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“Yeah, I am. But he conditioned me to be this way. Besides, it’s best that he and I focus on business and not personal matters.”
“Whatever you say, Michael. You know I always have your back.”
“I know you do—and I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” There was a beat of silence as she waited for me to say something more. But I was done talking about my relationship with my father. “All right, then, as soon as I get the approval, I’ll send the designs your way.”
“Sounds good.”
“You got everything else taken care of out there?” Mosby asked.
“Yep. The trailer comes the day after tomorrow, I think. I’ll be in San Diego until it gets delivered. The demolition crew and everyone else is lined up, ready for the go-ahead. I just need the green light from Allan. Should be within the month.”
I heard the faint clicking of a pen. “Sounds like everything’s under control. Let me know if there’s anything you need me to do.”
I hung up and drummed my fingers against the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio. Dad was three thousand miles away, and he was still irritating me. I couldn’t let anger and old resentments get to me now. I needed to let this shit go, get my head back in the game, and focus on the project, not the bullshit surrounding it.
I rolled down the window and breathed in the salty air, counted to eight, and exhaled slowly. Deep full breaths to get my anger in check, the way my shrink taught me to do, and focused on the road in front of me.
I loved my job. I really did. I loved building and creating. Nothing I could do about my boss—I was stuck with him unless I wanted to set out on my own, start from the ground up, and try to build my own empire. I’d miss working with Mosby though. And Matthew. Even though I resented him a little, he was still my brother.
I looked at the ocean as waves crashed onto the sand—wave after wave coming into the shore. My anger dissipated.Keep it going, Michael, get your shit in check.
I checked the clock. I was making decent time. I scanned ahead as far as I could see, trying to find any glimpse of a billboard for coffee. At this point, I’d settle for gas station sludge. With the pounding inside my head from my hangover and an acute bout of irritation brought on by thoughts of my father, I needed caffeine. Driving and breathing in the clean, salt-laden air, my thoughts drifted back to last night—drinking and male bonding with Jax.
And thank god for him. Jax O’Halloran was one of my best friends from college. We tried to see each other at least once a year. When my father told me I was going to San Diego, I left with a few days to spare so I could hit up Jax and hang with him before I had to make my way down to the claustrophobic hellhole I’d be stuck in for the foreseeable future.
There was a Starbucks and a quaint little shop that boasted “liquor.” I pulled into the lot, considering both as I stared at the ocean before me. All I wanted was to get to the hotel ASAP. I’d have to settle for an espresso. I could always have a stiff drink or a beer after I checked in.
Coffee in hand, I walked to the edge of the road and found a post to sit on and watch the ocean waves. The gulls swooped down from high in the air and waddled along the sand. The smell of the beach—salt, fish, and sea—wafted up to my nostrils. The wind blew cool and crisp, the briny air relaxing me. I had the most spectacular view before me, and I felt at peace. Everything was going to be all right. Everything would work out. Somehow, someway, I would find a way to get everything I wanted out of life.
Unless Allan Blaire found a way to fuck it all up.
Again.
Siena
Igot to the tastingroom a little after ten o’clock. Another familiar space that brought me comfort. Things looked the same as I remembered. Dark wooden floors. A small but cozy bar and tasting area lined with chairs. Tables made of old wine barrels surrounded by stools offered seating and conversational spaces.
The clean scent of lemon lingered in the air. The counters and tabletops were meticulously cleaned. I checked the bar, making sure the wine bottles were organized in a fashionable way and that glasses were set up for efficient pouring.
Jenny got in about thirty minutes later. She was one of my best friends and had worked for us for years. We chatted for a few minutes before the customers began arriving. That we hadn’t seen each other in over a year meant we had a lot to catch up on.A lotto talk about.
The girls—Jenny, Audrey, and Lauren—knew most of my story already, at least the highlights. But I didn’t want to have to retell it over and over and over, so I figured I’d rip the bandage off and tell itoncewhen we had girls’ night.
It felt good to dive right back in at the winery, and I knew my grandparents appreciated having me around. Pops had his meeting with the new owner next door, so I didn’t expect him until later, but his absence made me wonder what would happen with the old property that was once the only inn in town.
Five o’clock came quicker than I expected. Closing time was officially six, and there were still a couple of customers finishing up.
Four people sat nearby. Two women wore flowy dresses, perfect for the cool spring day, a guy in a dress shirt opened at the neck, and another who wore a polo shirt and baseball cap. I freshened their waters and cleared away their appetizers.
With the rush over, and all but Baseball Cap and Dress Shirt gone, I looked around the almost-empty room. Jenny came back, and I placed my phone facedown on the lower ledge of the counter, turned toward her, ready to get the dirt, pick her brain, and make her spill the beans. After all, she was one of us, so she’d have some idea of what was going on. I urged, “So tell me...” I paused for dramatization. “Have you heard anything about this Blaire guy?”
“The what guy?”
“Not the what. Thewho. Blaire.”
“Nope.”
