Chapter 33
THE FIRST SISTERS CLUB
Ginny
It’s a rare day when I over-obsess about my outfit, but then, it’s a rare day that I’m headed into San Francisco with my ex’s best friend for a date.
Sleeping together every night while ignoring the elephant that is the fact that he’s leaving in a matter of days is one thing.
Going to a private pottery studio for Declan’s job and making love to him there in private is another one thing.
Seeing him around the winery every day as he and Shade wrap filming on this part of his documentary is yet another one thing.
But this—this is a date.
In a public place where we could be seen.
“What about this one?” Mabel says, holding up a copper dress with embroidered edges.
“Perfect. The skirt’s big enough for me to breathe into it if I hyperventilate.”
“Some Wall Street heiress got caught lifting jewels at Tiffany’s yesterday, and she’s been posting poor me videos ever since she made bail, so no one will care if you’re spotted in public. They’re watching her.”
I shouldn’t be relieved at someone else’s public meltdown, but I am.
And then I instantly feel guilty. “Are we inviting her?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Ginny. You’re going to have a wonderful time. Fuck the trolls and the haters.”
“One of those haters is his best friend.”
“That’s his problem.”
I wince.
I should agree—this should be Declan’s problem. Or Alex’s.
But I still feel responsible for it.
I step over a pile of clothes and towels to take the dress from Mabel. “Maybe I’m hyperventilating at the idea of being in a car for so long alone with him.”
“After all of the time you’ve spent together this past week?”
“We’ll be dressed, Mabel.”
“Like you were at the pottery studio?”
I blush.
Her brows rise the slightest bit beneath her bangs. “Ah. I see. Good for you.”
“He was working at the pottery studio,” I stammer. “It’s not the same as being alone in a car together for so long. What if we run out of things to talk about?”
“Pretend he’s your brother.”
I pinch my lips together.
I am not pretending that Declan is my brother.
Mabel smirks.
Declan’s clearly grown on her.
I tell myself it’s because of all the work he’s doing while he’s here filming.
Since the cookout, he’s participated in punching down the grape caps for both the merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon, helped clean up the fermentation room’s floor, researched bottle shapes and found more affordable suppliers, brainstormed wine name ideas with Dori, and run numbers for Mabel on projected overhead costs so she could get some sleep instead of bouncing between working on custom commissions half the day and getting the winery up and running the other half of the day.
And he’s been funny and charming and self-deprecating and also intelligent and generous and easy for all of us to talk to, from Lav to Pip.
Helpful in every situation, whether it’s changing a light bulb in the barn, doing the dishes after dinner, or assisting Pip in climbing a ladder so that she could peek into the top of the fermentation tank and see what her land is producing.
The more helpful and charming he is, the more I notice how warm and friendly his eyes are, how much I like seeing him smile, and how sexy his ass is.
And the more I admit to myself how much I like him, even when we’re not naked together, the more Mabel warms up to him.
But I don’t think she likes that I like him.
I think she’s trusting him more at the same time that I’m liking him more.
When I let myself think too hard about Mabel trusting Declan—the guy who was enemy number one when he arrived here the morning of Caro’s wedding, a means to an end of getting publicity for the winery when we relaunch in the spring—that’s when the old panic settles in.
That I’m falling for a guy when I have no business being in a relationship, much less a relationship with my ex’s best friend.
“Do you think he’s doing what I used to do?” I ask Mabel. “Going out of his way to be likable around me by doing all of the things?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I internet stalked him before Caro’s wedding. I think he’s genuinely this helpful.”
“You’re supposed to lie to me when I won’t like your answers.”
She smiles. “Cricket was telling him about her idea to call the winery Fuck the Trolls, but that we don’t want to get censored on public maps and local directories, and he suggested we use it as the name for the merlot instead.
As long as we only sell it in-house, it won’t matter what any licensing agencies or distributors think. ”
“That’s great,” I murmur while I pull the copper dress over my head, then lift my hair out from under the fabric.
Mabel steps behind me and zips me up. “I can still come with you if you want.”
“I’ve seen every inch of the man naked. I think I can handle being alone for a few hours to do public date-like things with him,” I grumble.
She arches a brow at me, a silent are you sure?
It’s not judgmental. Not mean.
She just knows me.
“Change your mind any time before you leave,” she says. “Even after you leave isn’t too late.”
I need to finish my makeup, so I head toward our bathroom. “If you want to come see the show—”
“I’ve seen Cherry Slapstick and Peppermint Sinbin’s Christmas special, and I have a project I need to catch up on. But if you need me to go—”
“No, no, I don’t need you to.”
“If you want me to.”
I bite my lip. “Am I crazy to want him to stay and date me?”
“No.”
I grab my favorite lipstick and stare at her in the mirror over the sink as she leans in the doorway. “No? That’s all you’re giving me?”
“He’s objectively handsome, with a nice personality, an obvious knack for making you happy in bed, and he’s trying to be your friend despite all of the reasons it would be easier and probably wiser for you two to avoid each other instead.”
“I wish—I wish he and Alex weren’t still friends. And I feel like such a brat for thinking it.”
“If Alex was a true friend, he’d want Declan to be happy with the woman he loves.”
I miss my lips with the lipstick. “Dammit, Mabel.”
“Tell him how you feel. Tell him what you want.” She joins me in our shared bathroom, opens one of her drawers, pulls out makeup wipes, and then points me at the toilet. “Sit. I’ll finish you up.”
I scowl at her, but I also obediently take a seat.
“You know you deserve to be happy, right?” Mabel says as she tackles my face.
“Yes,” I grumble.
“And you have a good heart capable of real love. And so does he.” She smirks again. “Though it wasn’t nice of him to bait you by stealing your mug again yesterday morning.”
“He likes when I yell at him.”
“Red flag.”
“I never yelled at Alex. I was too afraid if I did, he’d break up with me.”
Mabel twists her lips to one side. “Hmm.”
“It’s less that Declan likes when I yell at him, and more that he likes that I’m not suppressing my reactions just to be agreeable and make him like me.”
“Oh, he’s definitely testing you to make sure you don’t let him get away with shit. And you don’t.”
“And that’s still a red flag?”
She smiles. “No. I was testing you to see if you’d defend him. Hold still.”
I hold my lips still, but I scowl at her with my eyes.
“And finished,” she says. “Want me to touch up your mascara?”
“Yes, please,” I mutter begrudgingly.
She smiles wider.
It’s a Mabel miracle.
Unfortunately at my expense.
“Since when do you play so many mind games?” I ask her while she takes mascara to my eyelashes.
“Since your ex’s best friend showed up with a bunch of bombshells.”
“Like that he’s always liked me and that Alex got divorced?”
“Exactly.”
“Did you know Alex was divorced?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since it happened. Look up, please.”
“You didn’t think to tell me?”
“I didn’t think to tell you something that would’ve made you swim in even more unnecessary guilt? No. No, I didn’t think to tell you.”
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
“That I think Declan would stay if you asked him to.”
My eyes water, and I blink fast to keep them from ruining my face.
Mabel wouldn’t lie about this.
“I like him,” I whisper. “I like him so much it scares me, and I…”
Am not sure how to put what I’m feeling into words.
“You’d rather spend your life afraid of making another mistake in love?” She doesn’t look at me as she caps the mascara.
“No. Yes. Maybe. I—I have you and Pip and Olivia and Samantha and Dori and Heath and Cricket and Lav. And I—”
“Deserve a relationship with a man who adores you too.” She squeezes my shoulder. “You don’t have to date him, Gin, but you’re doing yourself a disservice if you let fear dictate your decisions.”
I swallow hard, then I rise from the toilet to check my face in the mirror.
Eyes perfect. Brows perfect. Lipstick perfect.
My earrings are silver knots made locally by one of my favorite artists, and I have my favorite rings on three fingers.
My hair is a mass of curls spilling over my shoulders—no ponytail, because Declan said he doesn’t like my hair in a ponytail, which I over-obsessed about until I decided that I like to wear my hair down, so I’m doing it for me too.
If I were Mabel, watching me get ready for this date, I’d tell her the same things she’s telling me.
“Deep breath, Gin,” Mabel says. “A friend is taking you to see a drag queen who adores you.”
“We might stay overnight.” I’ve already told her a half dozen times, but I say it again.
And it’s not like we haven’t spent every night together for the past week anyway.
But here at the winery, we’re shielded from the outside world.
Being in a hotel—that’s in public.
Mabel hugs me tight. “You’re going to have a wonderful time with an old friend, and I can’t wait to hear all about it tomorrow.”
“Ginny?” Dori calls from below. “Declan’s here.”
I blow out a short breath while Mabel squeezes me just a little tighter.
“You’ve got this,” she murmurs.
I slip into my wedges, then head for the stairs.
“And what are your intentions with my friend this evening?” Dori’s asking below.
“I’m driving her to see a drag show in San Francisco,” Declan answers.
“Will you wear your seat belt?”
“Yes.”
“Will you refuse to drive until Ginny puts on her seat belt?”
“Yes.”
“What are your dinner plans?”
“Fish tacos at a place I know on the wharf.”
“Dessert?”
“Sprinkle Cookies next door.”
“Alcohol?”
“None for me.”
“Are you telling me that so I’ll quit asking questions, or do you mean it?”
“Staying sober is the smart move when your brother knows you’ll be in the audience at his drag show.”
“I’d think it would be the opposite.”
“You’ve never met my brother.”
“Maybe I should.”
Declan’s smiling at her when I turn the corner of the staircase into the main hallway, but his smile freezes on his face as he sees me.
I freeze too.
He’s in casual pants and a striped blue button-up that hugs his thick arms, and I’m suddenly worried that I’m overdressed or that there’s an unspoken rule against wearing a copper-colored sundress to a drag show or that now that he’s thinking about taking me out in public, he’s changing his mind.
Declan visibly swallows. “I— Wow. Hi. You look lovely.”
“We expect her returned looking just as lovely,” Mabel says.
He blinks her way like he didn’t see her coming down the stairs after me. “Of course.”
“Just to clarify, you’re not implying it’s unusual for her to look lovely, are you?” Dori asks.
He shakes his head, still watching me. “Never.”
“Good. Because if you were, I’d accidentally on purpose spill red wine all over your favorite shirts.”
Declan sweeps a glance from my head to my toes and back up again, then visibly swallows.
“Ready?” he asks.
No.
Yes.
No.
Oh my stars.
This is an official, public date.
And I’m suddenly excited about it.
I’m doing something brave.
Something scary.
Something borderline wrong.
“When’s the last time you had maintenance done on your car?” Dori asks. “Is it dependable enough to make it to San Francisco and back?”
He squints at her. “It’s a two-year-old Range Rover.”
“And how do you treat the car?”
“Like I want it to last twenty years.” He glances at me and catches me trying to hide a smile.
I could tell my friends that if Declan invested in a nice car, he’s taking care of it because he’s a cheapskate who won’t want another car expense for at least that long.
But instead, I merely smile and let him field more questions from Dori.
“Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket?” she asks.
He keeps glancing at me as he answers, and butterflies swoop through my midsection every time.
“Two before I turned twenty-one, none since,” he says.
“That’s a very specific statistic,” Dori says.
“I have a good memory. Have you ever had a speeding ticket?”
“Dude. My grandparents are old, and I love them, and so I over-obey every law so that I don’t accidentally give them heart attacks.”
“We’re here,” Cricket calls from the kitchen as a door slams. “Did we miss the inquisition?”
“I was just getting warmed up,” Dori says. “He’s ready for you.”
Declan slides another look at me.
I shrug, still smiling.
He smiles back, shakes his head a little, and then nods to Cricket, who’s joined us in the hallway in front of the pictures of all of our past residents.
“When’s the last time you were tested for STIs?” she asks as she breezes past me, making me belatedly realize I should’ve asked the same thing a week ago.
“About six months ago,” he replies without hesitation.
“And how many women have you slept with since?”
His gaze slides to me, then back to Cricket. “None.”
Everyone looks at me, then back at him.
I don’t say he means none other than me, even though every fiber of my being believes it.
“Are you unable to perform, or are you picky about who you sleep with?” Cricket asks.
I bite my lip and cover my face with my hands, peeking between my fingers at Declan’s growing grin.
“No and yes,” he replies.
“How many kids do you want?”
“Three.”
“Big wedding or small?”
“Ambivalent.”
“Do you think this is a date with Ginny tonight?”
“Until she tells me it’s a date, it’s not a date.”
“Oh, that’s a good answer.” Cricket’s nodding and taking notes on her phone. “Very nicely done.”
Declan inclines his head. “Thank you.”
“I think you’ve gotten everything you need,” I interrupt, mildly irritated that I’ll now be picturing Declan’s wedding to his perfect future wife and their perfect future three kids with Flow and probably two or three other dogs and definitely a cat.
They’ll need a cat to balance out all of the golden retriever energy in the house.
“If we don’t leave soon, we won’t have time for dinner, and I don’t want to be hangry during the show. ”
“But I still need to ask about the worst thing he’s ever done and if he’s ever been married,” Cricket says.
“I was a dick to Ginny for years, and no.” Declan tilts his head at me. “Ready?”
I am.
And I’m not.
But I want to be, so I nod.
And then we’re off.
On our not-date date.
While a butterfly garden blossoms in my belly and my pulse goes wonky.
Fine.
It’s a date.
And I like this man who’s taking me out.
I like him so much it hurts.
And it’ll hurt worse when he leaves.
Unless I’m brave.