balance but turns my stomach topsy-turvy. I squeeze them before sharing, “I want to do everything.”
“That’s entirely possible. But I have one caveat?”
“What’s that?”
He drops my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders. My arm loops around his waist. “We do it together.”
“Sounds perfect.” And perfect scares me, if I’m being honest.
He tugs me closer. As if he can hear my thoughts, he murmurs into my hair, “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to being treated right.”
I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I really hope he’s not wrong.