Page 48 of Merlot Marriage

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a bee—”

“And Jaxon saved her from being stung,” Cassie interrupts, a little too gleefully, as Philip leans between me and Jaxon, setting the wine bottle on the table.

He straightens, turning to face Jaxon, his back to me. “You saved her…from a bee?” His shoulder twitches, and the fist that’s clenched on his hip opens up to waggle fingers at me.

And just like that, I know he’s remembering last summer when he was the one freaking out over a bee, and I was the one who called him a ninny and killed it with my shoe.

Philip is extremely allergic to bees, a fact I learned when he panicked over the wasp nest Maggie discovered inside a planter she’d picked up on Facebook marketplace.

I reach out to tug on the back of his shirt, the linen fabric soft under my fingers. He turns to look at me before moving back a few steps and draping his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s dead. Actually, we should get one of those bug zappers for you, babe.”

The term of endearment drops from my lips so naturally that it takes me an embarrassingly long time to figure out that’s why Cassie’s jaw is on the floor and Jaxon is eyeing us suspiciously.

Jaxon clears his throat and steps back. “Well, I think that’s my cue to exit stage left, pursued by a bear.” His southern drawl is completely gone as he scampers back to the table on the other side of the patio.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Cassie’s voice is incredulous.

“Was he faking that accent the whole time?” Philip asks, his fingers rubbing a soothing circle on my upper arm.

“Who cares about him. What’s happening here?” She drops into her seat, pointing from Philip to me and back. “I’ve seen you do the fake-dating act before, but she’snevercalled you babe before. It’s always ‘shnookums’ or ‘boo-bear,’ or something equally nauseating.”

Shit. I got too comfortable. I force myself to shrug and pull away from Philip. “Nothing happening here. Just fending off yet another douche canoe.”

Cassie glares at us for a second, then reaches for the bottle he brought out. “What’s this?”

He takes the change of topic and reaches for the bottle, popping the cork out and filling our glasses. “Nate pulled this out earlier so I could try it, and the bottle was still out. Apparently, they only have a dozen left. They bottled these when he and Kel graduated from high school. See the sticker on the back?”

His hand drops to the back of my chair as he straightens, his thumb brushing the back of my neck. I want to close my eyes and purr like a cat at the sensation, especially with the sun shining on my shoulders.

Instead, I take the bottle he’s offering and burst out laughing. The usual back-of-the-bottle label has been replaced with a black-and-white picture of two small boys. They’re wearing matching overalls and rain boots, their faces covered in streaks of mud as they hold up handfuls of grape bunches. Young Kel’s face is split with a wide grin, his light hair sticking up in all directions. I’ve seen that grin in the months since he and Maggie got together.

But baby Nate? He’s like a different person in this picture. There’s no trace of the angry asshole who stomps around the winery these days. The picture shows a carefree kid caught in the act of laughing, his open mouth full of half-chewed grapes. There’s a fuzzy bit in the corner, and as I peer closer, I make out the top of a head, most likely Sydney’s.

How sad that they cut her out of the photo, but I suppose it makes sense if this was for Nate and Kel’s graduation.

“Don’t try and get out of it—something is up with you two.” My feisty friend snatches the bottle from me to look at the photo.

“Cassie, there’s nothing going on,” I insist, sitting up straighter so that Philip’s thumb falls away from my skin, mourning the loss even as I do it.

He holds both hands up in a show of innocence. “Nothing going.”

She tips her head to the side, one eyebrow raised, staring at us for a long moment before picking up her wine glass and taking a slow sip. I relax as she seems to switch her focus to it instead of me. Until she sets the glass down and spears Philip with a look. “Did Ophie tell you about her interview tomorrow for the job on the East Coast?”

“Yup, it’s a great opportunity,” he lies, a little too brightly. “I gotta go, I can see folks walking up.” With that, he’s gone.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s upset; I can tell from the way he didn’t look at me before leaving. Why didn’t I tell him about it earlier? Guilt gnaws at my stomach, competing with the adrenaline from earlier to make me queasy.

Cassie peers at me over the rim of her glass. “See, Philip agrees with me. You gotta at least try, Ophie. Even if it goes nowhere, it’s an amazing opportunity. Who cares if it’s not here? Now is the time to try, before you settle down with someone.” The abrupt change of subject is welcome, even if thinking about moving across the country and leaving everyone I know behind terrifies me.

She doesn’t give me a chance to answer before continuing, apparently oblivious to my distress. “Wasn’t that your whole deal, anyway? The reason you and Philip never dated anyone. So that you could graduate and then pursue whatever opportunity came your way without worrying about a significant other?”

Silence stretches on for an uncomfortable minute while she takes a sip.

I stall by sipping my own wine and concentrating on the flavor. The deep red is full-bodied, the fruit notes powerfully hitting the back of my throat, but smooth from being bottled for so long.

“How long have you two been banging?”

The sip of wine in my mouth threatens to go down the wrong tube, and I almost spit it out. Cassie merely sits there across from me, sipping her wine and smirking while I struggle. When I finally catch my breath, she sets her glass down and folds her hands in front of her.

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