Page 76 of Corkscrew You
The winery is in the shit, and it’s all my fault. And I’m in no position to do anything about it. Nate doesn’t trust me an inch now. Why should he? I’m not only incompetent, I’m also a bitch. If I were him, I wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole.
People get it wrong about the five stages of grief, my doctor told me. They think they happen sequentially, when in fact they happen in random order, at random times. Denial, bargaining, anger, sadness, and acceptance. Any time, in any order.
People are also wrong when they think grief is only about someone dying. Any kind of loss triggers grief. Losing a job, friends moving away – even feeling like you’ve been betrayed by someone you trusted.
I’ve just gone through a bunch of anger, because I felt like Nate had betrayed me by keeping secrets. I’ve accepted I’m to blame for what just happened between us, and for the sad financial state of the winery.
Now, denial and bargaining are fighting to come to the surface. My thumb’s hovering over his number on my phone, and all I want to do is apologize over and over, say I didn’t mean it, and beg his forgiveness.
But before denial and bargaining make it halfway, they’re beaten to the post by sadness. I’ve lost him. He’s gone. He’ll never forgive me, and he’ll never come back. I know that for a fact. Nate Durant is a man of his word, and the words he spoke to me were crystal clear.
Trouble is, I’ve just realized that I love him. I want to be with him forever and ever.
If you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down on this bed right now and do a shitload of crying.
ChapterTwenty-Six
NATE
“Where the hell are you going?”
Fuck. Ava’s sitting on the front porch. I don’t have time for this.
“For a run.”
And I start off, down the driveway.
“It’s ten-thirty atnight,” she calls after me.
No shit. Guess that’s why I’m wearing a headlamp.
I want to run on the trails, really push it up the hills, but I know the ground’s too rough to navigate, even with a light. I may be intent on pushing my pain limits, but I don’t actually want to go so far as to break a leg. I’ll stick to the roads. Run as hard and as far as I can. Forget about everything except the rhythm of my breath, and my feet pounding on the tar. Feel nothing but the burn in my lungs and legs.
I make it back home around midnight. Ava’s gone in, thank Christ. My legs areshot, and I have to lean on the balustrade as I climb the stairs. I collapse on the side of the bed and fall back onto it. Lie there until the sweat becomes uncomfortably cool.
I get up again, so I can undertake the painful operation of swapping my damp running clothes for a T-shirt and sweatpants. It is then that I observe a cut crystal drinking glass on the antique sewing table filled with amber liquid. Next to it is a note.
In a manner not unlike a newborn foal, I make my way to the table. The note’s in Ava’s impatient scrawl. ‘If you want to talk, I’ll be up’,it says. ‘Bring your glass’.
I don’t want to talk. To anyone.
Happy to down the whisky, though. It rushes straight to my already light head, and I have a strong urge to get obliterated again.
No. I need to be fully focused. JP’s contract with me is for one year, with a review at six months. If I push this plan through, I’m confident I can get the winery on track in three months, tops. Job done. Contract fulfilled. I’ll go back to France.NotBordeaux – another wine region. Plenty of places will hire me. I’ve got a good reputation.
Have to sit down again. Legs are quitting on me. Like I’ll be quitting on JP.
If I get his investment humming, he shouldn’t mind so much. And now, I’m free to do itmyway. No more having to consider the feelings of a certain Shelby Armstrong.
Anger is mighty useful. Blocks all other emotions, so all you feel is pure, white-hot rage. But even with my rage still volcanic, Shelby’s name hits me like a fist to the gut.
Howcouldshe say that? That’s the rage talking. But the gut pain feels more like shock. The shock you experience when someone you love betrays you…
Before this evening, Shelby hadn’t said one unkind word to me. She’d dealt with my sulk around Commando Cam, and my inadequate communication, with good humour and patience.
She’d agreed with my request to put our relationship on hold, when I couldn’t even give her a timeframe. She was prepared to wait. For me.
She was prepared to come to dinner with a house full of strangers for me. Because I needed her help.
