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The day has gotten away from us and by the time we leave the bedroom it’s nearly ten o’clock.
“Breakfast, Miss Somerville?” Jack asks, a cheeky smile on his face as he enjoys his own words a little too much.
“Don’t call me that,” I reply, cocking my head to one side and winking at him as I grab a few tomatoes from the basket on the counter.
“I call you Lulu and you tell me you hate it. I call you Lu and you tell me to stop. So I call you Miss Somerville and you hate that too. If I wasn’t certain you loved me I’d be getting a complex.”
Jack leans over the island, resting his elbow down and slipping his other hand behind my neck, he pulls me closer until our lips are nearly touching and whispers, “I’ve got something else I can call you.”
I smile against his mouth knowing exactly what he’s thinking and despite all my reservations, I know it’s what we need to do. He needs his job and I need the vineyard, and we will make this work.
I slice the tomatoes as Jack works on frying eggs and bacon, grumbling about American bacon not being as good as Australian, and we get into our regular morning debate about American coffee versus Australian.
“Our last morning like this,” Jack announces looking around the house before his eyes fall on me.
“Why do you keep reminding me?” I ask, again that lump forming in my throat at his words and my thoughts begin to swirl with all the possible scenarios.
“Because everything is going to be just fine,” he says, tucking a piece of loose hair behind my ear. “And because I know you’re stressing. It’s written all over your beautiful face. It’s that love/hate thing we do, Lu.” He winks at me and my heart flutters in my chest.
We finish up breakfast and ready ourselves for the rest of the day with Jack heading off to finish up some work and me off to meet with Ellen.
We’re standing on the front porch together and Jack slips his hand in mine giving it a little squeeze.
“See you tonight for dinner?” I ask, reassuring myself that we’re still on, as that ever-present clock ticks away the minutes. Each one that passes bringing us closer to the time we sort of agreed upon.
It was more Jack’s idea than mine and since he’s way more confident about it all, I let him have his way.
“You can just stay,” I say, seemingly out of nowhere.
“But what fun would that be?” he retorts, knowing exactly what I’m talking about.
“This isn’t much fun for me,” I whine, hoping to get my way. “Or I could come with you,” I try and Jack shakes his head slowly, a firmness to his decision and I push my lip out still trying for a win.
“You keep pouting like that and I just might give in,” Jack replies, leaning down and taking my bottom lip in his teeth. “You’re a terrible distraction, Lulu.”
“You mean I might win this?” I ask, my voice teaming with excitement as I fling my arms around Jack’s neck.
“Not a chance, beautiful girl.”
He kisses me quickly and steps off the porch giving me a flick of his hand as a way of good-bye.
“Love you!” I call out and when Jack looks over his shoulder his stunning blue eyes focusing on me, I convince myself that everything will be just fine.
By the time I get back to the house everyone is already there. I’m running late since I spent most of the afternoon sorting out a bunch of housekeeping shit that I left in limbo for the last few months. I had spent so much time with Jack over the last two years; finally letting a few things go here at the vineyard. It was probably much needed.
Jack has taught me how to let things go, how to delegate better and how to take care of myself without losing what I love about the business.
Olivia runs to me the moment the door opens, throwing her arms around my waist and squeezing me.
“This is the best day ever!” she yells throwing her head back and laughing as she wraps her hand around my wrist and tugs me toward the backyard.
“Why’s that?” I question as we make our way to where I can already hear Jack and Will talking loudly about some football draft or something.
“Because Mom let us get two cakes. We never get to get two cakes,” she says bouncing up and down and now clapping her hands.
I smile at her, but I’m struggling, wondering if this is really happening and I tease her with, “Mom said you couldn’t eat the cake until tomorrow though.”
“What?” she says stopping in her tracks and then bolting out the back door screaming for Ellen.
