“Like, sixty proof—Band-Aidwater,” Laine splutters, wiping her mouth before gagging again. I guess Jamal feels left out, because he turns and gags, too.
“We have to dump it.” Laine’s face collapses in misery.
“Fuck that,” I croak, still pressing a hand to my roiling stomach. “Haven’t you heard of wine slushies?”
Her misery melts into horror. “Wine slushies?! Withthat?!”
I clap her on the back. “There’s my Napa snob.”
Jamal tilts his head, considering. “Not a bad idea … That sangria slushy mix could make gasoline taste good.”
“Well, now we know what we’re serving all winter.” I smile grimly, then clap my hands as if to say,next!
By dawn, we have a plan. It’s not pretty, and it requires calling in every favor I’ve got, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Rachel’s sabotage destroy everything Laine and I have worked so hard for.
She doesn’t get to destroyus.
We agree to meet back at seven a.m., giving us a few short hours of sleep before the real work begins. I’m so grateful to Jamal I could cry, but I settle for a long hug through his hazmat suit. Then, Laine and I walk back to my cottage under skies the color of denim. I slip my hand into hers, and she begins to cry.
“Shh, Laine, everything’s going to be okay.” I pull her close among the sleeping vines in the cool, damp stillness where night greets morning. And I realize I really believe it. Because I know now thatthisis my saving grace. It’s her. And me. And the beautiful, terrifying, completely worth-it risk of a great love. Not my family’s vineyard, my work, not even my dreams, inherited, adopted, or otherwise.
“Zoe, I’m so sorry. About keeping Oregon from you, about the infestation, about everything.” Laine’s voice rumbles and scrapes through herthroat. “I know it was Rachel that contaminated our wine, but it’s still my fault. She was so furious with me, she took it out on Bluebell, and if I’d followed your dad’s protocol, we might’ve prevented the worst of it. I don’t care what I have to do to make it happen, but I’m going to decontaminate the winery before the showcase and Cosimo gets back. And then, I’ll—I’ll leave, if that’s what you want. Just please, believe me. I’m so sorry for ruining what you love most.” Her voice shatters on the words.
I brush a soft lock of her hair behind her ear, tilting my head back so I can take her all in, every ragged breath, every tear, every earnest, loving bit of her. How could I have ever doubted this woman’s devotion? “That’s not what I want, Laine. You haven’t ruined anything becauseyou’rewho I love most.” I run the bridge of my nose along her jaw before placing a light kiss in the hollow beneath her ear. “All we have to do now is try. Can you do that for me?”
She wraps her arms around my waist, crushing me to her, her head dipping to press her cheek against mine. “Iwill.”
A hope-starved heart hurts to the beat of its own blood. You get so used to the ache of not expecting that you see the world through a pain-colored hue. You don’t know the true color of happy or recognize all the shades of love.
Until one day, you do.
Laine holds me, tells me that she loves me, whispers into my hair how much she missed me these few days apart, and when we rise a few hours later, I swear the sun glows brighter than ever, a fat peach gilding the world just for us. The sky’s bluer, the chilly air fresh and tart. When Jamal shows up with a rainbow of trucks, cars, and even Trish and Darryl’s redneck tour bus in our parking lot at seven a.m. sharp, it takes my breath away.
I blink, wondering if I’m still dreaming as Jamal and half his team start passing out hazmat suits to a growing line forming behind his truck. My bat signal worked and then some—just about everyone I know is here to help scrub down the winery. River, Hannah, Maeve, Gloria, Teddy, Diego, Trish, Darryl, Gus, Martha, Ms. Betty and her whole horde of merry spinsters, Killian and the Genteelmen, and, I realize with a deranged laugh, about half my exes. TheEveryday Bon Vivantteam is here, too, Marisol looking foxy in hergettin’ dirtyclothes while Matthew bustles over, his arms loaded with shopping bags full of industrial cleaning supplies. Their extended team mills behind with walkie-talkies strapped to work belts, which I find inexplicably impressive.
“Hope you don’t mind we phoned in some reinforcements.” Matthew smiles and sets the bags at my feet. He catches me staring slack-jawed at all the kindness flowing into Bluebell Vineyards, and his eyes go soft. “We fight for our vineyards, Zoe. And our friends.”
I could kiss him all over his meticulously shaven cheeks. I’d been scared to tell Matthew and Marisol about the Brett infestation last night—what if they called the showcase off before we could eventryto save ourselves? But I see now that once again, my tendency to expect the worst from people led me astray. Behind him is an army ready to eradicate the Brett teeming across every surface, stirring rod, and barrel in our winery.
My heart squeezes as hope bursts in. When my eyes catch Laine’s, she looks at me as though to say,see how much love you have in your life.
And for once, I do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Our army of Brett-killers storms the winery like it’s Satan’s toilet. I’ve never seen so many people viciously scrubbing at the same time in all my life. Cleaning, relocating anything salvageable, then cleaning some more. This goes on at a fearsome pace all morning, with waves of people coming and going, until a delivery car shows up with a trunkful of pizza, and Marisol announces it’s lunchtime.
I’m about to have my third slice when my phone buzzes.
WARNING, it’s that bitch Rachel
Can you meet me in 10 min at Fort Queens?
WARNING, it’s that bitch Rachel
I heard about what happened.
The words hit me like bombs, setting off bursts of anger and hurt that electrify my blood. I shove the half-eaten slice of pizza in my mouth and leave it dangling there so I can type back.
