Soon, the landscape shifted into neat rows of vines and low hills, sun pouring gold across the fields. The vineyard’s main building rose in the distance, picturesque with warm wood, glass walls, and climbing roses, and my heart went soft around the edges.
Adrian parked, killed the engine, then turned fully toward me.
“Happy anniversary,” he whispered.
It knocked something loose in my chest.
“Happy anniversary,” I echoed, brushing my fingers along the stubble he’d missed shaving because he’d been too excited to leave on time.
He kissed me before I could say anything else. A slow, unhurried kiss that tasted like breath shared, like gratitude, like home. His hand slid to the back of my neck, creating a shiver that liquefied me from the inside out.
I melted into his touch, my fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer until our breaths warmed each other’s lips.
When he finally pulled back, he gazed into my eyes with quiet intensity.
“You good?” he murmured.
“Yeah, better than I ever thought I’d be.”
His smile turned tender at the edges. “Come on. They’re doing a reserve tasting for us. Private table. Gorgeous view.And,”—he lifted a brow—“I may have requested the chocolate-and-wine pairing.”
My favorite. They did this thing with the caramel that dripped and literally melted in your mouth.
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.”
The air smelled like warm earth and grapevines. Roses climbed the trellises near the tasting room. Adrian intertwined our fingers as we walked, stroking over my knuckles in that absent, tender way that always reminded me he was my home.
The hostess greeted us, then led us not to the main tasting room, but out a sliding door onto a private terrace that overlooked the back of the vineyard. A small bistro table was set for two, shaded by a blooming wisteria arbor that cast lavender shadows over everything.
Adrian gave me a proud little grin. “Reserved it weeks ago.”
My heart tugged tight.
We sat, and the first pour arrived—a crisp white with citrus on the nose and sunlight in every sip. Adrian’s knee brushed mine under the table. My foot hooked around his ankle. And somewhere between the second and third tasting, he swiped a crumb from my lip and then kissed the spot he’d touched.
I caught his mouth, stealing another kiss, and another.
By the time the chocolate pairing arrived—dark with sea salt, milk with caramel, a truffle dusted in cocoa—I was feeling tipsy but wasn’t sure if it was from the wine or him.
He fed me a piece of the caramel chocolate, and I swear it melted slower than he kissed me.
The server pretended not to see.Bless him.
After the tasting, we wandered down one of the vine rows, gravel crunching softly under our shoes. The sun hung low, highlighting the dark grapes to the color of amethyst. Adrian walked close enough that his arm brushed mine with every step.
“You know,” he said softly, “I dreamed of this place while you were in the hospital. I thought it was lost to us, our past, our good memories, the life we dreamed of.”
“I did too,” I admitted. “But now… it feels like that was the blueprint for something better.”
He stopped walking, turned to face me, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“What we have now…” His voice lowered. “It’s better than anything I pictured.”
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, my hands sliding up his chest, his mouth opening under mine with a soft, relieved sound that curled heat low in my stomach.
The vines around us rustled in the breeze. The world narrowed to breath and touch and his fingers at the small of my back, pulling me closer. We weren’t rushing. We weren’t desperate. We were savoring.
