Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
When he got inside, it was dead silent. Menace sat perched on the edge of a dining room chair, her expression nothing short of a narrow-eyed accusation. Panic rising, he took out his phone and called Natalie, cursing a blue streak when it went to voice mail again. Maybe she’d just gone to Vos Vineyard? Maybe she’d been pissed off at him enough to move some of her things back to the guest house? Because, yeah. His wife was not in the bedrooms or the bathroom and her fucking toothbrush was gone‚ a fact that made his windpipe shrink to the size of a pinhole.
“No. No, no, no . . .”
Julian would know if she’d gone to the guest house.
He’d call Julian.
August didn’t notice his hand was shaking until he hit the number for Natalie’s brother. “Yes?” answered the professor on the second ring.
“Is Natalie there?” August barked into the receiver.
“She was. But she left.” A long pause, some creaking. “That was over two hours ago. She’s not answering your calls, either?”
“If she was, I wouldn’t be calling you!”
“Good point,” Julian said—and August really, really didn’t like the fact that this normally unflappable dude sounded worried. “All right. Take a deep breath. She was obviously upset, I just didn’t think she’d really leave—”
“She’s upset because I missed our meeting at the bank this morning. I know. I went to visit Sam and I couldn’t hear him anymore and I fell asleep. She wouldn’t just leave because of the meeting, though. Would she? She’d be here to fight with me. She’s supposed to be here.”
Julian remained silent a little too long.
“What?” August asked, dread curdling his blood.
“Corrine and I had a meeting with VineWatch this morning. It started just after nine a.m. When Natalie showed up in the driveway, I assumed she was here for the meeting. But my mother hadn’t invited her.” He cursed under his breath. “I should have done it myself.”
August was frozen in the middle of the kitchen floor. “Why wouldn’t you invite Natalie to a meeting with VineWatch? She knows that company inside and out. Better than both of you put together.”
“You’re right. She does.”
How was he still breathing with a fifty-ton anvil sitting on his chest. “So . . .” His swallow got stuck. “So you’re telling me I missed the appointment at the bank. And then she showed up at Vos and found out you were having a meeting without her.”
My wife.
My wife.
We crushed her. I crushed her.
August was back outside now and the chill of panic had taken firm hold of his jugular and both lungs. Barn. She wouldn’t be in the barn, but he had to look anyway.
He’d asked her not to go in there. Now he was desperate to find her inside.
Funny how fast things could change.
No. It wasn’t funny at all. He’d asked her to keep out of this place where he performed the ritual of winemaking in honor of his friend. He’d refused to involve her, just like her family. Pushed her away where it counted, while expecting her to come closer physically and emotionally. All the while . . .
He’d been the one putting up the barrier.
“Oh my God, I’m such a fucking moron.”
“August . . .” Julian sighed. “I haven’t told you the worst part. She said she was going to New York. Having a dinner meeting at some place called Scarpetta. It’s hard to tell if Natalie is being serious sometimes, but obviously . . . she went.”
Jesus. No. In the middle of the barn, August’s legs weakened. He dragged his hand down his face and viewed the barn and all of his equipment through raw, gritty eyes.
No wonder my wine sucks. It needed her. I needed her.
He was no better than her family. She’d tried so hard to get in, to be important to them, until eventually she gave up. He’d been so outraged on her behalf. Who could keep their distance from someone so incredible and smart and dynamic and lively . . . ?
Meanwhile he’d done the exact same thing.
He’d rejected her help. He’d rejected her. Denied them a chance to be closer because he insisted on feeling his way alone in the dark. He was like a man who refused to pull over and ask for directions, but a hundred times worse, because being valued, considered . . . it meant so much to his Natalie. He was supposed to be her safe place, but he’d been hurting her all along.
Now she was gone.
Somehow August knew something had changed before he even reached the row of barrels—and after pulling out a few stoppers, the difference was obvious. The wine had lost a lot of its cloudiness. Was less sluggish. And the taste wasn’t a 100 percent improvement—not so soon—but by God, it was a hell of a lot better.