Page 32 of A Vintage of Regret
“Of course you can.” He turned, pouring her favorite wine into a glass and setting it in front of her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. Not in this moment. Honestly, I just wanted to be here and see you.” She briefly looked away before meeting his gaze and chuckled. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He tapped his temple. “Too late.” Having her here, in his space, felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like no time had passed at all. It scared him how easily they'd fallen back into this rhythm. And how much he wanted to believe this could be more than just grief bringing her to his door. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “I’m honestly glad you felt safe coming here, even if it’s not to talk, but just be.”
“I needed to be where I don’t feel like everything I say or do is being judged.” She lifted her wine to her rosy lips and took a tiny sip. “Despite our differences, at least you're not being a total asshole.”
Bryson reached out and took her hand. “Not the best compliment anyone has ever handed out, but I’ll take it.” He watched her composure finally shatter. She stared into her wine glass, tears forming and spilling over before she could stop them. Her whole body seemed to deflate, like she'd been holding herself together through sheer will and had finally run out of strength. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but you’re going to get through this.”
“I’m falling apart.” She wiped away a tear. “I can’t breathe. There are ghosts in this town everywhere I turn. I knew coming back would be hard. Death. Grief. I didn’t expect it to be easy. But I didn’t expect to feel… to feel… so much and be so empty at the same time.”
He opened his mouth to respond as the door opened again.
And in walked trouble.
Freaking Monica. Her timing was always so perfectly fucking bad. He knew she’d be in today. He’d been mentally preparing for that. However, it still shocked his system, especially with Riley sitting in front of him, looking like someone had ripped her heart out.
Monica smiled and waved. She wore heels too high for wine country and sunglasses too big for anyone except maybe a movie star—and she certainly wasn’t that. Her pale blue sundress clung in all the places she wanted it to, and her hair was styled in those waves he knew took hours to create because when they were married, that style always made them late. But Monica had insisted it gave her thatrunwaylook.
Talk about a woman who cared about optics—and knew how to create drama.
Bryson’s jaw clenched. He’d asked himself a million times what he’d ever seen in her, and he’d never been able to answer the question. She was shallow, only caring about appearances and money. Their relationship had been born out of lies, manipulation, and loneliness. It had been difficult from the beginning.
The marriage barely lasted two years, but it was still about five years of his life that he couldn’t get back.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?” Riley glanced over her shoulder. “Of course, she’d show up,” Riley mumbled under her breath. “She always did have impeccable timing.” She raised her glass and gulped downhalf her wine. “Except for when she was one of my best friends, then she was always too busy. Funny how that worked out.”
“I’m sorry,” Bryson mumbled. “I’ll do my best to get rid of her as quickly as possible.”
“Bryson.” Monica cooed, making a beeline for the bar like she owned the place. “I’m here for my wine and tasting boards. I also wanted to ask you about the garden party tomorrow. I hope you’re coming. You never did respond to the invitation or my personal note.” She gave him a smile that had once made his knees weak because she was a knockout, which made him about as shallow as her.
“Sorry. I can’t.” He stepped away from Riley with reluctance and forced a half-smile because that was all Monica deserved.
He waved to Olivia, one of the waitstaff. “Can you go get the order for Ms. Gilford?” No way was he leaving these two women alone. Thank the good Lord Monica had changed her name when they divorced. She hadn’t wanted to, but because she’d signed a prenup, if she wanted a dime of that settlement, she’d had to.
“On it, Boss.” Olivia shuffled off to the backroom.
Monica’s eyes flicked to Riley and narrowed. “Oh. I didn’t realize you had… company.”
“It’s a tasting room, Monica. I always have company,” he said, cocking his head. “And that’s not how I would describe Riley.”
“Right,” Monica said with distain dripping off every letter of the word. “When did you get back into town? And are you staying long? Is there a reason for your visit, because it’s been like forever, and didn’t you say you’d never return to this devil of a town?”
Riley raised an eyebrow, glancing between Bryson and Monica.
“Jesus, Monica. How could you not know? Or is your heart really that black?”
Monica gasped, placing her hand over her cleavage. “No need to be so rude. I simply asked a question. A valid one, I might add.”
Bryson threaded his fingers through his hair. “Her father just passed away the other day.”
“Sean died?” Monica blinked, doing her best to look shocked—but she didn’t pull it off. “I’ve been so busy with the party, I’ve hardly been out of the house or even looked at my phone much. I’ve barely had time to breathe.”
Bryson believed that like he believed the sky was pink.
Monica turned to Riley and dared to inch closer. That wasn’t good. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please let me know when the service will be. I’ll be sure to make a donation to whatever charity your family chooses and to send flowers to your mother.”
