Page 100 of A Vine Mess
As we unloaded our bags, a bellhop appeared with a cart,greeting us brightly.
“Welcome to Renault Vineyards! May I ask what the name on the reservation is?”
“Danvers,” I said.
“Ahh, wonderful! Here for the wedding, I presume?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for my response as he clicked the side button on a radio and relayed my name to presumably the front desk.
“Unfortunately,” I told him under my breath.
“Excellent!” he said, clearly not having heard me. “How are you related to the happy couple?”
“I’m the groom’s brother.”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” he said cheerily as the last of our luggage was loaded. “Well, if you’ll follow me, we’ll get you all checked in and settled in your suite. The rest of your party arrived a few days ago, and I’m sure they’ll be pleased to know you made it safely.”
“I doubt—”
Ella elbowed me hard in the side and said, “Yes, I’m sure they will.”
The bellhop hummed the entire way into the gilded lobby, wearing my patience dangerously thin. As I looked around, returning for the first time in a half a decade to this building I’d once spent so much time in, I could see what Ella meant.
Itwasgaudy. Ostentatious and cold and sterile despite all the gold accents and rich fabrics.
I barely paid attention as the woman behind the desk checked us in, handing over two antique-looking keys that I knew were actually less than twenty years old.
“Pierre will bring your bags up,” the desk attendant said, gesturing to the bellhop. “We hope you enjoy your stay!”
“Not fucking likely,” I mumbled as we turned away.
“Deep breath,” Ella said as we walked away.
“Sorry. I just…being back here—it’s hard.”
“I know,” she assured me. “But you’ve got me, and we’re going to make the most of this weekend, just like we have every other moment of this trip. Okay?”
I couldn’t argue with her, not with that determined glint in her eyes or her vehement words and how deeply I knew she believed them.
“Okay, baby,” I said, hauling her in and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Whatever you say.”
“I love you,” she reminded me. “That’s the only thing that matters.”
“Yeah,” I said, stopping right there in the middle of a narrow hallway, guest rooms branching off from each side, and spun her to face me so I could kiss her properly. “But I love you more.”
Ella grinned. “C’mon. Let’s go freshen up and find something to eat. I’m fucking starving. Breakfast feels like years ago.”
I smiled in response, grateful that she was picking up the slack at a moment when I desperately needed stability, when my level-headedness seemed to be failing me for the first time since…well, since the last time I’d been in this place.
There had been days, in the aftermath of the implosion of my and Mellie’s relationship, where I genuinely believed I’d never find the woman meant for me. The one who was my equal in all the ways that mattered, but who loved me just as much for our differences as for our similarities.
And then I met Ella Delatou, and that was the day my life changed forever.
Those four years apart were worth it to have her pressed against me now, by my side as we navigated this next adventure.
Ella and I spent the bulk of the following morning and afternoon in bed, tangled in each other, pausing only to eat or use the restroom. She knew I was trying to lose myself in her, doing whatever I could to avoid facing my family, and was all too happy to oblige. I loved her even more for it—that she wasn’t pushing me to do something I wasn’t ready to do.
Then again, I’d never be ready.
Finally, we couldn’t avoid it any longer, though I did give her another orgasm in the shower before we peeled ourselves away from each other to get ready.
