Page 85 of That Friendzone Feeling
“I’venever made wine in my life,”Iconfess. “Allthis stuff is a mystery to me.”Ipoint at the images on the screen. “ButI’lldo some research and figure it out.ThenI’llcome up for a couple of days and help you get set up.”
“ThankGodfor that,”Maggiesays, squishing another pile of grated cheese between two slices of bread. “Idon’t want him blowing us up because he mixed things wrong.”
“Imight not know anything about wine,AuntMags, butI’mpretty sure it’s not volatile.”Iturn toJim. “Whythe sudden interest in making wine?”
“Youknow howIkept telling you allI’dbe bored ifIstopped working?”Jimquit his job as aBostoncity busdriver not long before they moved into this house, despite years of us telling him we could take care of them now.He’sa proud man and didn’t want to be “kept” by his kids and me andTom.
“Beingretired is nicer thanIexpected.Andwe’ve been busy—getting settled into the house and getting to know people in the village and all that.ButI’mat a bit of a loose end now.AndIthinkIneed a hobby.”
“That’sgreat.”Andit is.Thatwas always one of the points of our pact.Wewanted to give my aunt and uncle a life where they could do whatever they wanted. “Butwhy wine?”
“Ido like a nice glass of red,” he says.
“Hedoes,”Maggieagrees.
Elliotnods, his mouth full.
“AndI’vebeen thinking about it ever since talking to the guy who made the wineRosewas serving when…well, when we met her.”
Theless said aboutRose’sintroduction to our family—and toConnorspecifically—the better.Nothis finest moment.
“Oh, yeah.Thatwas homemade stuff, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.Andit was bloody awful,”Jimsays.Hisparents wereBritish, and a lot of their phrases are ingrained in him for life.
MaggieandIlaugh with him.Elliotsnorts and grabs a napkin.
“Youokay, love?”Maggieasks.
Elliotswallows. “Ithink some breadcrumbs just came out my nose.”
“Anyway,”Jimcontinues. “FiguredIcouldn’t do any worse than him.Andyour mom—”Hestops dead.
Jimsometimes accidentally refers toMaggieas mymom, and always feels bad about it even thoughI’vespent years telling himIdon’t mind at all.IfIhad to have a second mom,Icould not be happier it wasMaggie.Forhim to make that mistake is a sign he thinks of me like a son, and there could be no greater honor.
Isqueeze his arm. “It’sokay.”
“YourAuntMaggie”—he says her name deliberately—“is going to have a fantastic crop of fruit out there this summer, andIthoughtIcould put some of it to good use.”
“Byfermenting it?”Elliotasks.
“Exactly.”Jimgives a contented smile.
“Well,I’msure we can get you turning out someChâteaudeDashwoodbefore you know it,”Itell him.
Anotherfew pounds of the weight on my shoulders lifts a little, even at just this first thought of how great it will be.Spendingtime on a project like this withJimwill be therapy for me as much as for him.Andit’s a much more personal way to show my appreciation.Betterthan just buying them stuff.
“Okay, last one.”Maggieplants a plate with grilled cheese number three on it next toJim. “I’mgoing to put everything away now.Sodon’t either of you”—she waves her finger betweenElliotand me—“even think about asking for another one.”
Maggieturns back to the stove.
“Youshould have broughtEmilywith you,Walker,” she continues, picking up the pan and dropping it in the sink. “Itwas so lovely to have her here forChristmas.”Sheturns on the cold water, making the hot surface spit and sizzle. “Imean, not nice that she was here because she had man trouble.Butit was nice for us to have her around.How’sshe doing?Isshe getting over him?”
Yup,AuntMags, over him so much she’s been nakedwith me.Amazingly, beautifully, screaming-orgasmly naked with me.
“Yeah, she’s okay.She’sbeen inLAfor a couple of days on business.Comesback today.”
Maggiegrabs a dish towel, rests against the sink, and looks at me. “She’sstill staying with you?”Hergaze darts toJimfor a fraction of a second, and she twitches her eyebrows the tiniest amount at him.
