Page 129 of Let It Breathe
But she wanted to confess, and she wasn’t willing to wait. On some level, Clay could relate. When he’d hit rock bottom and decided to get sober, he’d had Eric drive him to rehab that minute. It didn’t matter that Clay hadn’t showered in days and the sweatpants he’d been wearing were covered in paint and food stains.
When you’re ready to get clean—or in Sheila’s case, come clean—waiting might mean losing your nerve.
So yeah, Clay kinda understood where she was coming from. And as she finished describing her crimes to the detective, he felt his cell phone vibrate.
“It’s Eric,” he said, setting his phone on the table. “Look, Sheila—he’s going to know sooner or later. You sure you don’t want to talk to him now?”
“Not yet.” She sniffled and swiped at her eyes with a tissue. “That’s going to be the worst part, and I’m not ready yet. I just need to talk to Reese first.”
Clay nodded and hit the ignore button on his phone. “Fair enough.”
Detective Evans cleared his throat again. “So, ma’am, just to be clear, this was all an attempt to get your husband—Mr. Eric Mortenson—to leave his position as winemaker at Sunridge Vineyards and move with you to New York to be closer to your family?”
“And work.” Sheila looked down at her lap and began shredding a soggy tissue. “I’m a forensic nurse, and there’s not much opportunity here in Oregon, but in New York—” She stopped, shaking her head. “There are lots of good wine jobs there, too. For Eric, I mean. But he never wanted to talk about moving.”
Clay bit his tongue. What would his best pal say when he found what his wife had done?
The detective scribbled something, then consulted his notes again. “And you claim you didn’t set out to sabotage Sunridge Vineyards.”
“That’s true.” Sheila sniffled. “It started innocently. When I saw Eric get upset about the winery having a termite problem, I got the idea to poke a few holes in the barrel so he’d think his work was compromised. Things just spiraled from there when I saw he wasn’t budging, and?—”
She broke down in sobs again, and Clay felt his heart twist. God, he knew all too well how it felt to screw up this badly. To know he’d done something horrible and destructive to people he cared about.
The desk phone beside the cop gave a shrill beep. “Detective Evans?” called a female voice. “There’s a Reese Clark here for you. You asked me to alert you when she arrived?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right out to get her. Just give me a sec.”
He hit a button on the phone and stood up, eyeing Clay and Sheila. “I’ll be right back. You two stay here.”
Clay nodded and gave Sheila’s hand another squeeze as the detective moved past them into the hallway.
Sheila looked up at him, eyes still shimmering with tears. “I blamed you, you know.”
He blinked. “For what?”
“For being the reason he wouldn’t even consider moving. He was so excited when he heard you were coming back. So proud of you and the fact that you got your life back together. Did he tell you that?”
Clay looked away. “Not in so many words.”
“That sounds like Eric. All dirty jokes and grunts and not a lot of sentimental talk. You thought the only thing he cared about with you is whether you’d end up with Reese?”
Clay looked back at her, a little surprised. “How’d you know?”
“I know my husband. He’s protective of you both. He thought you’d be a bad combination. Personally, I thought you were perfect for each other.”
Clay shook his head. “I think I already proved that wrong. Things are kind of a disaster right now.”
Sheila shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I do.” He let out a long, shaky breath. “I screwed up, and it’s too late to fix things.”
“No it’s not.” She clenched the soggy tissue in her fist, her eyes taking on a rabid look that made Clay sit back a little. “Promise me something—promise me you won’t give up on this thing with Reese.”
“It’s not my choice to make.”
“Yes, it is. Fight for her. Convince her you want her. Tell her you won’t take no for an answer.”
“What am I supposed to do, club her over the head and drag her back to my cave by the hair?”
