Page 35 of Love on the Vine
“No. I never have. It’s best that she stays far away from men like me.”
Lucie sighed and hugged me closer. “Oh, my dear, it is you who is afraid to give too much, and perhaps that is precisely what you need.”
“I’m very happy as I am,” I insisted, but even to my own ears the words sounded hollow.
No, it was for the best that I had suggested Olivia go back to Paris. She’d meet influential industry insiders and be with other people her own age, not stuck here with my cynical ass. I was shit company for a multitude of reasons right now. Still, when she’d accepted the offer, a small pang of regret had settled in my chest.
Even now it sat there like a heavy stone. I rubbed at it, unwilling to believe that it was anything other than physiologicalache. Maybe I was getting heart disease like my father; God knows I was on my way to being just as miserable as he was.
* * *
After having dinner with Lucie and her fiancé, I got back home just as Callie’s Uber pulled up in the driveway.
“Leaving already?” I asked, getting out of the car in time to lift her suitcase into the trunk. “I could have taken you to the station.”
“That’s all right. You’ve already been so generous letting me crash here.” She said before turning to hug Olivia tightly. “Remember what I told you, chicken.” Olivia nodded, her eyes glistening with tears in the moonlight. Then Callie flung her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. When I stepped back in surprise, she said, “Sorry, sometimes I can be too exuberant. Take care, Jake. Thanks again.”
“Anytime.” I held the car door for her as she slid in.
She blew kisses out the window. “Love you, chicken!”
“Bye! Text me when you arrive so I won’t worry.” Olivia waved and pressed her lips together, surreptitiously wiping a tear from her cheek as the car rolled away over the gravel path, spitting up stones in its wake. “I hate goodbyes.”
I nodded in agreement. “I meant what I said, you can invite her anytime. And anyone else for that matter.”
“Well, if I’m leaving soon, I’m not sure there’ll be time for that.” Right, how had I forgotten already? “Anyway, I don’t know anyone else in Europe, except my cousin Levi.”
“He’s the fighter pilot stationed in Italy, right? Whose kid is he again?” I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the Peterson boys had kids, let alone adult children. Made me feel old as dirt.
“He’s my second cousin,” Olivia explained. “He and Callie dated briefly. Very briefly. They don’t have much in common except for an intense love of French pastry.”
“Ah, another foodie.”
“No, Levi isn’t that discerning. He just likes to eat. He’s basically a stomach on legs,” she laughed as we walked toward the pool, illuminated like sea glass in the dark flagstone. She hesitated, glancing uncertainly in the direction of the cottage.
I should have said good night and left it at that. But instead, I found myself once again reluctant to let her go. “I think you’re overdue for your next wine tasting. How about if we open Reynaud’s red?”
Her eyes widened at the unexpected invitation, and her entire face lit up. “Yes, absolutely!”
I went to the cellar to find the bottle and, when I came back up, she’d already set the glasses out on the terrace. She’d coiled her thick hair in a loose bun at the top of her head and, as she bent over to light the outdoor candles, the gold necklace she always wore glinted temptingly against the hollow of her throat. I wondered, not for the first time, what it would feel like to press my mouth there. Would her pulse beat like a hummingbird’s against my lips?
Turning around, she caught me staring. “What is it? You were smiling about something.”
“No. I don’t smile. Must have been a trick of the light.” I tried to play innocent as I set the bottle on the table, but my mouth curved up when I held out the wine key.
“You do smile. You have a dimple that gives you away. Right here.” She placed a finger gently on my right cheek and every nerve ending in my body converged in that precise spot. Normally, I would have pulled away. So why did I want to lean into her hand where it lingered against my cheek? When her eyes met mine, she was the one to jump back.
“Sorry.” She laughed anxiously then turned back to the bottle I’d placed on the table and took the wine key. “I’m not being graded on this am I?”
Taking the bottle with determination, she cut the foil in two twists of her slim wrists. She bit her lip as she drove the corkscrew in and then almost effortlessly pulled it out with a muted but pleasing pop.
“Ha!” She held up the cork speared on the bottle opener triumphantly. Her obvious delight at her newfound dexterity with the corkscrew was infectious, and I found myself smiling for real this time.
“I’ll give you a seven out of ten for that,” I said as I slid into the chair and handed her the glasses. “You jiggled the bottle.”
“Only a seven? Did you hear that, Sly? He’s a tough teacher.” She turned toward the garden wall where a pair of yellow cat eyes were watching us.
“Sly?”
