Almost Lover

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Almost Lover Page 23

by Steph Campbell


  “What were you thinking?”

  I love him!

  God do I love Enzo Rodriguez.

  I tilt my chin up defiantly at my father.

  “I’m free to stay the night with whomever I choose,” I say firmly.

  “And I’m free to question whether or not I think those people are good enough for my only daughter,” he snaps. “What man has his lady lie about where they’re going just to spend the night with her? If it were so above board, Jordi, why lie?”

  “He’s a good guy, Dad.”

  I wish I could introduce you, but then you’d know the whole truth. You’ve already met him. You’d never believe me when I say he isn’t what he seems on the surface. He’s so, so much more.

  “And taking you to a competitor’s vineyard? Of all the places to take my girl? That’s low, Jordan. Even you have to admit that.” He huffs out a disgusted breath. “Just disrespectful.”

  I can’t stand hearing him talk about Enzo this way.

  “It was an interview, Dad!” I blurt the words out. I may have dug myself into a deep hole, but I don’t want him thinking negatively about Enzo. “I went with him for a job interview.”

  Dad freezes. Trying to process what I’ve said.

  “You had—”

  “No,” I say, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “My friend had an interview. I just went to stalk out the competition.”

  “Oh,” Dad says. Like all the magic pieces have finally clicked into place.

  “Are we good now? We can eat in peace?” I pick up my fork, but I have no appetite anymore.

  Dad reaches up and loosens his tie. “I apologize.”

  “It’s not a big deal. Just please drop it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Appetite or not, I have to do something other than sit in stilted silence, so I eat mechanically for a few minutes. Finally I notice my father squirming and sigh.

  So this isn’t done yet?

  “What is it, Dad?”

  “Alright then.” He clears his throat and spreads his hands on the table. “I did call you up here for something other than lunch—and because I miss you.”

  “To interrogate me?” I ask, dryly.

  “No,” Dad says. He shakes his head, looking maybe a little embarrassed. “I have something of my own to confess.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t confessing,” I qualify. “You hounded me.”

  I’m trying to joke, to lighten things back up with my father.

  It doesn’t work.

  “Jennifer and I—things aren’t working out,” he says in a rush. I glance down at his hands and notice the gaudy wedding band she bought him is missing from his left ring finger.

  “What?” I stab my fork onto my plate, missing the salad and scratching it sharply with the tines. “It’s only been a few months, Dad. How did this happen already?”

  He leans back in his chair a little and folds his arms over his chest, looking sheepish.

  “I know. Can’t say you didn’t warn me—”

  “Dad,” I say, guilt pouring over me. “This is not what I wanted for you. I’m so sorry.”

  “Wish I would have listened to you before the big day. Before I said vows without a prenup, that’s for sure,” he mutters.

  “Oh, god,” I moan. “No prenup? Jesus, did Mom not teach you anything?” I don’t mean to say the last part out loud.

  “Live and learn,” he says, throwing his hands up like this is no big deal.

  “Dad, I’m so sorry. I know I never really connected with Jennifer, but I hate to see this happen, truly.”

  “Well, it’s not gonna be pretty, that’s for sure,” he agrees. “Especially with the adultery and—”

  “Wait. What?” All my pity for Jennifer flies out the window. What an asshole! “You must be joking. She cheated? Already? Doesn’t that negate whatever claim she has to the cash?”

  My father is silent.

  My heart drops.

  “Dad?” I say, pulling the word out.

  “She didn’t cheat.” He does not make eye contact.

  What?

  Oh.

  Oh!

  “Dad, you didn’t,” I whisper, dropping my fork on the tablecloth.

  Why is he doing this to me? I don’t want to feel empathy for this woman who I’ve held responsible for the final demise of my parent’s love affair. But dammit, my dad is forcing me to side with his plastic child bride.

  “I tried to deny myself—” he begins, hanging his head.

  “Oh, god, I don’t want to hear that. Just stop,” I say. I toss my napkin onto the table as I stand up. “Today has been full of people demanding answers from me for my totally acceptable behavior as a single person, and you! You’re an adulterer?”

  “Jordan, lower your voice,” my dad hisses, looking over his shoulder to ensure that none of his country club buddies heard the news.

  I can’t. I’m so angry and I’m not even sure why. I don’t know whose side to be on here, and it feels strange and gross. I pull my purse from the back of my chair.

  “I need to go.”

  I set up the last of the chairs near the gazebo.

  I haven’t seen Jordan at all today, I need to track her down so we can finalize the last details, but mostly, I just want to check in with her. I miss her, even after just a few hours apart. I start to dial her number to find out where she is on property, but I pause when I feel someone watching me.

  I turn slowly, straightening my tie as I do.

  It’s Mrs. Caletti. Standing cross-armed and looking fierce.

  “Hello, Enzo,” she says, and I’m surprised there aren’t snow flurries coming out of her mouth.

  “Mrs. Caletti,” I nod and move slowly, like they warn you to do in the presence of a predatory animal.

  “Enzo, did we ever hire anyone for that open position for a tasting room sales associate?”

  A simple question. Okay, good. She’s pissed we didn’t get a position filled quickly enough. It’s not like she found out I’ve been having wild sex with her daughter every chance I get.

  “No, ma’am, we haven’t had many applicants. I’m sure it’ll pick up once the kids are out of school again. We’ll find someone reliable.” I don’t relax too much. Mrs. Caletti isn’t the kind of lady you let your guard down around.

  “Alright. Keep on that, though. It’s never good to have too many openings. We need to keep a full staff around here with as busy as we’ve been lately.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say with a nod.

  “And did Jordan get with you about the pest problem?”

  “No, ma’am. I actually haven’t seen Jordan at all today. I was just going to find her, though, I can touch base with her about it then. She and I have a couple things to iron out before we open the gates for the private party.”

  I’m not about to tell her that one of those pressing matters is me getting Jordan out of her fancy little dress and onto the counter in the stock room so I can help her ‘unwind’ before the big party.

  “Jordan can wait.” She sits on the bench seat of the gazebo and motions for me to do the same. “We need to talk, Enzo.”

  Shit.

  I’m caught. She’s probably already hired a sniper to take me out. I’ve never met anyone who reminded me more of a bond villain than Mrs. Caletti.

  “If you’re worried, I did triple check the produce order, just like I promised,” I say in this jittery voice I don’t even recognize. I want to reach up and loosen the tie that’s strangling me right now, but that just screams guilt, right?

  “I’m sure you did,” she nods slowly. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Okay,” I swallow hard and hope she doesn’t notice the way I’m struggling to draw in a good breath.

  “I know.”

  Those two cold, stark words undo me.

  “I’m sorry?” A wave of nausea takes over and I struggle for the right words. I wonder how I can answer this—how I can fix it without taking Jordan down wi
th me. That’s all that matters. Protecting the woman I’ve fallen so hard for.

  “I—” should I go and get my stuff? Move out?

  “The trip you and Jordan took. I knew there was more to it than meeting with a vendor. At first I thought it was— I thought it might be something else, but I know Jordan and she isn’t one to mix business and pleasure—”

  “Mrs. Caletti, I swear to you, nothing happened with Jordan and me,” I lie. I lie through my damn teeth to save myself and Jordan.

  She waves me off. “Oh, Enzo, I know that. Jordan has her eye on the prize—and that is making sure this vineyard is thriving, not romance.”

  I should feel relief, but I feel sick instead.

  Is that the truth? Has this all been a game to Jordan?

  “What are you saying, Mrs. Caletti?”

  “The interview, Enzo. I know about the interview. I know you and Jordan weren’t visiting family. You had an interview with a competitor, did you not?” she asks, her voice tight.

  Before I can answer, she continues. “And Jordan, always the workaholic, went with you to check out our competition. I knew something was going on with her.”

  I feel like I should be relieved. Happy that it’s only the interview Etta knows about. I can fix that. But I can’t shake the sick feeling that’s tearing my gut to shreds.

  “I can explain that,” I attempt, but she cuts me off.

  “No need. My source says you were basically poached, that you tried to turn it down, and that animal wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She scoffs. “No respect among businesses these days.”

  “That’s right,” I say weakly.

  “But you did go, didn’t you, Enzo?” she asks. “I mean, of course you did. And Jordan, so worried about the prospect of you leaving Golden Leaf, tagged along.”

  Is that really why she came with me? No way.

  “Is that what she told you?”

  “That she went to keep an eye on you? No, I haven’t discussed this with her yet, but I know my Jordi. She’s a bit of a control freak.”

  “I didn’t take the job, Mrs. Caletti, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  I need to find Jordan. Now.

  “But you might. And that’s what I need to prevent.”

  My head is spinning. “What are you saying?”

  “I am a proud woman, Enzo, but I’m not above begging. You have turned this entire place around and I cannot afford to lose you. I won’t lose you.” Her voice is steeled.

  “Mrs. Caletti—”

  “Please, stop with the formalities and call me Etta. We’ve gotten to know each other well enough with you here the last few months.”

  That’s false. I like Jordan’s mom just fine, but I’ve only managed a few passing words with her since I officially started at Golden Leaf.

  “Etta, I didn’t take the job. I’m happy here at Golden Leaf.”

  “I need a promise, Enzo. I need you to promise me that you won’t leave us. Not yet. Give us a couple more seasons. I will find a way to pay you what you were offered by those—” she pauses and clears her throat, “Other gentlemen. Just give me a number. I’ll figure out a way, Enzo. With a contract, of course.”

  “Mrs.—Etta, listen, we have a ton of things left on the to-do list before we open tonight, and I am not going anywhere—”

  “Promise me, Enzo. I can cut the staff if it means keeping you. Hell, I can have Jordan taken off the payroll—”

  “Wait.” I nearly choke. I hold my hands up. “Just wait. You can’t be serious? Jordan is the lifeblood of this place.”

  “Jordan is the boss’s daughter. I love my daughter very much, Enzo, but her father is a wealthy man, she doesn’t need the income we pay her here—”

  “You can’t take away her job, Etta, that’s insane.”

  I can’t believe what’s happening, how twisted it’s all gotten.

  “I’m not saying I am, I’m only saying I’m willing to. You are indispensable. Jordan has a wealth of options, she could go back to school—”

  “She quit school. She put her education aside—she put everything aside—to help at Golden Leaf.”

  “I understand your loyalty to my daughter because she is the one who recruited you here to Golden Leaf, Enzo, And I admire that quality tremendously, I hope that loyalty will inspire you to stay on here.”

  “It’s all Jordan.” The words tumble out too quickly, I can’t stop them.

  “What is?”

  Do it, Rodriguez. Stop living a lie. Her mom needs to see the truth about her daughter. I owe this girl—the girl I’ve fallen in love with.

  Dammit.

  I suck in a deep breath, knowing that it may be the last bit of air I even inhale on this property. Mrs. Caletti is going to kick my ass to the curb, and I’ll be on my way back to Silver Strand by the end of the night.

  “Jordan didn’t recruit me.”

  “Of course she did. From Crescent Coast.”

  I shake my head. “No, I was setting up tents for them, Mrs. Caletti. Jordan needed someone new—someone who you might listen to, to pitch the ideas she’s been trying to sell you on for years. I’m nothing more than a puppet.”

  “Enzo, I don’t understand.” The color drains from her face and her smile falls. “I’ve watched you work the grounds. I’ve watched you with this soil in your hands.” She motions to the ground and I ache a little knowing I won’t be testing that soil in the morning. I don’t mind getting my hands dirty, and working here has been an experience I’ll never forget. And Jordan…

  “I have. But the ideas, the things that have really turned Golden Leaf around, those all came from your daughter, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Caletti shrugs, “Okay, fine. So she put a bug in your ear, so what? You implemented change—change that has worked. Don’t discount yourself, Enzo, you’re clearly very talented, that’s why this firm from Southern California is after you—and that’s why I need to make sure you stay put. So, what’s the number?”

  “You’re not hearing me.” I work hard to keep my voice strong and steady. “Jordan has been doing more than putting a bug in my ear. She’s shaped the entire Golden Leaf transformation. It’s all been an act—I’m a tent guy—and to be honest, I got fired doing that. Jordan gave me a shot because she felt guilty, but I haven’t earned my title, and I sure as hell haven’t earned her.”

  Mrs. Caletti blinks three times. Hard.

  There is absolutely no turning back now. I’ve just thrown it all away.

  “This was all a lie? You didn’t work for Crescent?”

  “No ma’am. At least not in any meaningful capacity.”

  I’ve never felt lower than I do at this moment, but I predict my night is only going to get worse. Because eventually, I’m going to have to look Jordan in the eye and tell her it’s over.

  All of it.

  I finally find Enzo talking to one of the catering guys on the North end of the property.

  I wait for him to finish his conversation, then glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching before I sneak up behind and link my arms around his waist.

  “Where have you been?” I hiss in his ear.

  “Jordan, hey.”

  Something’s off. I can feel it immediately.

  Oh Lord, not him too. I was going to wait to tell him about my dad after work tonight. I was hoping to snag a bottle of that Old Vine Zin and take it up to his apartment. Talk about what miserable humans my parents have proven themselves to be today. But now I feel like that might have to wait, because there is definitely something going on with Enzo.

  “Hey yourself. I’ve been looking for you forever,” I say, letting my voice drop. “I waited in the stockroom.”

  “I’m so sorry Jordan, but I’ve been swamped with work and there’s still a ton to do.”

  “Well you look great,” I say. He does. I haven’t seen this version of Enzo before. The dapper version in the suit and tie, the hair smoothed down.

  “You do too, doll
.” he leans and kisses me on the cheek. It’s not enough to still the simmering feeling in my stomach that something is wrong.

  “What’s going on?” I decide to just ask point blank.

  He shifts his eyes from mine, stares at his shiny shoes.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Something is up, Enzo. You’ve been hiding from me all evening,” I accuse.

  “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not hiding from you. If you haven’t noticed we have the biggest event this winery has seen.” He sets his mouth in a line and moves his jaw back and forth, the way he does when he’s seriously annoyed.

  “Right, you don’t have to remind me of that, Enzo,” I snap.

  “Okay then, we’ll talk later.” He tries to walk past me, but I grip onto his forearm. I look at him. Really look at him.

  “Please don’t push me away,” I say quietly, all the anger gone from my voice.

  Enzo takes a deep breath. “It’s really not the right time to talk about this.”

  “You’re leaving.” It isn’t a question.

  “What? No,” he says. He finally looks me in the eye, tilting my chin up so that he can say the words he hopes will convince me, even though I feel it my gut they’re a lie. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “There’s something, though, I can feel it.” I pull away from him and just study his face. And I convince myself without a doubt.

  “Can we please talk about this later?”

  I shake my head.

  He scowls. Paces. Kicks at the gravel. Finally, he throws his hands up and gives me a hollow look.

  “It’s your mother. She knows.”

  “What?” I pull my arms back and hug myself, suddenly feeling weak.

  He nods. “She knows everything.”

  “What? How? You weren’t going to tell me?”

  Enzo pulls me back to him. I want to resist, but I need him to steady me right now.

  “I was going to tell you. I swear, Jordan,” he says against my ear. “I just didn’t want to upset you before the event, love.”

  “Where is she? What did she say? You’re still here.” My mind is running in a dozen different directions.

  “It’s going to be okay, Jordan.” He says the words, but Enzo doesn’t sound like he believes them at all.

  I grimace. “How can you say that?”

 

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