Almost Lover

by Steph Campbell

  “We’re celebrating the weather?” I slip on the boots I left by the door after I spot checked some withered vines with Jack earlier today. It’s not the cutest outfit, but it’s cooler tonight than it’s been in a while, and practicality makes me choose warm toes over any kind of fashion statement.

  Enzo doesn’t answer. He just takes my hand and leads me over the low grounds, the sky still black as pitch and star-flecked.

  I’d be lying if I tried to claim the little girl deep inside me wasn’t pirouetting over this entire scenario: an incredibly handsome guy showing up under my window in the dead of night, the two of us strolling hand in hand through the grounds under the silver moon as everyone else sleeps. I mean, as far as setting goes, you don’t get a whole lot more romantic than a vineyard in the moonlight.

  “No, we’re not celebrating the weather,” Enzo says with another loose laugh. “We’re celebrating love.”

  I stop dead in my tracks, my heart wedged in my throat.

  For the first time since we started, the smile slides off Enzo’s face. He puts his hands on my shoulders. “What the matter?”

  “Love?” I barely manage to gasp the word out.

  A smile bigger and brighter than before cracks across his face. He spins me around, dipping me low as he laughs like a maniac. “Yep! Love brought me to my fucking knees. I swore it off as something for clueless assholes. But love…love is going to bring a beautiful little girl into this world.”

  “Enzo, what in the world are you talking about?” My mind is racing, trying to figure out what brought this all on.

  “Here, hold these.” He hands me the glasses then pulls a corkscrew out of his pocket and gets to work on the vintage, explaining as he pops the cork and pours a generous amount in each glass. “My brother and his wife. I found out tonight that they’re expecting a baby girl. How amazing is that?”

  Love.

  For his brother and sister-in-law. For his tiny niece, on the way.

  Love.

  He hands me a glass. I hold it up and smile, a real smile. “To Uncle Enzo and your sweet baby niece-on-the-way.”

  “Uncle Enzo,” he says, shaking his head like he’s trying to wrap his brain around it. “Wow. I like it. Thank you.” He taps my glass with his.

  I bring my glass to my lips with shaking hands, sipping it slowly and savoring the perfect, chocolate notes. Amid the off-kilter craziness of this beautiful night, I realize I’m damn proud of this wine, of my work at this vineyard.

  Is that where my heart goes when I think of love? To the perfectly balanced notes of a wine that’s crafted like a work of art? It is, an art, and it’s beyond good. But is it worthy of love?

  For Enzo, the wine isn’t the focus of his love. It’s a compliment to the celebration of family and life, the beautiful, mysterious way we’re all interconnected. It’s so much bigger than this moment, this specific time and place.

  I’m so happy for him and his family.

  Yes, I’m genuinely happy for him. But that doesn’t make me any less sad for myself and…jealous, I guess. Which sounds so stupidly petty in the face of his beautiful news. I pull my robe tighter with one hand and swallow an overlarge gulp of wine.

  “That’s… that’s really special news for your family, Enzo. Congratulations.”

  Enzo moves to sit on the tiny bench just off the path, and I take the spot next to him, holding out my glass so he can give me a refill. This is one of Golden Leaf’s most expensive bottles and so not the kind of wine I should be guzzling to get drunk, but I have no patience for the rules of civilized drinking tonight.

  I drink deeply and try not to sit on his lap. We have no choice but to be as close as we are. The bench was a 4-H project, made at a cheerful sleep-away camp when I was a kid. My parents stuck it out here in the vineyard so the workers had somewhere to sit while they were on short breaks sampling the grapes. Honestly, I’m not sure its placement didn’t have something to do with the fact that it likely couldn’t support anyone’s weight for more than a short span of time. That’s one way to discourage breaks that drag on too long.

  Enzo ignores the bench’s ominous creaks as he downs his wine and cranes his neck back, gazing at the stars. I look up, too, but I bet they’re sparkling brighter for him on this spectacular, beautiful night.

  “My brother, Cohen, he got shit on pretty bad by his ex,” he muses, his voice low. “He could’ve become a bitter prick like me, but he didn’t. He got out there and he found love again—real love with Maren, his wife. And I seriously couldn’t be happier for them, you know?” He sits up, turns toward me, his eyes lit with this intense inner glow. “It—I don’t know. I guess…it gives me hope that there’s a second chance out there for me.”

  The way he looks, the way he leans close, I wonder, is he just saying it to say it, or is he saying it to me? But he doesn’t make a move, and I decide not to be a glutton for punishment. I smile. I gather up all my happiness for him, and I force myself to push my own disappointment back.

  “To love. And beautiful babies.” I raise my glass again.

  We clink our glasses a second time, and Enzo refills them both.

  “This bench has your name engraved on it,” Enzo observes, breaking our momentary silence. His fingers gently trace the sloppy cursive-ish letters I carved in the wood with a knife when I was nine.

  “Yep,” I say, smiling behind my glass, trying my best not to sink to new human lows by admitting I’m jealous of the way Enzo Rodriguez caresses this bench.

  “Was this like, your special place?” He wags a finger at me, his grin so adorable, my heart is doing Olympic level gymnastics. “C’mon, spill. Did you used to take all the guys here, Jordan? Holy crap, was this your plan all along? To drag me out here and try to take advantage of me on your special seductress bench?” Enzo laughs and moves closer to me.

  Close enough that I can feel his body heat. Close enough that I’m tempted to touch what I shouldn’t.

  “Well, that could be it,” I say, taking a cool sip that only works to fan the flames inside me. “Except you’re the one who dragged me out here, Rodriguez,” I point out.

  “Right, but that was before I knew you had this bench and that I’d be powerless to resist you once I sat on it with you.” He touches the scroll work I chiseled out so long ago, his hand dangerously close to the bare length of my thigh, exposed by my open robe. “I can’t resist these…what are they? Love spell carvings?”

  “Powerless, huh?” I ask, my fingers brushing his for a quick second. “Love spell carvings? I made this bench in 4-H. I don’t know if I was involved in any sorcery back then.”

  Enzo choke-laughs, putting his glass down and closing what little space there was left between us. “4-H?”

  I swat at his arm with the back of my hand, ignoring the tiny part of my brain that tells me to stop swatting at him and grab on instead. “Enzo, I grew up around this.” I motion to the sprawling landscape of earth chock full of growing life. “Agriscience is pretty much in my blood.”

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t picture it.” He shakes his head slowly. “What’d you do, taste test milk to determine which cows wandered into an onion patch?”

  “I don’t see what’s so funny, Enzo.” We’re both laughing hard, shoulders bumping, my hair draped over his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, I took second place in goat showmanship!”

  Enzo takes a long sip of his wine before shaking his head. “Second place is the first loser, goat lover.”

  “Enzo!” We both erupt into laughter so hard we nearly knock each other off the rickety bench.

  When we can finally breathe again, he takes my hand in his, stroking my fingers with his thumb. “Thanks for doing this with me. I was just so happy, I know it’s late—”

  “It’s fine. I’m happy to be here with you.”

  There was never a bigger understatement in the history of the world’s existence.

  We sit in silence for a while, the calm, steady happiness warm and swee
t between us. I finally work up the nerve to ask the question I’ve been dying to ask since the first day I met Enzo at my father’s wedding.

  I clear my throat and turn toward him.

  “I’m going to ask you something, and if you don’t want to answer, that’s okay,” I assure him. I twist my hands together.

  I’m startled by the white of his smile all over again. “You caught me on a good night, Jordan. Tonight, I’m an open book.”

  “Okay, so, I was just wondering because you’ve never really outright said—” I swallow. A few times.

  “You’re stalling.” He reaches up and tucks a strand of my hair behind my shoulder, letting his fingers slide down my arm. “Just ask me, doll.”

  “You left your home, your family, your friends and showed up in a town where you didn’t know a soul. That was all…because of a girl?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and wait. God, I’ve spent more time imagining details about this mystery girl than I’d like to admit, trying to get a handle on what she must have been like. I know a few details; he mentioned before that she was married, but she didn’t make that clear at first. Also that he got into a fight with her husband. That was apparently a ton of drama, but I’m curious about the simpler details. What she was like? Did she really love Enzo? What about her made him fall so hard?

  On one hand, I can’t picture a guy as handsome and charming as Enzo with a girl who was less than incredible in every way. On the other hand, what kind of cruel idiot woman has a guy like Enzo Rodriguez to love and just lets him go?

  “Ah,” he works his wide jaw back and forth. “If I say ‘yes,’ I guess that makes me pretty pathetic, right?”

  “No, not at all.” I take another sip of my wine and stare up at the clear sky. Enzo is right. This night is gorgeous. So gorgeous, maybe I should just try to enjoy it without mucking up a past he clearly wants to forget. But I can’t help myself. “I guess we’ve all had those times when we wish we could up and leave everything behind. Some of us just aren’t brave enough to do it.”

  “Or stupid enough,” he says with a light laugh. He must see how my face falls, because he rushes to explain. “Wait, I don’t mean that me being here is stupid, I mean—shit—”

  A part of me that’s always too hopeful loves how upset it makes him when he inadvertently upsets me. He’s a great guy, there’s no denying it. I’ve known that since the day I met him.

  “I know what you mean, Enzo. Don’t apologize. Seriously, there’s no need. But I guess that does bring me to the second part of my question.”

  “What’s the second part?” He turns to look at me and his nose grazes across my cheek. It’s a simple touch, but dammit, it feels intimate. I shiver, not from cold, but because I want more.

  And I realize if I shiver again, he’ll notice. He doesn’t have a jacket to offer me. Just his arms.

  Before we wade into territory neither one of us can handle, I go back to my primary question. The one that scares me so badly, I try not to think about it too much.

  “What happens when your heart heals? What will you do then?” I’m staring down at the bench, but I realize he’s waiting for me to look at him before he answers.

  His eyes are locked on my mouth when he says, “Who says my heart still needs healing?”

  I reach up and touch the thin linen of his shirt. I can feel his heart beating through the fabric.

  “Doesn’t it?” I’m afraid to ask, afraid he’ll change his mind and tell me his heart is still too broken for anything new.

  I’m equally afraid he’ll tell me he’s ready to love again. Because what if he doesn’t want me?

  Or, scarier still, what if says he does want me?

  He sucks in a quick breath through his teeth and settles his hands over mine, over his heart.

  “I don’t know. It feels pretty good right now.” That smile. I can’t look directly at it.

  “I’m serious, though.” I pull my hands back and fold them in my lap. “What are you going to do when you don’t need space from that pain anymore?”

  This time his smile is uncertain. He entire body goes still. “I’m not going to up and leave if that’s what you’re asking, Jordan. I like it here, I’m happy here.”

  Thousands of pounds of worry evaporate off my shoulders as soon as those words are out of his mouth.

  “Good, because we still need you.”

  “Well, now, that’s a lie and we both know it. You don’t need me, Jordan.” He runs a hand along the wooden seat of the bench, smoothed by years of use and exposure to sun and rain. I wish he’d been here at Golden Leaf for some of those years. I wish I could believe he wants to be here for more in the future—that this is more than a job. That maybe, just maybe, this is a place he could call home. “You run this show, and you do a damn fine job. To be honest, me moving on eventually is probably for the best when it comes down to it.”

  This is the worst possible direction I could have imagined this conversation moving in.

  “Don’t say that.” I shut my eyes and attempt to imagine life at Golden Leaf without him. And I hate it. I hate it so damn much, it makes my stomach turn.

  “It’s the truth, doll,” he argues. “How long do you want to live this lie? How long do you want to do all the work, make all the tough calls, and give all the credit away?” He pushes himself up off the bench and paces back and forth across the gravel.

  I stand up, then sit down, not sure what to do. I want him to stay, but I don’t know how to make that clear without asking for too much.

  “I know it’s not totally ideal, but I’m happy with this set up. As long as Golden Leaf is profiting, I don’t care whose name is on the employee of the month plaque.”

  “This is more than just copying off your neighbor’s paper once or twice in school, and you know it. I’m building a career that I don’t deserve.” He pushes his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m a goddamn fraud, Jordan, that’s not a great place to be.”

  “But you’re not a fraud! And you do deserve the credit, Enzo. There’s no doubt about that. You work just as hard as I do, if not harder. You put in long days, you take incredible initiative, you—”

  “Can’t stop checking out the boss’s daughter and wishing to god she’d let me kiss her,” he interrupts.

  We both stop talking, stop pacing, stop everything and stare at each other.

  “If you’re so unhappy here, I don’t want you kissing me.” I don’t want you breaking my heart and leaving me.

  “I just told you, I’m not unhappy, especially not when I’m with you.” He’s still staring at me. Unmoving. “I thought it was a crush. I thought it would go away, but I think about you more and more all the time. I can’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t want to stop.”

  “But is that enough of a reason to stay?” I nearly ask if I’m enough of a reason to stay, but I refuse to go there.

  “It’s enough for tonight.” He puts an arm around me. Pulls me close. Steals my ability to breathe and think and function like a normal person. “If you want it to be.”

  “Now who’s stalling?” I try to tease him, but my voice comes out scratchy.

  “Hardly stalling,” Enzo says, his hands tightening on my body. “Not about what’s important. Jordan, we can’t ignore this anymore. I can’t. I don’t know what could happen…maybe nothing. But we need to see if what we feel for each other is the real thing. Because I’ve never felt this way about any other girl before.” I’m so stunned, I just stare at him, trying to push past my shock. He leans close enough to tickle the side of my neck when he speaks. “Just figured I’d lay it all out, in the spirit of celebration and honesty and all.”

  “I think…” Okay, so I am the one stalling.

  I’m the one standing in front of a guy who is point blank telling me he feels all the things I was afraid I’d only imagined. He’s telling me he wants to take this risk and see where things between us could potentially go. The ball is in my court, and I can choose to
scurry back to the safety of my sheltered, comfortable life.

  Or I can put my heart on the line one more time, for a guy I truly believe might be the one.

  He’s waiting on my answer. But he’s not going to wait forever.

  I take a breath, drinking in the perfect smell of him, and I decide there’s no way I can walk away without knowing for sure. “I think you still owe me that date you promised.”

  He pulls me closer and runs his nose along my cheek, my neck. I realize he’s breathing me in too. It’s nice to know the addiction is mutual.

  “Coming to collect, huh?” he asks with a low laugh that makes my heart pound. “I was wondering if you remembered that.”

  How the hell could I forget?

  Before we can kiss, before we can discuss this more, he lets go of me and gathers up the bottle and glasses.

  “I need to get you home now.”

  “What’s the rush at this point?” I gesture to the purple hills, turning light gray in the breaking dawn.

  “You need to get all the sleep you can, because I’m picking you up at seven sharp after work. We’re going on that date. I have a lot of unanswered questions when it comes to you, Jordan, and I plan on figuring out some of them out.”

  “Um, like what?” I ask as he hurries me up the path. “What exactly do you need to figure out?”

  But he doesn’t answer until we’re back at my house and my hand is on the doorknob.

  He braces his arms on either side of my shoulders and drops his head so his lips just brush the curve of my ear. “I need to know what it feels like to kiss you as often as you’ll let me. What you taste like. What your skin feels like in all the places I’ve thought about touching a thousand times.”

  My heart is beating so hard, I barely make out his last words before leaves me pressed against my door as he heads back to his apartment.

  “What it feels like to call you mine. Even if it’s just for one night.”

  “You’re kidding me. No, I’m sorry. I’ve lied for you. I’ve faced Jack’s fists of fury for you. But I have to draw the line somewhere. This is ridiculous, Jordan. This isn’t even an authentic representation of Golden Leaf’s winemaking process.” I cross my arms over my chest and puff up, because it’s damn hard to tell Jordan ‘no’ when she’s made up her mind, so I need to put my foot down hard.