Chapter 30
STERLING
B y Thursday, we’d fallen into an easy rhythm. A comfortable domesticity. It was nothing like I imagined other newlyweds had, no love or romance, but it was solid.
More importantly, it was ours —our own version of peace.
Today, however, was different. In just a few minutes, we’d be getting on our way to Napa for our first weekend away as a married couple. Unfortunately for someone like me who appreciated the order of routine, the trip had all but blown our carefully crafted morning schedule to bits.
We’d still woken up in our separate bedrooms, but instead of Laney going for her usual morning walk to explore her new neighborhood and me hitting the gym downstairs, we’d skipped ahead to the part where I made our coffee. No walk. No workout.
I stood in the kitchen, waiting for the travel mugs for the road to fill, and stared out at the city below. Gray-blue skies stretched out overhead, dotted with puffy white clouds that couldn’t seem to decide if they wanted to gather or keep drifting.
It felt like my brain was one of those clouds, uncharacteristically indecisive as I stared out of the window.
Every morning, after my workout and her walk, I met her in the kitchen.
She always got back with a soft flush on her cheeks and her hair a little windswept.
Meanwhile, I always pretended that I hadn’t timed my cool-down lap perfectly so we could have coffee together before we went our separate ways.
It was a thirty-minute window of quality time and I’d realized that despite the fact that I shouldn’t want that time, I had no intention of giving it up.
In fact, I’d started looking forward to it, discussing our days ahead before she would vanish in a blur of tote bags, a cloud of her perfume lingering in the air after she made a dash for the door.
After that, our lives became as different as they’d always been.
She was still insisting on taking the trolley to work like it wasn’t a death trap on wheels, claiming that she enjoyed being part of the buzz of the early morning commute.
While she enjoyed that buzz and being part of her neighborhood, I sat in my office, tearing through contracts and livelihoods alike, making an obscene amount of money I didn’t need and my wife refused to spend.
At least I’d stopped working late. I wasn’t quite sure why, but four nights in a row now, I’d ended up at Baby Blossom, acting like I had nothing better to do than lift boxes, arrange stock, or listen to whatever workshop they were hosting.
Coffee started drizzling into the mugs and I looked at the sleek, stainless machine, watching the rich liquid slowly fill our mugs. I hadn’t told Laney this, but I really liked seeing her in her element at work, watching her laugh with new moms or helping a frazzled new dad pick out a baby wrap.
She was magnetic there, as brilliant as the diamonds on her finger. Sometimes, I still wondered how it had happened that she was mine. I shook my head, trying to snap out of my thoughts as the machine gave a final few spurts before the low hum of it fell silent.
Reaching for the lids, I twisted them onto the mugs and turned my attention to the weekend ahead. We hadn’t spoken about that kiss. Not even once. I’d considered bringing it up a few times, but perhaps it was better to simply leave it be.
Technically, I had no reason to keep hovering.
Laney’s ankle had healed. It still gave her trouble in the mornings when it was stiff from sleep, but the bruises were fading and the swelling had gone down.
We could just let it go, especially since I was less of a raging lunatic now that she’d stopped wincing every time she moved.
But I couldn’t just forget about it. Something had shifted between us after. Despite the injury healing and the kiss being a memory I only obsessed over when I was alone at night, I couldn’t deny that something was different between us now.
As I picked up our mugs, I heard the soft roll of her suitcase against the tile floors.
I turned to find her walking into the kitchen, phone in hand and a frown knitting her eyebrows.
I cocked a hip against the counter, eyes narrowing as that newly discovered protective instinct of mine reared its angry head.
“What’s up?” I asked. “You don’t look particularly happy this morning. Is something going on at the store?”
She sighed and shook her head, glancing up at me and letting go of her suitcase to rake her hand through her loose hair. The strawberry accents in it were redder against the blonde now that it was a little wet.
“My dad is still being dramatic.” She huffed out a breath as she accepted the coffee I handed over. “I tried meeting up with him for lunch yesterday, but he’s busy with a case. Or so he says. He won’t even talk to me about this and I don’t know what else to do. I know it’s my fault, but…”
As her features pinched with pain and remorse, I fought the scowl trying to rearrange my face and desperately tried to smooth my features into something more reassuring. “Maybe a weekend away will help clear your head.”
She nodded, but it didn’t chase the cloud from those gorgeous gray eyes.
My muscles tensed—hopefully not visibly—but the fact was that I hated that I couldn’t do more.
That I didn’t know how to fix it without burning bridges she still wanted to be able to walk across.
I’d tried, but Vincent Rhodes had to be the most stubborn person on the face of this planet.
“Just don’t pack your laptop,” she added casually as I turned toward my office. “I’ve left mine in my room, plugged in and ready for when we get back, but I’ve decided to leave it here.”
I paused halfway to the door. “Are you serious?”
She looked up from her phone again. “Yeah. I mean, I think it’s a good idea to leave work behind for the weekend.”
It was the first time anyone had ever suggested something like that to me—and definitely the first time I actually considered it. I hadn’t taken a trip without my computer since I first started working. So in other words, I’ve haven’t taken a trip without my computer since I was a child. Splendid.
“Alright,” I said slowly after thinking it over for a moment. “No laptops.”
She blinked like she hadn’t expected me to agree, then grinned even wider than when I’d given her the ruby earrings. Imagine that, she’s happier about the prospect of spending an uninterrupted weekend with me than she was about precious gems and literal gold.
Ten minutes later, still struggling to get my head wrapped around the fact that perhaps human connection was more important to her than material goods, I led her to my private garage under the building.
The concrete echoed under our feet as we crossed the air-conditioned space.
I stopped walking once we had a good view of my collection, gesturing around vaguely.
“Pick one,” I said. “Which car do you feel like taking to Napa?”
Her eyebrows twitched up as her gaze scanned from one side of the garage to the other. “Pick one? Like, any of these?”
“Yep.” I followed her gaze as she looked around. “I think we need something fun. A convertible, maybe?”
“I don’t know anything about cars,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. “How do you have so many?”
“I don’t have as many as most other guys I know who can afford it. I just like the old stuff, nothing too new or obnoxious.”
She stared at the lineup, tapping a finger at the corner of her mouth. Then she surprised me by pointing at my favorite car. “That one. I have no idea what it is, but it looks like it fits the bill and I like the color.”
I blinked but nodded. “It’s a Jaguar E-type. The color is called British Racing Green. It’s iconic.”
“Sure.” She flashed me a smile, very obviously not as impressed by what I’d just said as I’d expected. “Are all of these really yours?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “Why?”
“Why?” She laughed. “What do you need so many cars for? For what it’s worth though, I really do like the color, whatever it’s called. I think I’ve even seen it in the movies.”
“I don’t need so many of them. Like I said, I just like them. It’s a rare indulgence I allow for myself.”
Her gaze caught on mine and strangely it softened. “Yeah, I bet. Come on, let’s go.”
She took off toward the Jag, and when we reached it, I loaded in our things and opened the passenger door for her, watching as she slid in.
The skirt of her white sundress rode up just enough to make me rethink this whole no-laptop, no-work thing.
Without that to distract me, it was going to be a long, hard weekend, but I swallowed back the stab of lust and walked around to get in behind the wheel.
The moment I sat down, she glanced at me with a weirdly surprised smile on her lips. “This weekend, we’re really doing it?”
I turned over the engine and reached for the sunglasses I kept on the console. “Yeah. We’re really doing it. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She leaned back against her seat and buckled up, her smile lighting up my world.
We drove into the bright sunshine outside.
The top was down and the wind was catching her hair, her smile never fading.
She propped her elbow on the door, her joy so palpable that it was slightly disarming.
I caught myself glancing at her every few miles, kind of like I had to make sure she was still there.
Somewhere around halfway, she kicked off her sandals and pulled her legs up into the seat, twisting sideways to face me. “Where exactly are we going?”
“Napa, but that’s all you’re getting out of me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not telling you anything else.”
“That’s not an answer,” she teased, nudging my knee with her foot. “What it’s like there? What does the house look like?”
“It’s nice. You’re going to like it. It’s not the biggest place we own, but I bought it for the land, not the house.”
“ We don’t own anything. You do, though.” She chuckled and leaned in a little closer. “Are there animals?”
“No animals. Just grapes.”
She blinked, then gasped when she realized I was being serious. “You own a vineyard ?”
“ We own a vineyard,” I corrected her lightly. “It’s nothing huge, though. I only make a few hundred bottles a year. Mostly for fun. Some local restaurants buy it, but I don’t sell it online.”
Suddenly, she was grinning like I’d just admitted to owning a unicorn. “I swear to God, you get more surprising by the day. What else don’t I know about you?”
“I’m an open book,” I said. “You just keep reading too slow.”
“Wow. Thanks.” She laughed. “Challenge accepted. Prepare to be grilled this weekend, Westwood.”
“Go for it. I don’t have anything to hide from my wife.” I meant it too, but when I said it, Laney’s cheeks flushed and she turned to face the window.
We stopped at an old roadside diner for lunch. It was a dusty little place with checkerboard floors, worn leather booths, and a pie list that took up half the chalkboard menu. She ordered a grilled cheese and tomato soup. I got a cheeseburger.
It was the easiest we’d ever been with each other.
She laughed a lot, really laughed, and I couldn’t stop watching her mouth when she did.
The tension between us eased into something playful, like we’d always done this, like the wedding, and the contract, and the baby talk hadn’t turned our entire lives inside out.
We were just us . Two people on a summer road trip.
By the time Napa rose around us like heaven on earth, I was glad we’d left the laptops behind. I’d known being with her could be fun, but I hadn’t expected to have so much of it with her.
As I turned off the main road, she leaned forward in her seat. The gravel drive stretched out ahead of us. Vines rolled over the hills on either side, the trellises heavy with green. Laney oohed and ahhed, and when the house finally came into view, her jaw dropped.
The walls were made of dark stone and wide windows that caught the last of the afternoon light.
It was the kind of place that felt like it had been carved from the land rather than constructed on top of it.
A private, quiet, remote getaway that I’d shared with few.
Although I hadn’t bought the property for the house, it was one of the places I owned I loved the most.
“This is…” She trailed off and shook her head. “It’s ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous.”
I glanced at her. “Good ridiculous?”
She gave me a heart-stopping grin, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “The best kind of ridiculous. I can’t believe you own this place. Is there really no one else around?”
“ We own it, but yep. There’s no one,” I confirmed. “Just the two of us. I employ a few people to keep the vineyard going year round, but the house is ours.”
Ours .
She blinked hard when I said the word again, giving her head a little shake. She climbed out when I stopped. Walking in felt different with her by my side, like her joyful energy infused the stale air with something it’d never had before—genuine happiness and excitement.
Before I could say a single word, she wandered off to explore the kitchen.
I sighed, watching her for just a minute before I went to get our things.
I took her small suitcase upstairs, pausing in the hall between two bedrooms. I should’ve put her things in a guest room.
It would’ve been the right move, the safe move, but I didn’t.
I rolled her bag into the master suite and left it by the window, next to mine. We were married, after all. Eventually, we would have to start living like it—especially if we were going to be having a baby together.
She called my name from downstairs before I could second-guess my decision. “Sterling! I’m going to take a look at the vineyard. Do you want to come?”
Smiling to myself at the pure exhilaration in her voice, I headed down, already reaching for her hand in my mind. It turned out that being married wasn’t at all as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, I was really starting to enjoy it.