Page 70 of Love Beyond the Illusion
Jack and I exchange intense looks in the mirror, weakening my knees. He removes the brush from my mouth when it fills with white bubbles. “Spit.”
I cup both hands around my mouth before spitting into the sink. Then, he runs the toothbrush under the water. He’s still flush with my back, and even when I bend, he does the same, moving with me.
When I straighten, my eyes bounce over to the scar above his eyebrow. “Tell me the story about how you got that scar.”
Looking at me through the mirror, he brings the toothbrush up one more time. Because I now respond to his every move, I open for him again.
Jack clears his throat. “I think I was about seven years old when it happened.” He softly brushes in a circular motion while I stand almost limp, letting him take care of me. “I played outside all day, but it was time for dinner. I remember my mom calling me in, and as a typical kid, I wasn’t ready to come yet, so I took off into the vineyards.” Jack rinses the brush and hands me a cup to rinse. “I thought it was funny until I heard the inflection in her voice change, and it seemed like she was getting worried. I turned around too quickly, slipped on some rocks and dirt, and fell forward into the wires and vines. I was so hysterical that I think every staff member on the entire property came running.”
I turn to face him. He runs his hands through my hair and leans down to kiss the tip of my nose. I clutch the lapels of his collared shirt. “I bet your mom was upset.”
“She was.” Jack glances at himself in the mirror. “We should get going.”
“Okay,” I reply, flattening the subtle wrinkles in the fabric of my dress.
Jack gives me another once over. “I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands off you tonight.”
I fluff my hair a few times while he heads into the living room. “You’re going to have to try. We have a show to put on.”
“We do.”
I walk out of the bedroom to see him leaning against the corner of the wall with that same look on his face from earlier.
“Oh no, not again!” I laugh.
He pushes himself off and stalks toward me. “It’s tempting,” he whispers, swiping his wallet and keys from the counter behind me.
“Yes, I know, but we have somewhere to be!”
He chuckles without a response, then intertwines his fingers through mine, like it has become so natural, and then ushers me out of the door.
The short car ride to the winery hosting the event this year is not made in silence like so many other car rides before. Jack talks to me about his family’s annual crush event. He explains that in Dupara, the harvest season events are as big for the winery owners and the community as they are for the tourists that flock here each year.
“People who aren’t in this community don’t understand how close and loyal they are to the authenticity of winemaking and its lifestyle. Most of the families have been here for generations, some settling in Wine Country as early as the late 1800s,” Jack tells me.
While he explains the brief history of this region, I study the features of his face, taking in his sharp jawline and lips—the ones that have now touched every inch of my body.
“That’s interesting. No wonder they’re wary of outsiders. They take so much pride in being involved in all aspects of their community,” I say.
“But to a fault sometimes,” he responds while parking the car in front of what appears to be a gothic Victorian-style manor.
Peering out the window and through the ominous blanket of night, the overpowering building and endless rows of cars suddenly awaken my nerves.
I feel Jack’s eyes on me before I hear him speak. “You okay?”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “Yes. A little nervous, that’s all.”
“You look beautiful, and remember, you’re not the one being judged here. I am. You’re only here to make me look good, and I know without a doubt that you’ll be successful at it.” Jack palms my cheek with one hand, then runs his fingers through my freshly blown hair. “Your job is to show up, drink wine, and be pretty.”
I smile up at him, leaning into his satisfying comfort. “That sounds like the perfect job for me. I will be the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had.”
His expression briefly falls, then his eyes lower before darting back up to mine. “I don’t doubt that.”
Once Jack drops his hand from my face and opens the door to exit the car, I am empty and alone. It’s not until he’s on the other side, opening my door, and extending his arm for me to take—that I feel whole again. It’s an unnerving feeling, and this conflicting emotion is unfamiliar to me. Forced to grow up too soon by being the unexpected caregiver of my mother’s emotional well-being, I’ve grown accustomed to only having myself to rely on to meet my own basic needs. Has my guard dropped already?
We link arms as he guides us to the dark wood double doors with the intricately designed brass doorknobs. I suck in one more breath of precious air to calm my nerves right as the heavy doors swing open. With my hand firmly placed in Jack’s, he leads me through a small crowd, waiting at a small bar area to my left. I glance to the right to see another group waiting to take tastings directly from an oak barrel.
“It’s absolutely magical in here,” I say, my heels clicking on the floor as I follow behind him.
