“Got it. OK, it says here that she got her business and master’s degrees at Michigan State and ran an event planning business in Detroit for years. And he was a professor in New York. A master’s,” I mused. “And married to a professor. I bet she wants someone better educated than me.”
“Stop it. Or you get no meat tonight.” He looked at me threateningly over one shoulder as he turned the steaks in their marinade.
I held up my hands. “That is a serious threat. Stopping.”
“Tell me what else it says.” He tossed the chunks of potatoes in some olive oil.
“OK, let’s see. Here’s some press clips about the winery.” I read the sound bites out loud, followed links to full articles, and took plenty of notes. Apparently, Lucas Fournier purchased the land from a grower who was trying to expand the red wine scene in Northern Michigan, which hadn’t taken off the way the white did. He was particularly interested in making Gamay and pinot noir, so the next thing I did was research those grapes. I also read that Lucas Fournier had opened a successful absinthe bar in Detroit, and I read an interview in which he talked about being modern without sacrificing authenticity. About being willing to take risks. About trusting your gut even when common sense tells you otherwise.
Before I knew it, an hour had passed and Sebastian was asking if I was ready to eat.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I said, sliding off my chair at the breakfast bar. “What can I take out?” We were going to eat on the patio, at a little outdoor dining set he’d bought at an antiques store this weekend.
“It’s all ready.” He opened the door for me and I stepped out, gasping with delight when I saw the little dining nook under a tree in one corner of the patio. He’d put a light blue tablecloth on the round table, set it with candles, and strung lights in the branches above. “It’s not a villa in France, but I hope you like it.”
“Oh my goodness! This is perfect!” I clapped my hands and grinned at him. “Thank you so much for making dinner. Sorry I wasn’t better company tonight.”
“I’m just glad you’re here. I know your mind is elsewhere.” He pulled out a chair for me, and I sat down.
“I’m learning a ton. Did you know that the Duke of Burgundy banished the Gamay grape from his kingdom in 1395 because it competed too well with pinot noir, which was his favorite? He called it an evil, disloyal plant.” I laughed, spreading my napkin in my lap. “Kind of funny that those are the two grapes Lucas Fournier has.”
“I did not know that,” said Sebastian, sitting across from me. “Tell me more, since we are drinking the Duke’s favorite tonight, an Abelard Pinot Noir, in fact.”
My heart fluttered as he poured. I loved the way candlelight played with the light green of his eyes. I loved that he’d just made steak and potatoes and salads for us and set up this beautiful, romantic little spot. I loved that he’d encouraged me to go after this job, which I was even more excited about now that I knew more about the forward-thinking young owners. I loved the way he touched me, like he still couldn’t believe I was there and might disappear at any moment. I even loved that he looked at me with sadness in his eyes sometimes, because I knew it meant that he was struggling with things in his mind but letting his heart win. He hadn’t had any episodes the entire week.
At least not that he’d admitted.
But I’d given up trying to guess at every expression on his face, every silence he retreated into, every tense one-word response to a question I was hoping he’d answer in elaborate detail. I accepted him for who he was, and how hard he was trying. The chance he was taking with me. I knew how difficult it was for him, and I loved him for it.
Holy shit, what?
You heard me. I love him for it. Just a little. Shut up and let me.
I picked up my fork, dropping my eyes to my plate. That was OK, right? To admit to yourself you’d fallen for someone? I mean, it didn’t have to be a big deal. It was just a feeling. A nice feeling, in fact. A nice, deep feeling. Who wouldn’t fall hard and fast for someone like Sebastian?
And God knows I like things deep, hard, and fast.
I stifled a laugh as I stuffed my face with potatoes, and Sebastian looked at me a little funny but didn’t say anything, which only made my feelings stronger.
But I wouldn’t say anything to him. Jesus Christ, I could only imagine what he’d do if I told him I loved him. I didn’t really have any hang-ups about it—I came from the theater world where everyone loved everyone, loudly and proudly (of course you could hate someone in that world and still love them loudly and proudly too, but that was a different matter)—but I felt that Sebastian wasn’t the type to use or hear a word like love lightly.
“So what do you think I should wear to my interview?” I asked with mock seriousness. “The navy and white striped skirt or the black dress? This is life or death, so think hard. I really want this job.”
“Hmm.” He sliced off a piece of New York strip and chewed while pondering. “I’m a little partial to the black dress for obvious reasons, but I also like the striped skirt. You were wearing it the day I saw you at the beach.”
My jaw dropped. “You remember that?”
“Of course I do. With a white blouse and bare feet.”
“Well, I actually had shoes, just not when I ate sand in front of you. God, that was so embarrassing. I wish I could go back and undo it.”
“Don’t you dare.” He picked up his wine glass. “If you hadn’t fallen on the sand, I never would have talked to you.”
“Never?” I asked incredulously. “Come on. Yes, you would have. You came in to the shop later that day.”
He shook his head. “I came into the shop because I’d just come from my therapist’s office. And the reason I’d called an emergency meeting with my therapist was because of my run-in with you.”
I set my fork down. “So you’re saying if I hadn’t fallen on the beach, you wouldn’t have talked to me, you wouldn’t have needed that appointment, and you wouldn’t have been in the shop that afternoon?”
“Exactly.”
I sipped the wine and let the flavors mingle on my tongue. “Do you think we’d have found each other eventually?”
He shrugged. “Hard to say. I probably would have done my best to keep avoiding you.”
“Why?” I set my glass down. “I thought you always liked me.”
“Fear. It’s powerful.”
“Yeah. I guess.” But I hated the idea that we’d been such a near miss. In my mind we were destined to meet. Fate was powerful too, right? “So maybe…it’s a good thing I got fired? I mean, that’s what led me to the beach.”
“Maybe.”
My mind was already working backward. If Sebastian and I were the real deal, not only was it a good thing I’d gotten fired, but it was a good thing I’d done Save a Horse, a good thing I’d hated New York, and a good thing my career as an actress hadn’t taken off. Not only that, but it was a good thing he hadn’t married that tart in Manhattan. My God—Sebastian could be married right now! Eating dinner in some New York apartment with some other woman across from him! Someone who didn’t understand him at all.
For the first time, I felt grateful for the crappy decisions I’d made in the last year, because they’d all led me to this table, this man, this moment. It gave me a little boost—maybe, somewhere deep inside me, there was a woman who knew what she wanted, and what’s more, she knew what to do to get it.
• • •
Tuesday morning dawned bright and sunny. A good omen, I thought. Per Sebastian’s advice, and because I thought it would bring me good luck, I dressed in the navy striped skirt, pairing it with a bright pink blouse this time. Based on the web site and the wardrobe I’d seen in pictures, Mia Fournier looked like a woman who appreciated color.
I’d spent Monday night at home since I’d wanted to get a good night’s sleep and look refreshed, and Sebastian and I tended to stay up too late when we were together. My mother made me eat breakfast (a cherry turnover, which I ate standing up and leaning over my plate so I didn’t drip on my blouse) and wished me luck before heading out.