Page 118 of Gone With the Wine

I shrug.

She watches me with a notch between her eyebrows. “I’m so relieved,” she says on an exhalation. “Although I do feel sorry for those folks. I hope they find their dog.”

“Yeah.” I walk past her toward the kitchen. “Better get back to work. Come on. We have grapes to crush.”

She stops me with a hand on my arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She moves closer and lays her hand on my chest. It feels…so good. So good. “It’s okay to feel relieved. I know those people are disappointed, but you can feel bad for them and happy for yourself at the same time.”

I smile. “I’m fine. I’ll keep the little guy a while longer.”

“Jansen.” She shakes her head. “Talk to me.”

His forehead bunches low. “About what?”

“About how you’re feeling. About Moose.”

I study her beautiful face. She looks at me across the counter, her warm brown eyes steady and brimming with…something.

Apprehension? Worry? Pity?

“Talk to me,” she says softly. “Please, Jansen.” She pauses. “I love you.”

Her words crash over me. My throat goes dry. And yet, I’m not surprised. Words bounce around in my head for about an hour. My heart goes feral in my chest and I feel an urge to run, adrenaline flooding my veins. Finally, all I can say is, “But you’re leaving.”

She closes her eyes briefly, as if that hurts. And nods.

No. That can’t happen.

But what can I do? My head feels stuffed with wool. I can’t think.

Then the scariest thought of all jumps into my head. The riskiest thing. Opening myself wide to rejection. “What if…what if I asked you to stay?”

Her eyes fly open. She stares at me, then inhales a shaky breath. “Jansen.”

My heart is a fist punching inside my chest. I don’t look away. “I know this isn’t what you planned. But you could stay.”

“You…” She stops. Her throat works. “Why?”

I frown. “Why?”

“Why do you want me to stay?”

I gaze back at her. “I…” Jesus. I feel like I’m back on that Ferris wheel with my stomach swooping on the up swing. I want to throw myself at her feet and hold onto her and never let her go. I’ve never had this feeling before. I’m terrified.

I won’t beg her to stay. My lips feel numb as I manage to say, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Her eyes flatten and she presses trembling lips together, nodding. For a long moment she gazes at me and I feel it like a knife gutting me. “I can’t stay.”

My heart drops, right to the soles of my feet.

She pulls in a breath and lifts her chin, giving me a mouth-only smile. “I have that award happening. Maybe a promotion, a raise. Wines to work on. I can be myself there.” She gives a firm nod.

She said she loves me. That filled me with exhilaration and exultation, and yeah, okay, panic. Desperation to keep her here. I asked her to stay.

She doesn’t love me enough to stay.

“I think I’ll leave this weekend,” she says calmly. “You have interviews for winemakers next week. Things are pretty solid here.”

I don’t even nod, just watch her face with my chest squeezing so hard I can’t breathe. I watch her stand and move to the door. Watch her leave.

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