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“So, are you gonna come take me now, or what?”
Fuck the pork chops.
Epilogue
Enzo
Two years later
Tilly’s graduation day was worth counting down to, and Dad and the others in my life knew her return to Napa was imminent. Two weeks before her graduation, Dad, Mom, Robby, and even Ally would remind me how many days were left until I went to get her.
“Are you ever gonna marry that girl?” Dad asked three days ago. Three years into retirement, he still stopped in my office daily, but I wasn’t a grump about it anymore.
I looked up from my screen and hovered my fingers over the keyboard. “I got her a ring a while back.”
“As you should have,” he said.
“I can’t wait to give it to her, Dad.”
Dad had never grinned that widely at me.
It was true. Five carats, emerald- cut, and bezel set in gold. Classic and ageless. Once I propose, I know she won’t wear it often, but when she does, the emerald shape will accentuate her long, slim fingers. The gold will complement the warm undertones of her skin.
If she says yes.
After nearly two years of long-distance, countless flights between San Diego and San Francisco or Sacramento, I’d hope she’d be ready. When I took her to Mexico for her last spring break a few weeks ago, she made her postgraduate plans very clear—move in with me in Napa. I never asked. Never had to. This has been as much her home as mine.
I open the photos from Mexico on my monitor to reminisce. We stayed at an all-inclusive resort right on the beach and lived in our swimsuits for five uninterrupted days of paradise. Just Tilly, me, a metric fuck ton of cocktails, and unlimited sun and sand. I can still hear the waves crashing onto the beach as we soaked up the heat. It was the break she needed to recharge before finishing her thesis.
I click through the photos, landing on one from our hotel room. In the photo, she was standing in front of the bed, only in a bikini top, giving me a look for taking a picture of her half-naked profile, but it showcased her new hip tattoo. She got it the year before from the artist I mostly went to, and now, a large, wispy floral tattoo lives on the side of her hip and upper thigh. I found it’s exactly where I put my hand when I—
“Hey, Enzo. What do I need to cover while you’re in San Diego?” Ally asks, inviting herself into my office. She takes a seat in front of my desk, and I quickly minimize the photo album window. She couldn’t have seen it, but it’s an intimate shot.
“I need you on vine growth and make sure the rosé is ready for distribution. I’ll deal with red blending when I get back,” I list. She makes notes and nods.
“Are you excited?” she asks.
“Of course. Napa isn’t the same for me without her,” I answer, feeling my cheeks shift upward from the grin plastered on my face.
“You’ll have to come up with a special reserve for your wedding.”
I rub my temples. “Did Dad tell you?” I ask, and she gives me a quick nod. “I have to stop telling him stuff.”
“He’s just excited for you.”
“A reserve is a good idea, though. Maybe something sangria-inspired. She loves citrus anything. I’ll noodle it on the plane.”
Finally, one last flight to San Diego.
Tilly’s car finally died a few months ago, and she bought a brand-new, full-size Mercedes SUV through her trust fund. She hated having to use those funds, but when I offered to buy the SUV for her, she hated that idea more. It was a necessity, as she needed to drive between campus and her apartment, and this was what the trust was for. I made sure the car was titled in her name, though.
But after graduation, we’re driving her SUV nine hours north back to Napa. Her apartment came furnished, and on the phone earlier this week, she said she was about ninety-five percent confident that her things would fit in the car. I could only laugh when she said that.
Packing for this quick trip, I decide to leave the ring at home in my watch box. I’m meeting her mom and stepdad at the airport in Sacramento, and Tilly will appreciate it more if I ask when we’re in private. And it’s her moment to celebrate completing her master’s program.
My girl hasn’t changed much. She still had that youthful whimsy, and it was a relief that my heaviness didn’t take that from her. Over the past two years, it was my turn to stand by her. I took every call—whether she was stressed from school, lonely, or needed phone sex.
Thank God for video calls.
