A Vine Mess (Love on the Vine #4)

33. Ella

“So tell me about yourself, Ella,” Bill Danvers said when we were seated at our table.

“What do you want to know?”

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Everything.”

A chuckle burst free, but if that’s what he wanted, that’s what he’d get.

I told him about growing up in Traverse City and spending our summers on the peninsula. How my sisters and I were raised on the vineyard, running rampant through the vines and generally giving our parents grey hair.

“That can’t have been easy for your dad,” he said. “Raising five girls.”

“I actually think it was easier on him than we were on Mom,” I admitted with a grimace. “That man…he’d do anything for us. And I mean anything , if you catch my drift.”

Bill nodded knowingly. “I’d do the same for my grandsons.”

I raised a brow. “Even Sam?” I blurted, then clapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry, that was rude.”

He just waved me off. “Yes, even Sam. I don’t think people are inherently bad. I just think they’re a product of their circumstances. Three has always been a much kinder, gentler soul who wanted absolutely nothing to do with the family business, and unfortunately, when Will realized that, Sam was the next best thing to take up the mantle when he eventually retires. But I’ve seen good in that boy, and despite the, shall we say, messy way in which he and Chardonnay—”

“Wait, her name is Chardonnay ?”

Bill sighed heavily as though he was annoyed, even going so far as to pinch the bridge of his nose before saying, “Yes. Awful, isn’t it?”

“It’s definitely a choice,” I said as diplomatically as I could. “Damn, I’m glad my parents hadn’t named us after wine varietals.”

Bill nodded sagely. “The point I’m trying to make,” he said, steering us back to the matter at hand, “is that despite the messy way they got together, they do actually love each other, and that sort of bond can go a long way for changing people for the better.”

For their sake, I hoped he was right. That this marriage union would make Sam a better person who maybe wouldn’t blindly follow in his father’s footsteps. Who, maybe one day, would be able to build a better relationship with his big brother.

I drained the rest of the marg and set the glass down, scanning the room in search of Liam. I found him talking to his mom, hugging her, and my heart expanded in my chest. I hated for him that his brother and father were such shitty people, but I was so grateful he’d at least had his mother and grandfather to pick up the slack, to remind him that he was loved no matter what anyone else might say.

I had them to thank for the man I got to love.

He let his mom go and turned toward the bar, and I couldn’t look away as he walked, forever mesmerized by the way that big body so fluidly ate up space. How he moved with such grace, each movement intentional. Everything about Liam was intentional, from his words to his actions to his clothes, his home, the people he chose to surround himself with.

It would forever be a gift that I was the person he’d chosen forever with.

He was maybe ten feet from the end of the line snaking toward the bar when a woman stepped in front of him—Mellie.

They exchanged words before she put a hand on his arm and gestured for him to follow her out of the room.

I saw red with that touch.

I’d never considered myself a possessive woman. Even watching fans throw themselves at Alfie after shows hadn’t done much to raise my blood pressure.

That right there should’ve been a sign I wasn’t as invested in the relationship as I should’ve been.

But everything was different with Liam, and I didn’t appreciate his ex putting her hands on what belonged to me.

“I’m sorry, Bill,” I said, rising from my chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

“No worries, Ella,” Bill said, patting my hand. “Just bring my grandson back with you.”

I gave his shoulder a squeeze as I moved past him, rushing across the room in the direction I’d seen them disappear, as quickly as I could on my stilettos. Eventually, I gave up, leaned against a wall to slip them off, then continued on my way.

Beyond the ballroom where the reception was held, hallways bobbed and weaved like a maze with numerous doors leading in all directions. On near-silent feet, I walked slowly, ears straining for any sound to alert me to where they went.

“So, ‘Liam,’ huh?” I heard someone ask faintly.

Coming to another corner, I peeked around it and into the room on the other side, finding Liam and Mellie standing in the middle of it.

Liam had his arms crossed over his chest, really testing the limits of that shirt as it strained against his arms and shoulders, looking entirely unimpressed and unwilling to be standing there.

“I’ve always gone by Liam,” he told her. “You just refused to call me that.”

“Because it sounds so…common.”

“Yet you allow people to call you Mellie.”

She snorted. “Touché. I’m just saying…you’re not common, Liam. You were destined for more than that girl you brought with you and being some vintner at some shitty little place in Michigan. Come home,” she implored him. “Take over this place with me. Let’s begin our dynasty.”

“No.”

I grinned at the absolute certainty in that word.

Mellie remained unperturbed and stepped closer, tiptoeing her finger up Liam’s tie, wrapping all five of them around it just below the knot.

I waited—waited for him to push her away, to step out of her reach.

Instead, I watched in horror as Mellie leaned in and pressed her mouth to his.

All the air left my lungs, and I swore my heart stopped in my chest.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

Tears blurred my vision, and I didn’t wait to see what happened next. I merely turned and ran, groping through my clutch for my phone, dialing my sisters before I was even safely ensconced in my room.

Our room.

God, it smelled like him.

I smelled like him. Every part of me was marked in some way by him. He was branded deep on my bones in a way I’d never be rid of.

Fuck, I thought this was it.

I thought I was done looking.

I was openly sobbing by the time Delia answered.

It was always Delia who picked up first, and that realization comforted me. When everything was spiraling out of control, it was nice to know some things would never change.

“Ella?” she asked. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“He-he-he—” I tried to force the words out around my choked sobs, but I kept getting caught on the next word. “ Kissed ,” I spat at last. “He kissed her.”

The proclamation was followed by a wail, and I collapsed to the floor, throwing my shoes angrily across the room, narrowly missing the TV and instead punching a small hole in the wall, the heel lodging itself there and staying .

“What the fuck is going on?” Amara asked when she joined the call.

Through my tears, I glanced at my phone screen, too distraught to pick it up, to see all four of them were there. With me when my world was falling apart.

The only goddamn people I could ever count on.

“Apparently, he kissed someone,” Delia explained. “I’m assuming he is Liam, but that doesn’t make much sense. That man is a fucking simp if I ever saw one.”

“What’s a simp?” a male voice asked, but Delia shushed him.

“Not now, QB. The grownups are talking.”

I choked on a laugh. “I don’t know why he puts up with you.”

“Me either!” Owen shouted from the background.

“Are you sure you saw what you think you did?” Chloe asked. “I mean, I agree with Delia. That’s very unlike him.”

“I know what I saw!” I snapped.

“Okay,” Brie said placatingly. She’d been doing that since she was old enough to talk, always playing referee amongst her four older sisters. “Okay, El. We believe you. Did you talk to him?”

“No. I ran.”

“Classic,” Chloe said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chloe looked chastened as she said, “Sorry. Just a book thing.”

“This isn’t a fucking book , Coco. This is my life .”

And it was once again in shambles around me.

“We know, sissy,” Amara said softly. “What do you need from us?”

“A flight,” I said quickly. “Get me a fucking flight. And a car. Get me out of here. ”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Delia asked.

“I just want to be home,” I told her.

“So you’re going to leave without giving him a chance to explain,” Chloe said.

“I love him,” I wailed, angrily swiping at my eyes. “And he fucking cheated . I’m not fucking doing this again.”

The reminder that I’d done this kind of breakup once before was a bucket of ice water over my head, and I rose to my feet, stripping off my dress and rolling it into a tight ball. I dug through my duffels until I found some comfy clothes I could wear to travel in.

The problem was…then, it hadn’t meant nearly as much as it did now.

“What’re you doing?” Brie asked.

“Packing,” I said, first heading into the bathroom where I unceremoniously swept all of my toiletries into a plastic bag and tied the handles, not even bothering to find the case. Then I stomped around the suite, haphazardly tossing the rest of my shit in my canvas duffels, leaving anything that was replaceable.

All of it was replaceable.

Apparently, even me.

God, when would I ever learn?

Certain relationships could change you.

Being with Alfie changed me in a negative way. He brought out all of my worst qualities and exacerbated them until I became unrecognizable to even myself. I became small, weak-willed, a welcome mat for him to step all over.

But being with Liam?

With Liam, I was...me .

The girl who loved pulling over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Wyoming to drop seeds that would hopefully lead to pretty wildflowers sprouting up at the edge of an endless field.

The girl who wore ultra-feminine dresses and floppy sun hats because they made her feel pretty.

The girl who loved a man because he deserved it, not because he'd guilted her into it.

And damn, did I love William Danvers.

I loved him for all the small things, like how he didn’t feel compelled to fill silences with idle chit chat. How he quickly learned my coffee order and got it for me every time we managed to stop for the night in a town with a cafe. How he walked behind me on our first hike in South Dakota, content to move at my pace, never making me feel like a burden for our slow progress because he was more worried about my safety and enjoyment than his own.

And I loved him for the big things too. The way he allowed me to come on this road trip, offering a hand to me when he saw I was struggling. The way he never belittled my dreams when I was brave enough to voice them. How he made me brave enough to voice them. The way he held me in his arms until my anxiety calmed that first night in the tent.

I loved the way he said my name like it was something to be savored. How, after the last of our physical walls fell, he was comfortable enough with me to initiate passing contact, like reaching over the center console in the van for my hand and giving it a quick squeeze. The gentle kisses he pressed to the hair at my temples when we stood side by side in line at a store or waiting to be seated at a restaurant.

How he made love to me, worshiping me like I was the goddess he prayed to every night—like loving me was his religion, and my body his church.

And the thing I loved most?

That he loved me for me, jagged edges, thorns, sharp words and all.

I was heading back to Michigan differently than the woman who’d embarked on this journey. I had changed, for the better, and it was all thanks to him.

It was just a shame we weren’t going back together. That he’d taken something so beautiful. So pure and perfect and rare and magical…and shit on it.

My sisters were silent while I packed, but just as I drew the zipper closed on the final duffel, two things happened at once.

First, Amara said, “Your car and flight are booked. Be downstairs waiting in ten minutes to head to the airport. Your itinerary is in your email.”

I relaxed a fraction. “Thank you, Mar.”

But as soon as I finished speaking, the door flew open, and Liam rushed inside.

Fuck, this was going to be harder than I thought.

“I gotta go,” I told my sisters and ended the call.

Liam and I merely stared at each other, his face stricken, mine surely red and splotchy from anger and tears.

“Wildflower,” he breathed. “What the fuck is going on?”