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He sighed, removed his hand, and twirled his fork in the pasta.
I sensed he was gathering his thoughts, so I didn’t push.
Once I’d eaten a little and picked up my wine glass, he finally said, “Everything reminded me of my dad. I’m the oldest, and Dad had spent the most time teaching me how to run the winery and vineyards. He’d made big plans, saying one day I’d take it over. Then, like now, I wasn’t sure if that’s what I really wanted. And being young and stupid, I figured if I could prove to him I wasn’t responsible enough to take it over, he’d leave me alone.”
West fell silent, and I studied him. I’d never really considered if he wanted to run the family business or not.
“Did you ever tell your dad the truth?”
After shaking his head, West met my gaze again. Regret blazed in the blue depths. “I should’ve stepped up. But I was so fucking young, only twenty when he died.” He paused before replying so softly I barely heard it, “I was supposed to be there with him and Beck, inspecting the orchard, when my dad had his heart attack.”
The death of Jeremy Wolfe had come not long after I’d lost my own parents, and most of that time had been a blur for me. I wondered if I hadn’t been in the car crash, then would I have noticed how the death of West’s dad had affected him.
He sipped his wine before continuing, “Me dicking around, always staying out late and shirking my responsibilities, probably added to his stress load. I sometimes wonder if I’d just been the good son, or maybe talked to him like a grown-ass man, he wouldn’t have had the heart attack that killed him.”
“Oh, West.”
He smiled wryly. “I know it’s fucking stupid to think me merely showing up one day would’ve changed everything. Or that the stresses of the business or all my siblings probably contributed to his heart problems, not to mention genetics and his love of bacon and greasy shit. I recognize that all now. But back when I was twenty? Andrea showed up, saying she was pregnant, and I saw my chance to run from it all. Then I wouldn’t have to wonder if my mom looked at me with anger, wishing I’d been a better eldest son. Or I could avoid Beck looking so damn haunted, after watching our dad die right before his eyes. Not to mention how confused Abby, Zach, and Zane had been, not understanding that their dad would never come home.” He drank some more wine. “I was a fucking coward, plain and simple. I justified it, saying I was doing right by Andrea, marrying her even if I didn’t love her. And I vowed to be the best fucking dad ever, to make up for being such a shitty son.”
West looked so sad and lonely that I couldn’t help but get up, walk over, and get him to push back so I could sit in his lap. His arms wrapped around me, and I held him close.
For a man who always tried to look strong and unaffected to strangers, he was deep and vulnerable and just a little broken.
A little broken like me.
We sat that way for a few minutes, me just wanting to comfort him until he was ready.
Eventually his angry laugh startled me. “If that wasn’t bad enough, I didn’t even visit my mom when she got really sick. I was too busy trying to help Andrea when she didn’t want it. At the time, it felt as if saving Andrea meant I could save myself, in some weird-ass sense of logic. But I failed at that too. I sometimes think that’s all I’m good at—failure.”
“No.”
He looked at me, and I added, “You’re an amazing father, West. Don’t even try to deny it. You love Wyatt and Avery so very much. Even when I couldn’t stand you, that one thing always stood out to me. You’re a good dad.”
His gaze softened. “I try. Though sometimes I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. And in a few years, they’ll be teenagers, and I’m going to have more gray hairs than I know what to do with.”
Part of me wanted to say I could be there. I could help. And yet, that meant thinking of a future, of allowing myself glimpses of happiness.
It should be easy, and yet, I still felt responsible for my parents’ death.
They’d want you to be happy.Maybe. But in this moment, I didn’t quite feel worthy of that.
Although for the first time in my life, West made me question if I should take a chance and hope I didn’t hurt someone else I cared for.
West squeezed me gently for a second before moving a hand to my cheek and caressing it with the back of his fingers. “That’s why I left, Emmy. Coming home was so fucking hard, but you’ve made it easier, both for me and my kids. So, thank you.”
I searched his gaze, unsure of what to say to that.
So I kissed him gently before getting off his lap. He let me go, watching as I sat across from him.
We ate in silence for a little while. Not really strained but almost as if we both had a lot to think about. West, about his family and probably his future. And me, about if I wanted to risk hurting a man who’d been hurt so many times before, if things didn’t work out between us.
And honestly? I hadn’t the faintest idea of what to do. So I attacked my food and drank my wine, hoping an easy answer would come to me.
Then an upbeat ringtone blared through the room, and West shook his head. “That would be my kids. Sorry, I need to take it.”
I shook my head. “Don’t apologize.”
He answered the call, and I watched as love and happiness filled his eyes. What I didn’t expect was for him to soon switch it to speakerphone and for Avery to ask, “Will you help us make up a story tonight, Emmy? Please?”
