Page 64 of Conflict
IT’S BEENten days since Branson showed up at my doorstep, and my sister hasn’t answered a single one of my calls. I decide it’s not a good sign, so I break down and get Shane’s number from Cheyenne, calling him to see if he can find out what’s going on. After we’re off the phone and I trust he’s going to smack some sense into Branson, I try to do the same with my sister.
I’ve tried to respect her wishes, giving her the space and the privacy she wants, but I’ve had enough. They belong together, no matter what, and I’m not letting a stupid misunderstanding get in the way.
Bryan’s out on a late-night beer run while I pace the floor of the living room, waiting for Ariana to answer. Finally, she does on the fifth ring, just as I’m about to give up.
“Hey, Alyssa,” she says, her voice sounding sleepy.
“It’s about damn time you answer,” I gripe, sounding harsher than I planned to. “I don’t know where you are, and you haven’t called me except to tell me you were fine when you got to wherever you were going.”
There’s a pause, and knowing my sister, she’s trying to come with some sort of lie. Except I also know my sister and lying isn’t her forte. Fortunately, she decides to go with the truth. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s been nice disconnecting from everything, from everyone. It’s been perfect for me.”
A truth I don’t find comforting. I sigh, pressing the phone to my ear. “Does that mean you still haven’t talked to him?”
“No, I haven’t. I’m not sure I’m ready.”
If she were here, I’d shake her. “Well, if you’d have answered your phone any time in the last week, I could’ve told you I had a visitor,” I inform her.
“Oh?”
The sudden interest in her voice lets me know not all hope is lost.
“He looked awful, Ari. I think this is really taking a toll on him.”
She snaps. “Then he shouldn’t have been so quick to rush to judgment.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to agree, but she continues quickly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you. It’s not your fault.”
I brush it off. “I’m just saying. Instead of running, fight for him. Hear him out. Get everything out in the open.”
There’s a slight pause. Then I have to strain to hear her whisper. “I miss him.”
“Honey, he misses you, too. Don’t you think you’ve avoided this long enough? Haven’t you found yourself yet?”
Ariana actually laughs, which is progress. “I think I found myself on that highway a couple of months ago.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, unsure of where she’s going with this.
“I’ve had nothing to do but think, and it’s given me time to put things into perspective. With our parents, who was I? I was the dutiful daughter, went to the school they wanted me to go to, chose the major they wanted me to pick and the job given to me. With Benjamin, I did the same thing. Whatever he wanted. And when I left Atlanta, it was because, for the first time, I needed to discover who I was without someone dictating it. I’ve realized I didn’t need to be alone to do that. I just needed to find the right person. And I did. While I was with Branson, I discovered who I was because he drew that woman out of me. Sometimes, I think Branson knows me better than I know myself.”
“Oh, Ari. You’ve always been that woman. She was just buried way too deep. He was able to break through all the bullshit everyone else piled on top of you.” I sniff, wishing I’d come to these conclusions days ago.
“I know. And the first time we had a fight? What did I do? I reverted back to my old self and just took it. I should’ve yelled at him. I should’ve screamed. Instead, I just accepted it and left. I’ve had time to realize that it was wrong. This whole time, I’ve been expecting him to put his past completely behind him when I haven’t done the same. We’re both works in progress, and it just became to be too much.”
“And now?”
“And now…I have a fiancé to get back.”
I cheer, hoisting my beer high into the air and not giving a damn when the liquid sloshes over onto my hand. “Yes! It’s about damn time!”
Not only did Branson and Ariana patch things up, they got engaged, found out they were pregnant, and have planned a whirlwind wedding that’s happening in less than a week.
My sister—go big or go home, I guess.
In addition to that latest development, things have moved full steam ahead with both Bryan moving in and the Filiatrault account moving forward. In fact, today’s the day the man in question is finally coming to Wellsley-Callahan to hear part one of Cheyenne’s marketing spiel.
Before being added to the support staff on this account, I had no idea how much time, effort, and repeated time and effort went into trying to seal the deal for an acquisition. I was completely ignorant, just assuming that the company being acquired would go to the highest bidder. But no. It’s like a freaking Broadway audition, and one false step, you’re eliminated.
Just like with Mr. Wellsley, I’m surprised at the appearance of Giorgio Filiatrault. The Frenchman is shorter than my five feet six inches and carries himself tall, even on his lean frame. Thick, black hair falls in curls around his shoulders. He’s incredibly young-looking, and I have to reread his biography in the packet to recall that he took over the company at age twenty-one when his father suddenly passed away. Currently at age twenty-seven, he decided that running the family business was not for him. And since their small yet increasingly yielding wine production continues to grow, it’s become a hot commodity.
Part of me wonders if Mr. Wellsley plans on using Filiatrault to start a whole wine enterprise within the company. It makes sense to me. People have been drinking wine, or some version of it, for millennia. Evolution has changed many things, but not that. We love our wine.
