Only You
Page 52
I nodded glumly. “I’m sure she does.”
“But.” Stella leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her eyes lighting up. “Emme loves a big romantic gesture. I think you could get her to give you another chance.”
“A big romantic gesture?” I blinked. “I’ve got no idea what that could be.”
“Me neither. And it has to come from you. Something to show her that you love and accept her for who she is and you want her in your life. I don’t think she’s looking for promises beyond that, Nate. And I don’t think you have to offer her anything but your willingness to be open to the journey with her.”
“I am.” I swallowed hard. “I’ll try.”
“Good.” She picked up her coffee and sipped.
“You know, I looked at some houses this week,” I went on, surprising myself. “And I was in this one, and it was like I could see it all so clearly—me and Emme and a family. I got chills.”
“You’re giving me chills.” She smiled. “So it’s all right there in front of you.”
“You’re right. It is.” I picked up my coffee and took a drink, although it was only lukewarm now. My mind was spinning—how was I going to make it all happen? There were so many pieces that needed to fall in place. How was I going to get her to listen to me?
“She’s visiting Mia this weekend,” said Stella. “She left about an hour ago and will be gone until Sunday.” Then she must have seen how crushed I was that more days had to pass before I could set eyes on Emme again because she laughed gently. “That is a very sad face.”
“I feel sad,” I admitted. “I don’t want to wait. I want to fix this.”
She tilted her head and shrugged. “You could go up there and surprise her.”
I sat up taller in my seat. “You think?”
“Sure. Why not?”
The gears in my head went into overdrive. “Stella, do you happen to know where she’s staying?”
“At the winery. Our cousin Mia’s place.”
“Could I ask you for contact information for Mia?”
She thought for a second, then pulled her phone from her purse. “Sure, why not? Mia loves a good romantic gesture, too.”
“Thanks.” I put Mia’s cell number into my phone, still not exactly sure how I was going to win Emme back, but positive I was going to try.
Tonight.
First, I called my boss and asked for the day off tomorrow, offering to work overtime next week to make up for lost billable hours. She said it wouldn’t be a problem.
Next, I called Rachel and told her I’d be coming from a different direction tomorrow and might need a slight adjustment on the pickup time, depending on traffic.
Finally, I called Mia Fournier.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Mia?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“I hope so. This is Nate Pearson. I’m a friend of your cousin Emme?”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Pearson?”
I detected a note of cool formality in her voice, and I didn’t blame her. She’d probably heard what a first class asshole I’d been to her cousin.
“For now, just hear me out.” I signaled, veered onto the on ramp to I-75, and hit the gas.
“I’m about to sit down to dinner with my family. Will this take long?”
“I hope not. Has Emme arrived yet?”
“No. I’m expecting her around nine.”
I checked the clock on my dash. It was six-thirty, which meant the timeline would be tight if I wanted to pull this off. But it could be done.
I decided not to waste any time beating around the bush. Mia was a businesswoman with a family and would appreciate my getting straight to the point.
“I’m in love with Emme, but I blew it. I need your help to win her back.”
“All right, Nate Pearson, you’ve got my attention. Speak.”
Twenty-One
Emme
Traffic was awful on I-75, and the drive to Abelard Vineyards was taking longer than usual.
I was cranky and tired. I’d been that way pretty much since Nate and I had split up. I couldn’t relax enough at night to fall asleep, and even though I tried to grab the occasional nap before nighttime events, I wasn’t always successful. Coco had suggested I take a few days off, maybe head up north and visit with Mia, get some rest. She was confident Amy could handle the events we had scheduled, and even volunteered to be on call if Amy needed help. I’d visited her earlier this week and she said she was desperate to get out of her house.
But she was happy, too. Who wouldn’t be in her shoes? Her new baby girl was healthy and beautiful, her husband was over the moon to dote on her, and her mother-in-law was on hand to help with her boys. When I left their house, I recited my affirmation all the way home in an effort not to let envy eat away at my happiness for her. It wasn’t Coco’s fault I was still hopelessly in love with Nate.
He was never far from my mind. Over and over again, I went over our final encounter, wondering if I’d handled it wrong. Should I have kicked him out? Demanded more answers? Treated him civilly? Told him the truth—that I wasn’t over him and had only taken the job up north to put some distance between us?
But I had no answers. I didn’t even tell my sisters about the post-breakup fuck—I was too embarrassed. Somehow I knew neither one of them would have given in. They’d have been stronger, able to resist his kiss and his touch and his cheap shots at my conscience. It was obvious he was miserable, and I was glad. He deserved it.
“I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship,” I said. I believed my affirmation. I really did.
But I was weak for him, and I feared I always would be. Distance would help.
Just after nine, I pulled around the circular gravel drive in front of a beautiful French-style farmhouse. Mia and Lucas came out the front door and greeted me warmly. Lucas kissed both of my cheeks and grabbed the little suitcase from my trunk, and Mia hugged me extra hard.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said, taking my hand. “I have you staying in one of the best little guest cottages on the property. Lucas turned up the heat earlier, so it should be nice and cozy for you.”
“Sounds good.” It was definitely chillier up here than it had been in Detroit. A cozy little cottage sounded perfect. It would be even better with someone to share it with.
I shoved that thought from my mind.
“I’ll take your bag over now,” Lucas offered.
I smiled at the handsome man, who spoke with a slight French accent. His scruffy jaw and lean good looks reminded me of Nate. “Thanks.”
“Are you hungry?” Mia asked, leading me inside the house.
“Actually, yes.”
“Perfect. I’ll get you some supper and we’ll have some wine. Come sit down in the kitchen. The kids are already in bed, so we’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”
I followed her to the big airy kitchen off the back of the house, which was modeled after the kitchen at Lucas’s family’s chateau in the south of France, where they’d gotten married. It was beautiful, of course, lots of natural stone in neutral shades, dark timber beams across the ceiling, walls soft slate gray, white-painted cupboards with open shelves, and Mia’s signature pop of color in vibrant pink flowers in a glass vase on the counter. I chose a stool at the marble counter and watched as Mia bustled around the kitchen, warming up something in a big pot on the stove that smelled absolutely delicious. She looked adorable—jeans cuffed a little higher than her ankle, maroon velvet flats, black long-sleeved shirt with a gray infinity scarf around her neck, hair twisted up into a messy bun. And she looked happy.
“So we haven’t had much of a chance to talk since you texted me,” Mia said, handing me a folded linen napkin. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“You mean why I accepted the job?”
“Sure, you can start there.”
“I’m looking to make a change.” I unfolded the napkin and placed it on my lap.
She nodded, pulling down three wine glasses. “Okay.”
“But.” Stella leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her eyes lighting up. “Emme loves a big romantic gesture. I think you could get her to give you another chance.”
“A big romantic gesture?” I blinked. “I’ve got no idea what that could be.”
“Me neither. And it has to come from you. Something to show her that you love and accept her for who she is and you want her in your life. I don’t think she’s looking for promises beyond that, Nate. And I don’t think you have to offer her anything but your willingness to be open to the journey with her.”
“I am.” I swallowed hard. “I’ll try.”
“Good.” She picked up her coffee and sipped.
“You know, I looked at some houses this week,” I went on, surprising myself. “And I was in this one, and it was like I could see it all so clearly—me and Emme and a family. I got chills.”
“You’re giving me chills.” She smiled. “So it’s all right there in front of you.”
“You’re right. It is.” I picked up my coffee and took a drink, although it was only lukewarm now. My mind was spinning—how was I going to make it all happen? There were so many pieces that needed to fall in place. How was I going to get her to listen to me?
“She’s visiting Mia this weekend,” said Stella. “She left about an hour ago and will be gone until Sunday.” Then she must have seen how crushed I was that more days had to pass before I could set eyes on Emme again because she laughed gently. “That is a very sad face.”
“I feel sad,” I admitted. “I don’t want to wait. I want to fix this.”
She tilted her head and shrugged. “You could go up there and surprise her.”
I sat up taller in my seat. “You think?”
“Sure. Why not?”
The gears in my head went into overdrive. “Stella, do you happen to know where she’s staying?”
“At the winery. Our cousin Mia’s place.”
“Could I ask you for contact information for Mia?”
She thought for a second, then pulled her phone from her purse. “Sure, why not? Mia loves a good romantic gesture, too.”
“Thanks.” I put Mia’s cell number into my phone, still not exactly sure how I was going to win Emme back, but positive I was going to try.
Tonight.
First, I called my boss and asked for the day off tomorrow, offering to work overtime next week to make up for lost billable hours. She said it wouldn’t be a problem.
Next, I called Rachel and told her I’d be coming from a different direction tomorrow and might need a slight adjustment on the pickup time, depending on traffic.
Finally, I called Mia Fournier.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Mia?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“I hope so. This is Nate Pearson. I’m a friend of your cousin Emme?”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Pearson?”
I detected a note of cool formality in her voice, and I didn’t blame her. She’d probably heard what a first class asshole I’d been to her cousin.
“For now, just hear me out.” I signaled, veered onto the on ramp to I-75, and hit the gas.
“I’m about to sit down to dinner with my family. Will this take long?”
“I hope not. Has Emme arrived yet?”
“No. I’m expecting her around nine.”
I checked the clock on my dash. It was six-thirty, which meant the timeline would be tight if I wanted to pull this off. But it could be done.
I decided not to waste any time beating around the bush. Mia was a businesswoman with a family and would appreciate my getting straight to the point.
“I’m in love with Emme, but I blew it. I need your help to win her back.”
“All right, Nate Pearson, you’ve got my attention. Speak.”
Twenty-One
Emme
Traffic was awful on I-75, and the drive to Abelard Vineyards was taking longer than usual.
I was cranky and tired. I’d been that way pretty much since Nate and I had split up. I couldn’t relax enough at night to fall asleep, and even though I tried to grab the occasional nap before nighttime events, I wasn’t always successful. Coco had suggested I take a few days off, maybe head up north and visit with Mia, get some rest. She was confident Amy could handle the events we had scheduled, and even volunteered to be on call if Amy needed help. I’d visited her earlier this week and she said she was desperate to get out of her house.
But she was happy, too. Who wouldn’t be in her shoes? Her new baby girl was healthy and beautiful, her husband was over the moon to dote on her, and her mother-in-law was on hand to help with her boys. When I left their house, I recited my affirmation all the way home in an effort not to let envy eat away at my happiness for her. It wasn’t Coco’s fault I was still hopelessly in love with Nate.
He was never far from my mind. Over and over again, I went over our final encounter, wondering if I’d handled it wrong. Should I have kicked him out? Demanded more answers? Treated him civilly? Told him the truth—that I wasn’t over him and had only taken the job up north to put some distance between us?
But I had no answers. I didn’t even tell my sisters about the post-breakup fuck—I was too embarrassed. Somehow I knew neither one of them would have given in. They’d have been stronger, able to resist his kiss and his touch and his cheap shots at my conscience. It was obvious he was miserable, and I was glad. He deserved it.
“I am deserving of a supportive, loving, awesome relationship,” I said. I believed my affirmation. I really did.
But I was weak for him, and I feared I always would be. Distance would help.
Just after nine, I pulled around the circular gravel drive in front of a beautiful French-style farmhouse. Mia and Lucas came out the front door and greeted me warmly. Lucas kissed both of my cheeks and grabbed the little suitcase from my trunk, and Mia hugged me extra hard.
“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said, taking my hand. “I have you staying in one of the best little guest cottages on the property. Lucas turned up the heat earlier, so it should be nice and cozy for you.”
“Sounds good.” It was definitely chillier up here than it had been in Detroit. A cozy little cottage sounded perfect. It would be even better with someone to share it with.
I shoved that thought from my mind.
“I’ll take your bag over now,” Lucas offered.
I smiled at the handsome man, who spoke with a slight French accent. His scruffy jaw and lean good looks reminded me of Nate. “Thanks.”
“Are you hungry?” Mia asked, leading me inside the house.
“Actually, yes.”
“Perfect. I’ll get you some supper and we’ll have some wine. Come sit down in the kitchen. The kids are already in bed, so we’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”
I followed her to the big airy kitchen off the back of the house, which was modeled after the kitchen at Lucas’s family’s chateau in the south of France, where they’d gotten married. It was beautiful, of course, lots of natural stone in neutral shades, dark timber beams across the ceiling, walls soft slate gray, white-painted cupboards with open shelves, and Mia’s signature pop of color in vibrant pink flowers in a glass vase on the counter. I chose a stool at the marble counter and watched as Mia bustled around the kitchen, warming up something in a big pot on the stove that smelled absolutely delicious. She looked adorable—jeans cuffed a little higher than her ankle, maroon velvet flats, black long-sleeved shirt with a gray infinity scarf around her neck, hair twisted up into a messy bun. And she looked happy.
“So we haven’t had much of a chance to talk since you texted me,” Mia said, handing me a folded linen napkin. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
“You mean why I accepted the job?”
“Sure, you can start there.”
“I’m looking to make a change.” I unfolded the napkin and placed it on my lap.
She nodded, pulling down three wine glasses. “Okay.”
