Chapter 2 #2
I slosh my brains making myself look at her, and I nearly snort again.
“No,” Mabel says.
Declan’s eyes drift down my body again.
Shit.
Am I wearing clothes?
If I’m not wearing clothes, I’ll be so mad at myself.
And what the actual hell is up with these goosebumps rising all over my arms and legs?
It’s been too long since I’ve been this drunk.
I can’t remember if this happens on a hangover.
“Freida and Ginny reuniting on camera and vouching for your winery could give your operations an even bigger boost than Declan’s presence alone,” Eddie says. “They got interested at the wedding. It’s a thing that could happen. And ratings would be incredible for a documentary.”
“No,” Mabel repeats. “Our agreement is for Cricket, Dori, and me to appear on camera with Declan, along with any hired field crew who sign releases. We’re not adding to the cast, and we’re not wandering into reality-TV land.”
Cricket joined us as a full-time resident last summer after her viral moment. She has actual camera experience thanks to her years in the news industry, and she’s learning the ropes to manage our fields.
Eddie’s been told that Mabel hired Cricket because of her social media expertise and that everyone who’s working at Makepeace is being asked to learn all of the operations too.
“Ginny, do you like wine?” Eddie asks.
“Stop,” Declan says softly to her.
“It would be great for—” she starts, but he cuts her off again.
“I don’t want Freida Rhodes involved, and there’s no reason to keep Ginny from getting back to her—wherever she needs to go.”
“He doesn’t want me involved either,” I translate for the producer. “He hates me and would rather gnaw on a hockey puck without his teeth than be around me any more than necessary. And that was before I tried to stop his best friend’s wedding.”
The man has the decency to wince.
He tries to mask it by taking a sip from my mug again, but I saw it.
He winced.
I wish he’d scowl at me.
Instead, he’s giving pity vibes.
That’s worse.
“Again, conflict sells,” Eddie murmurs to Declan.
“Foxy Goes There isn’t about conflict,” he replies.
“It could be more colorful.”
Mabel rises. “Freida Rhodes is not welcome here, we’re not adding Ginny to the cast, and you’re in danger of breaking the privacy clause in our contract if you keep pushing this.”
Eddie’s phone rings. She glances at the readout, then rises too. “Excuse me. That’s the director.”
She heads for the back door, the one that goes from the mudroom to outside.
Declan glances at me again.
Then at the mug.
Then back to me.
Like he’s connecting the dots that the mug looks like a Ginny Rhodes original.
He shifts his attention to Mabel. “I read that privacy clause. Pretty extreme.”
“My aunt insisted.”
“Your aunt who asked half the guests last night if they wanted to blow on her husband’s urn for good luck for the new couple?”
Pip is outlandish and I love her.
Most days.
“Yes,” Mabel says, as if she’s daring him to push it further.
Declan does another sweep of the room from Mabel to the mug to me to the mug to me to Mabel.
And once again, I get goosebumps.
Fucking alcohol.
“None of the staff you’ve hired have wine-making experience?” Declan asks.
Mabel doesn’t blink. “Everyone starts somewhere.”
“So you’re reopening a winery with…friends?”
Dori grew up helping her grandpa make fruit wines as a hobby, and she has a biochemistry degree. She’s young, but she’s already proving she has instincts and the nose for the job.
Not that Mabel tells Declan that. “I believe you’re here for filming a documentary and not for judging how we choose to do our business,” she says.
He holds eye contact with her. “I get wanting privacy, but something feels off.”
“Managing your feelings isn’t part of our contract.”
Declan pushes away from the counter, rising to his full height and widening his shoulders, still gripping my mug. “What are you doing here that you’re not being honest about?”
“I’m living my life and trying to get my aunt’s winery reopened.”
He glances at me again. “And Cricket and Dori—they live here too?”
“They’ll be available for filming through harvest, crush, and initial fermentation.”
“How’d you all meet?”
“You want to save some of these questions for the cameras?”
“If you’re doing something shady—”
Mabel actually snorts. “Yes, clearly I’d reopen a winery and consider letting someone film the process while running secret shady operations here. Having people crawling all over the property during celebrity weddings makes it super easy to hide our underhanded business arrangements too.”
He doesn’t say anything else for a long minute while he stares into the mug, gripping it in both hands.
It’s what he always did when he was thinking hard.
With a mug that I made him in college when I was still trying to win him over.
Mabel rises and slips to my side. “Can I get you some coffee?” she asks softly enough that it doesn’t hurt my head, but loudly enough that Declan can hear.
“Yes, please,” I reply.
“Is that why you want discretion?” Declan says, making Mabel and me pause. “For Ginny’s protection?”
“I already told you, the discretion is for my aunt. Discussion closed.”
I like that tone.
Even when I’m hungover, I know that’s a good tone.
That means Mabel’s about to take care of everything.
Go full Mabel.
Protect our home. Protect our family.
Our family of misfits who all made mistakes that were seen by millions and millions of people around the world, courtesy of social media.
“This documentary’s gonna be fun,” he mutters.
“I didn’t ask you to do it,” Mabel replies.
“You live here?” Declan says to me.
“You don’t quit, do you?” Mabel’s giving off hurt her and die vibes.
“Deserve to know what I’m getting myself into.
Yesterday wasn’t what I’d call uneventful.
And I didn’t think you were hosting guests in your home.
But you have the kind of privacy and nondisclosure demands usually reserved for rich criminals, you barely let Eddie and me in this morning, and I can’t shake this feeling that you’re hiding something. ”
“I’m strongly considering kicking you both off the property.”
I cover my ears.
She’s not shouting, but her vibe is.
Her vibe is currently very loud, and Mabel’s vibe is never loud.
Stupid alcohol.
Stupid mother.
Stupid weed.
“I’m going to murder Pip when I have enough energy,” I whisper to Mabel.
She smirks. “She’d welcome that this morning. The woman can’t handle her pot.”
“I won’t let your mother get involved,” Declan says to me.
“Hockey didn’t knock out all of your brain cells then,” I reply. “Congratulations on your retirement, by the way.”
He doesn’t twitch, but I get the feeling he wants to.
My ex and Declan—they played hockey together in college, then got drafted by the same pro team, and they always talked about playing together into their forties.
Being those guys.
The ones who broke records.
Hall of Famers.
Legends.
The only legend Declan Fox will ever be to me is the legendary ass kind.
Even if he was right to dislike me.
Look what I did to Alex’s wedding.
“Excuse us,” Mabel says to Declan again, with a clear get out gesture. “I need to get my friend some coffee.”
As if coffee can actually cure my problems.
Declan holds eye contact with her for a long minute before he saunters to the sink, sets his—my—mug inside of it, and then traces Eddie’s steps to leave through our mudroom.
“I’m tearing up the contract,” Mabel murmurs to me as soon as we’re alone.
“No. No. I can—I just need to sleep this off some more, and then I’ll be fine.”
“They’re asking too many questions.”
“We need the money, and we couldn’t have asked for a better documentarian for the publicity either.”
Foxy Goes There, Declan’s web series—it’s unbelievably popular.
This documentary offer is a gold-plated gift on a silver platter.
We need our winery to succeed.
We’ve bought ourselves time with what Caro and Mike insisted on paying us for hosting their wedding, along with a few donations from some previous residents who didn’t stay permanently after their five minutes of fame, but we need the winery to succeed as a functioning business so that we can continue supporting ourselves for years to come.
So we can continue to invite women who go the bad kind of viral here to recover too.
It’s not about the wine to me.
It’s about giving back to the world what Mabel and Pip and Makepeace Cellars gave to me.
If we fail—if we fail, the bank will own this vineyard, and not only will we lose our home, but I’ll lose my mission.
My purpose.
The good that I do in the world to make up for all of the bad that I’ve caused.
“We’ll find another way,” Mabel says softly.
“But this way is right here, and it’ll pay dividends when it airs.”
She’s eyeing me as she pours me a cup of coffee into a generic Makepeace Cellars mug.
“If you change your mind…”
“I won’t.”
I know we need this.
No matter how much I hate having Declan Fox in my home.