Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

49. Ethan

CHAPTER 49

Ethan

PEOPLE ARE LIKE GRAPES

“ S o, you let her go, huh?” Gavin asks while he looks down at me from the metal staircase that reaches the top of one of the tanks.

“How did you know I was in here?” I snuck off to the lab because I was tired of Tawny looking at me with her depressing stare, asking if I had spoken to Marisa. She’s been gone a week, and it’s been the worst week of my life. Worse than catching Laura cheating, worse than breaking off the engagement, worse than Travis’s betrayal, worse than saying goodbye to Marisa the morning she left. Everything feels fucking terrible. If a doctor told me I was dying, I wouldn’t be surprised, because that’s what this feels like. Death.

“Your footsteps. You always walk like you can’t get somewhere fast enough. Like the pitter patter of an elf.”

“Pitter patter of an elf? I see Lily is still deep in the Christmas movies.”

He lets out a tired sigh. “All year round.”

Walking down the staircase, he rips off the hairnet covering his man bun. The man bun we all give him shit for, relentlessly.

“Why did you do it? Why’d you let her leave?”

Because I’m an idiot, that’s why. “Because I’m not going to force her to stay. She needs to make the decision for herself.”

It was the right thing to do. Deep down, I know it was, but doing the right thing feels like shit. I should’ve been selfish and told her to stay. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like my heart is cracking in half inside my chest.

“Well, what the fuck are you doing here? Go get her. She left, she’s there. Now go get her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

Gavin doesn’t get it. To him, everything is black and white, right and wrong. While I know some part of him will always carry love for Lily’s mom, to honor her memory, he’s never been in love. Not like this.

“People are like grapes,” he says.

I fight an eye roll. Here we go with his philosophical advice. “Please don’t keep going,” I groan, annoyed.

He raises his brows and smiles. “Each grape variety is different.”

“Jesus Christ. Why did I come here? At least Tawny doesn’t speak to me like she’s reading off a fortune cookie.”

Gavin laughs, walking toward one of the tanks. “Take this cab franc. It’s earthy, a little herbaceous. It can be a lot to handle.” He walks with his hands clasped behind his back like he’s in front of a lecture hall, enlightening his students. I couldn’t stop him now if I tried. He’s full-on philosophical chemist. He points to another tank. “But then there’s this cab sauv. It’s bold, complex, a little spicy, a real fan favorite.”

“Am I the cab franc and Marisa is the cab sauv in this scenario?” I ask, my voice deadpan.

“Exactly,” he yells, entirely too excited about this weird-ass conversation. “You see, when you mix them together, it makes for the perfect, well-balanced wine. Sometimes the most unexpected combinations create the best results.” He walks over to me and pats me on the back. “On their own, they’re great, but together, create something unique, something rare.”

“That was deep, Gav. I’m moved.”

He shakes his head with a perfected disappointed dad look. “You laugh now, but my words will haunt you when you lie awake tonight, alone.”

Heading for the door, I give him a dismissive wave. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll come back next time I need my palm read.”

Back in the cottage, I feel worse. So much of Marisa is still present. Some of her clothes hang in the closet, a couple pairs of her shoes are scattered by the door, her ridiculous coffeemaker is sitting on the counter, and the most unbearable of all is the sweet smell of vanilla she left behind. She left her car here, too, because there was no way that death trap would survive driving over the pass. Her dad bought her a plane ticket, and the plan is for me to bring more of her stuff when I go visit. The downside of that is now I’m surrounded by her things and her scent, but she’s long gone.

We were supposed to FaceTime tonight, like we do every night, so I’ve been sitting on the couch with my phone clutched in my hand for thirty minutes, but still no call. Just as I’m about to give up and call her, a text comes through.

Marisa: Sorry. Can’t talk tonight. I’m at the hospital.

I shoot out of my seat, panicked.

Marisa: Hillary had the baby.

My breath eases. Jesus Christ. The woman nearly gave me a heart attack.

Ethan: Ok. We’ll talk tomorrow. Tell Hillary and Archie I say congratulations.

I stare at my phone a bit longer, waiting for a reply, but it never comes. I hate this. I hate being apart. I hate not seeing her.

I wasted so much time trying to avoid her, to stay away, and now I’d give anything to have that time back. Goose paws at the door, looking at me, and then back to the door. He’s waiting for her.

I rise and go to scratch his head. “Sorry, buddy, she’s not coming.”

He whines, making a circle around me.

“I know. We’re two whiny little bitches without her.”

Goose and I get in bed, but instead of reclaiming his spot that’s been occupied by Marisa, he remains at the foot and stares at the empty pillow. He doesn’t understand that she’s not coming, and I think it breaks me even more.

I turn on the TV, playing it loudly because it’s so goddamn quiet without her. Meanwhile, my mind keeps repeating Gavin’s stupid wine analogy. Damn him for predicting it would haunt me. Of course, she’s perfect for me and we fit together like I never imagined I could with someone else. I stare at the ceiling. I stare at Goose. I toss and turn for several minutes. I try to focus on the TV, but that doesn’t work either. I’m a mess.

By ten o’clock, I’m still wide awake and anxious. My phone chimes, and Marisa’s name lights up the screen. It’s a text.

Marisa: You’re probably sleeping but here’s a pic of me and baby Josephine.

A few seconds later, a picture pops up of Marisa smiling brightly, holding the smallest baby girl. I stare at the image for far too long.

I’ve never seen her hold a baby before, and she looks so right doing it. The baby in her arms, an equal mix of Hillary’s round eyes and Archie’s red hair, soon distorts, and I’m imagining a baby with Marisa’s dark hair and her olive skin and my hazel eyes. The perfect mix of both of us.

What the fuck am I doing and why did I let her go?! I jump out of bed, so abruptly it makes Goose jump too.

“Come on.” I whistle. “Get your leash. You’re going to go stay at Grandpa and Grandma’s.”

In less than thirty minutes, I have Goose loaded in my truck with his overnight bag in my passenger seat. I should’ve sent a text to my parents before showing up this late, but I’m not exactly thinking beyond getting to Seattle as quickly as possible. I knock harshly and press their camera doorbell.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” my dad barks through the speaker.

A few minutes later, the front door opens and both of my parents stand at the entrance, very clearly having been woken up.

My dad groans and grabs on to Goose’s leash. “Drive safe. The pass is still shit.”

“How did you know I was going to Seattle?”

He looks me up and down, regarding me, somehow both proud and annoyed. “Wild guess.”