A Vine Mess (Love on the Vine #4)

17. Ella

I blinked my eyes open to bright sunlight streaming through the window. I expected to find myself on the couch in the living room, so I was shocked to be in my room, wrapped up in my blankets, still in the comfy clothes I’d thrown on when we got back from hiking the day before.

Wracking my brain, I tried to latch onto the last thing I remembered before apparently passing out for—I lifted my phone to check the time—somewhere about twelve hours.

Holy shit.

And then it came back to me.

Watching National Treasure with Liam. The way he’d loomed over me as he tickled me. That flare of desire that heated his eyes before he retreated to his side of the couch, turning their ocean depths the same color of a blue flame.

He must have carried me to bed.

My cheeks flamed. I had a habit of talking in my sleep, and I hoped like hell I hadn’t said anything weird when I’d been unconscious.

After scrolling through social media and texting my sisters to check in, I shuffled out into the kitchenette, where Liam had been making noises for the last twenty minutes—trying, and failing, to be quiet.

“Morning, Wildflower,” he said brightly, handing me a steaming mug of coffee.

“Morning, Wills,” I responded, inhaling the scent of the beans deep into my lungs. I glanced into the liquid before I took a sip, pleased to find it was exactly the way I liked.

My heart swelled at the realization that he knew how I took my coffee.

I took a seat at the narrow counter, clutching the mug between my hands while Liam turned back to the small stove where something that smelled like bacon sizzled.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Great,” I told him. “How did I get to bed anyway?”

Liam shot me a wink over his shoulder. “I carried you.”

I balked at that, my face blanching.

“Liam, I’m not exactly light.”

And I wasn’t. I was curvy, and had the ass to prove it.

Although…he didn’t seem to mind.

He scoffed. “You weigh basically nothing. The problem was you’re so fucking tall. I had to go sideways through the door to get you in bed.”

I was deeply pleased that he didn’t think I was heavy.

And I realized then that was yet another lie Alfie had made me believe about myself. I wasn’t skinny like other girls. In fact, none of my sisters except maybe Delia were. We had big butts and big boobs, and I actually liked that about myself. I was tall, yes—a few inches shy of six feet—but I wasn’t model thin. I had meat on my bones, and I liked to eat. I continued to do so when I was with Alfie, even when he complained about it, even when he made snide remarks about my appearance.

My girlfriend should be skinny, Ella.

Why aren’t you skinny, Ella?

You should skip a few meals, Ella.

But here I was with the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on, who was fiercely masculine but sweet and gentle with an undercurrent of sexuality running through everything he did, who hadn’t batted a single eyelash last night when I told him I wanted to eat my weight in pasta. He simply found a place that offered takeout and demolished platefuls alongside me while we laughed and joked at theorized about the National Treasure movies.

Shame on me, for taking so long to recognize what a catch he was.

Double shame on me for allowing Alfie’s shitty words to wriggle so deep into my brain that I was excited when a man told me I weighed nothing to him.

Looking at Liam, at the way he looked at me, the way his plush lips parted in a grin to reveal those straight white teeth through the tangle of his beard as he set a plate of eggs, bacon, and the random assortment of diced fruit we had left in the fridge in front of me…I rolled my shoulders back, exhaled slowly, and let those words go.

Let Alfie go.

It was about goddamn time.

After breakfast, Liam and I quickly packed up and loaded the van, ready to set off on the next leg of our trip, which would take us to Grand Teton Park and the Yellowstone area.

Before we drove away, I stood on our tiny lawn, surveying our cabin.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” I said wistfully.

Liam stepped up next to me, laughing softly. “I’m looking forward to not banging my elbows and knees off the walls when I shower.”

“Oh please,” I said with an eye roll. “You’re going to miss it too. Admit it.”

I looked up at him, and our gazes snagged for one heartbeat—then two, then three.

Finally, he said, “Fine, Wildflower. You’re right. I’ll miss this place too.”

Somehow, I didn’t think he meant only the cabin.

Somehow, like me, I thought he meant the memories we’d made there.

But those memories proved to be the very reason I was squirming in my seat a couple hours down the road. The energy in the van was charged with electricity, being in such close proximity after all the revelations of South Dakota sending a current across my skin.

Liam wasn’t doing anything wrong. In fact, he was being his typical self. Mostly quiet, content to listen to the Steve Cavanagh legal thriller audiobook we’d started on the trip from Rochester to the Badlands. But unlike him, I couldn’t focus on anything the narrator was saying, damn near going out of my mind with whatever was crawling through my veins.

Unable to stand it anymore, I slammed my finger into the pause button on his phone, sat up and turned in my seat to face him, saying, “Let’s play twenty questions.”

His left brow rose as he cut his eyes to me. “Alright…” he said slowly.

“I’ll go first!” I tapped my finger to my chin, trying to conjure a really good one from the depths of my mind. There were so many things I wanted to know about him—like…everything—and I had no idea where to begin.

So I started with a softball. “What’s your favorite gas station snack?”

“I don’t eat gas station snacks.”

I groaned. “Don’t be a spoil sport, Wills.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his beard. “Okay fine. I have a weakness for gas station hot dogs.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Gross.”

“They’re not like a foundational part of my diet,” he said, chuckling at my expression. “But every now and then, I get a hankering.”

“A hankering ?” I parroted. “What are you, fifty?”

He reached out and flicked my nose. “Thirty-four, thank you very much.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Brat.”

“Old man. ”

Mouths stretched wide in matching grins, mine so big my cheeks hurt, Liam and I simply stared at each other for so long that he drifted toward the shoulder, the rumble strips vibrating under our tires finally snapping us out of it.

Fuck, I was in so much trouble where he was concerned.

“My turn,” he said roughly.

I shifted myself so I faced the road, deciding looking at him dead-on was too dangerous—for both of us.

“Shoot.”

“Which of your sisters is your favorite?”

“Liam!” I squeaked, turning to smack him on the arm. “You can’t ask me that!”

“Why not?” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“I love each of my sisters equally,” I said with a huff, crossing my arms and throwing myself back against my seat.

“C’mon, Wildflower. You can tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I love each of my sisters equally,” I repeated. “Though I love them for different reasons.”

He lifted his arm and folded his fingers over his palm repeatedly in an out with it gesture.

That I could handle.

So I told him how I loved Chloe both for being the one to lead the charge with all of us growing up, and also for her ability to romanticize everything. How easy it was for her to find beauty in the mundanity of life and turn those moments into these incredible words on a page that resonated with people around the world.

I loved Amara for her fierceness and intelligence. How, even when Cal was doing everything he could to get her removed from head of the company, she slotted so effortlessly into her new position. Her first year as CEO and President of Delatou, Inc. had proved to be the company’s best, and that was all thanks to her ingenuity.

“And yours, of course,” I told Liam. “The canned cocktails were a huge part of that.”

He shrugged. “Mixology is a passion of mine.”

“And you’re damn good at it.”

Without taking his eyes off the road, he reached out and gave my knee a squeeze. “Thanks, Wildflower. Now what about Delia and Brie?”

“I love how Brie is such a gentle soul. She’s easily the most selfless of us, and when we were growing up, I think we all thought that would come back to bite her in the ass one day. That, as the baby of us, we’d somehow used up all the steel spines and stubbornness. But just because she’s also the quietest of us doesn’t mean she won’t hesitate to go to bat for any one of us in a heartbeat. She’s so fierce, but in this subtle way that makes you forget it exists sometimes.

“And as for Delia…well, Delia is a badass.” He nodded in agreement as I plowed ahead. “Did you know that when she and Owen were getting started on the distillery, the architect he’d hired insulted her, so she basically told him and Owen to go fuck themselves and walked right out? I’ve always admired that about her.”

“Her stubbornness? I’d say you’ve got some of that going on too.”

“Her confidence,” I corrected him. “How she refuses to take shit from anyone because she knows exactly who she is and exactly what she’s worth. And the fact that she has a backbone,” I added, quietly and wryly.

He heard me anyway. “You dropped the dead weight, Ella. You just have to find your way back to yourself.”

“I’m working on it,” I assured him. “And I hope you know how helpful you’ve been.”

Liam only nodded, clearly unsure what to say, and the conversation moved on.

“I’ve got another one for you,” I said.

“Shoot.”

“How come you’re always wearing Chateau Delatou merch?”

One corner of Liam’s mouth kicked up, but he was silent for long enough that I thought he wouldn’t answer me. When he did, it wasn’t at all what I was expecting.

“I like having your last name on me.”

Something feral and long slumbering within me opened its eyes, sights set wholly on him. Emboldened by his admission, I glanced pointedly at his tattoos and said, “Maybe you should make it permanent.”

A grumble emanated from him, and I giggled.

“Don’t tempt me, Wildflower.”

He would too. I knew he would.

After that, we chatted about benign things—favorite color; his was blue, mine was purple; what artists we currently had on repeat; favorite flower. I burst out laughing when Liam told me his was the Venus Flytrap, loving the grin that bloomed on his face when he got the reaction he wanted. He’d said it so calmly, so seriously, that I had to wonder for a moment if he actually meant it. That smile told me he was messing with me, and I loved it. Love that this conversation was something that would surely become an inside joke between us down the road.

Which had me wondering how we’d be when we got home from this trip. Would we hang out? Would we be…more than friends?

Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to find out.

But I needed to be present in this moment, wanted to enjoy this adventure with him at my side.

“For what it’s worth,” I said, “my favorite flower is African violets.”

“Those are pretty,” he mused. “And purple.”

I giggled. “I’m nothing if not predictable.”

He hummed noncommittally in response, then said, “Okay, I’ve got one for you.”

“Lay it on me, Wills.”

“What’s your biggest regret?”

The joviality from a moment before dissipated instantly, and my entire body stilled.

“What a loaded question,” I choked out.

Liam cursed softly under his breath and said, “Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

I waved him off. “No, I want to. It’s just…I never really believed in regret, you know? We all make our own choices. Sometimes they work out great, and sometimes they backfire. When I met him, I thought Alfie was the best idea I’d ever had.”

I remembered that day like it was yesterday. My sisters and I had gone to Detroit for a little girls’ weekend, and we’d been at this small music venue where indie artists performed. Chloe was looking for inspiration for her next novel, still searching for that hook that would be the thing to finally make all her dreams come true, and she got a bug up her ass about writing a rockstar romance.

I suggested we go see actual rockstars, like The 1975, but my sisters quickly vetoed that idea.

At that time, I’d been feeling a little restless, watching my sisters accomplish all of these big things while I worked at a flower shop. I loved my job, and adored Fanny, who was like a grandmother to me and my sisters, but…I’d been craving more.

And then Alfie came on the stage, his low, smoky voice ringing out over the crowd, and I was a goner. I’d been mesmerized by him, by how at odds his singing voice was with his whole vibe—the skinny jeans, the stupid studded collar he wore routinely for the first year of our relationship, the artfully distressed Metallica tee.

His voice was meant for cigar lounges and intimate gatherings, for velvet jackets and wing-tip shoes, not the grungy ass club we’d been standing in, nor the clothes that looked like they came from a dumpster.

Still, afterward, I couldn’t resist the pull to introduce myself.

In the early days, everything had been great. The first six months had been some of the best of my life.

But then Delia shared a video on her TikTok, a two minute clip of one of his shows. He blew up overnight, and everything changed. I didn’t blame my sister. Had she known what would happen, she likely wouldn’t have done it, and I would’ve remained blissfully unaware of the kind of man I’d shackled myself to.

It had started as little things: backhanded comments about my outfits, jokes about “more cushion for the pushing” when we had sex, especially when he took me from behind. Then he started traveling more, insisting I join him only to get pissed off when I couldn’t because I had to work.

Fanny would’ve let me go too, but I never told Alfie that. My job was the one thing I’d refused to let him take from me when every other thing I’d loved had been slowly stripped away or turned against me.

Except my sisters. Through the worst of it, despite how much they hated him, they were there for me.

That final month had been almost blissful in the sense that he’d pulled away considerably until we only spoke once every few days. I hadn’t minded—in fact, I’d relished the distance, savored the silence in my mind where his shitty words normally cycled constantly.

I could almost see the hit coming before it punched me in the face, that first “hey girlie” DM sending me into a spiral of shame and anger.

I didn’t tell Liam any of that, though. I wasn’t ready to fully air out that dirty laundry in front of him, knowing he’d never look at me the same again.

Finally, I said, “I regret that I wasted so much fucking time on him. Time I could’ve given to someone who deserved it.”

I gave him a wry smile as his thoughts flickered across his blue eyes, broadcasting them between us, mirroring my own.

Someone like him.