“What is this?” My hands tightened on the steering wheel, the heartbreaking words consuming me.
“Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars,” he answered.
“It’s so sad,” I murmured. Tristan only nodded in response as the man and woman continued to sing. The pain in their voices was so palpable it tore me to my core, the lyrics shredding my insides. I tried to loosen my hands on the wheel and watch the landscape breeze by.
“You okay with this, Georgia?”
“What?” I looked into Tristan's eyes as we crossed the vineyard parking lot a few minutes later.
“Being here, with me? Just the two of us?” A small frown played across his face.
“Of course. No big deal,” I said then twisted my long hair and pulled it over my shoulder to keep it off my neck. The humidity was killing me. Maybe the Carolina coast wasn't my idea of heaven after all.
“Good.” His mouth lifted in an endearing grin. He grabbed my hand and locked it firmly in his own. I looked down at our entwined fingers and a small frown washed across my face. I tried to banish it before he noticed.
I fell into step beside him and we walked with our hands linked. God, I hoped whatever I was doing I wouldn't end up hurting him. I’d come to the conclusion this was just a summer fling for him, and while I had no idea where I would end up at the end of the summer, namely back in D.C. with Kyle or not, I did know that Tristan would be heading back to Jacksonville.
The drive had been comfortable, if not quiet. I still hadn't spoken to Kyle. He’d tried to text and call a few times since Friday and undoubtedly knew I was upset. His last voicemail actually sounded angry that I hadn’t returned his calls. Maybe I was wrong, but I was so over always being there. He went to school, he worked, he put 110% into his career, and I was left with everything else, which was nothing. I was also fighting the guilt that had grown since Tristan and I had been together. Did I regret it? I didn’t want to. I’d told him I wouldn’t. But I knew it was wrong being with him while I was still with Kyle, wrong to not leave Kyle first if I knew we were having problems. It was wrong not telling Kyle after it happened. It was just wrong. I found myself in a no-win situation and I was the only one to blame. I felt every decision I’d made had been the wrong one. And yet here I was, my hand locked with Tristan’s because I was so inexplicably drawn to him I couldn’t stay away. I was a moth to his flame.
I heaved a sigh as we stepped into the cool warehouse.
Tristan led us to a desk and paid for a tour, grabbing a map that would direct us through the vineyard. We headed out the other end of the building and walked the grass path that led to the rows of vines. At the end of every row there was a small stand set up to provide samples of the wine created with each grape.
We walked and chatted, our hands twisted together, navigating the rows. We read signs that described the types of grapes, the types of wine produced, and the flavor profile of each. We sipped samples provided by the winery and talked about ones we liked and ones we didn’t. I wrote down a few that stood out with the intention of ordering a few bottles to keep at the beach house.
We laughed the more wine we sipped, the heat and humidity making the effects of the wine more potent. Weaving through rows, I laughed as Tristan plucked a purple grape off a vine and popped it in his mouth. His laid-back attitude was refreshing. I smiled more. I laughed more. I felt lighter―like the ache that had permanently settled in my chest eased when we were together. We stopped to read a sign, and Tristan's arms wound around my waist from behind and his lips tickled the skin of my shoulder. I leaned into him and he draped one forearm across my neck, pulling me tight to his lean body and nuzzling the crook of my neck. Our night together hadn’t been a one-night stand, Tristan had made that clear, and now he was acting like we were more. Showing me he wanted more, but what did I want?
“I think the wine is going to my head.” I leaned against a whitewashed wooden fence.
“We can take a break.” He pressed his body flush with mine, wrapping his arms around my waist and locking his hands at my lower back. I laid my head on his chest and breathed deeply, closing my eyes.
“I don't think wine and heat go well together,” I mumbled. A small moan escaped my throat as he rubbed his hands up and down my back. “Feels good.” Tristan rested his chin on my head. We stood like that for a few minutes. The sun was starting to set and a spray of orange and pink streaked the sky. Tristan's hands settled again on my lower back and his fingertips edged under the hem of my shirt and stroked softly against my skin. His touch shot fire through my veins and sent shivers running through my body.
“This is nice.”
“Mmm,” I hummed in agreement.
“I like having you in my arms.”
“I like being there,” I whispered as I nuzzled further into his chest, inhaling his clean scent. Tristan's fingers continued to drift just under the hem of my shirt, rocking us back and forth slowly. I yawned happily and tightened my arms around his waist.
“Are you okay to walk back to the car or am I going to have to carry your drunk ass?” Tristan crooked a grin and I looked up into his eyes with a lazy smile.
“I’m good.” My eyes focused on his full lips. I licked mine as my eyes flicked back to his, tentatively pressing my lips to his. He kissed me back lightly, his hands moving up to hold my face, his thumbs caressing my cheekbones as he kissed me decadently. Finally we pulled apart and I grinned at him. He shook his head before the corners of his mouth lifted in a heart-stopping smile.
“Come on, wino.” He caught my hand in his own and dragged me behind him, making our way back to the parking lot. My eyes trained on his cargo-clad bottom and I heaved a happy sigh. The guy was hot, but more than that he was sweet and funny and easy to be with. He had the ability to make me feel beautiful, wanted, and special. He held me like I’d never been held, like he was holding me tightly for his own sake as for mine. I felt a connection to him that I’d never felt with anyone else, not even in the early days with Kyle.
I frowned for an instant at the realization. This day at the vineyard hadn’t just been a fun day sampling wine and holding hands; we had crossed a line and there was no going back. Even if I never saw Tristan after this summer, I knew I would never be the same girl that stepped into that beach house just a few weeks ago. From this day forward I would think of my life as pre-Tristan and post-Tristan. It only remained to be seen whether post-Tristan would be happy or heartbreaking.
Seventeen
Georgia
“UP FOR SOME reading?” Tristan sidled up next to me as I was doing dishes the next day.
I arched an eyebrow at him. “You want to continue ‘Tristan and Isolde’?”
“Sure, unless you went on without me.” He bumped shoulders with me playfully.
“I haven’t.”
“Go grab the book.” He swatted me lightly on the bottom as I hustled out of the kitchen. I swiped the book off my nightstand as I heard a text message come through my phone. Another from Kyle. He’d called and texted all day yesterday before I’d finally silenced my phone. I needed time to process my feelings, and Kyle pleading for me not to be upset with him wasn’t going to get me closer to figuring things out.
I returned to the kitchen with the book in my arms, Tristan watching me with his arms crossed and a sexy smirk on his face. I rolled my eyes. How could one person exude so much sex in a single glance? He shook his head with a laugh before we stepped onto the porch. I looked up to the bright sun as the sweet ocean breeze washed over my face, inhaled deeply, and closed my eyes, soaking up the warm rays.
“You’re at home here.”
I turned and looked at Tristan gazing back at me with a fond smile.
“I think I am.” Realization washed over me. It felt good to feel at home somewhere. Kyle had always been my home, wherever he was I felt at home, but at some point over the last few months that had shifted. Maybe even over the last few years. It had been so subtle it’d taken me a while to realize it.
We settled a few yards from the shore, perched on a small dune, the tall grass swaying in the breeze around us. I opened the book to the last page we’d read.
“My turn.” Tristan took the paperback from my hands. My eyes widened before I grinned at him indulgently.
“What? Don't think I can read?” He flashed me a panty-melting grin.
“Read on, Hemingway.”
He rolled his eyes in response before he began to read.
He read about Tristan and Isolde being together for the first time after she married King Mark. He read about Tristan's guilt over betraying the king, but how their love was so strong it refused to be denied.
I watched Tristan's sensual lips mouth the lines. The melodic timbre of his voice whispering the cadence of the words lulled me into relaxation and I closed my eyes, losing myself in the story.
“Do you think Tristan did the right thing?” I murmured some time later
“Leaving her? I don't know. He sacrificed himself, his love.”
“Duty and honor are important,” I said. “If you sacrifice those, don't you tarnish love?”
“It destroys them to be apart―‘life and death together,’” he quoted.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” I said forlornly.
“Their inseparable love?” Tristan watched me.
“The idea they can neither live nor die without each other. Their hearts are melded as one. It hurts so much to love each other and not be together she wishes she would have let him die in that ditch, and yet, she wouldn't have then known what all consuming love felt like if she had.”
“Between a rock and a hard place.”
“It's tragic and beautiful at the same time―‘I’d never know what now I know… the love of you’… It breaks my heart.” I looked at the rolling waves. “Do you think love like that exists? A love so strong that you’d rather die than be apart?”
“I don’t know. It ruined my dad after my mom left…” he trailed off. “What about you?”
I sat and watched the waves lap the shore and the grass whisper around my legs. I knew what I was supposed to say. I was supposed to feel that way for Kyle. I thought I’d felt that for him at one time, but I think he had been my lifeline. His support had saved me, but had his love? Could I live without Kyle? I’d slowly become aware that maybe I wasn't as wrapped in him as I’d thought. Our lives had been intertwined for years, but maybe they weren't intertwined with love so much as a shared history.
“I don't know,” I said cautiously. “Tristan left Isolde for years though, so how inseparable could they have been?” I shrugged.
“Just because they’re apart doesn't mean they don't love each other. It broke them to be apart.” Tristan murmured. “Do you think he was with anyone else?” Tristan's fingertip traced circles in the sand between us.
“Why?”
“‘He fled his sorrow through many shores and many lands.’ Sounds like a metaphor for many women.” He flashed a lopsided grin.
“Is that what you do?” I held his gaze. The grin slowly fell from his mouth as we watched each other. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip.
“Maybe,” he answered, never breaking eye contact with me. I inhaled a quick breath. That one word held so much more meaning than even I knew.
* * *
“GEORGIA!” DREW'S CHIRPY voice called out Monday afternoon. I was crouched down painting the porch a creamy white. The guys had sanded the railings the past week and I had finally been able to convince Silas and Drew to help me. Drew had just ducked into the house for a few minutes.
“What?” I called back as I swiped a damp tendril off my forehead.
“Delivery.”
“’Kay.” I set my brush down and headed up the stairs and into the house. Silas was hot on my heels as I stepped through the French doors and found a large yellow rose bouquet sitting on the dining table.
“For you.” Drew nodded to the flowers with an interested look on her face.
“Did you already read the card?” I cast her a stern glance. She only shrugged in response, an affirmative in Drew's book.
I touched my nose to one of the petals and inhaled. I was sure there was a law somewhere that said you had to sniff any flower, whether they had a scent or not. I plucked the card nestled amongst the petals.
I love you. Forgive me? - Kyle
I frowned for a moment before putting the card on the table next to the crystal vase. Guilt burned a hole in my stomach like acid. If Kyle only knew I’d betrayed him after everything we’d been through, he wouldn’t be begging me for forgiveness. I was instantly ashamed for ignoring his calls the last few days. And I was even more ashamed that it hadn’t been difficult for me. Besides, he’d been so busy so far this summer we’d only exchanged a few quick texts and phone calls a few times a week. There was little difference between then and now.
Plus there had been Tristan.
“You going to forgive him?” Drew wrapped an arm around my waist and laid her head on my shoulder.
“I don't know,” I frowned.
“Do you want to?” she asked.
“I don't know that either,” I said quietly.
“I think the fact that you don't know is telling, love.” Silas fingered a petal absently.
“Who are they from?” Tristan stepped into the room wearing a threadbare T-shirt and paint-splattered sweats, cut off at the knee and hanging deliciously low on his hips. He and Gavin were finishing the interrupted paint job on my bedroom. Silas had been gone all weekend―he refused to tell me who with―so I’d slept in his room the last two nights until mine was finished.
My eyes found Tristan's and held his gaze. Tristan's eyes flashed to Drew's and then back to mine.
“They from Kyle?” he asked.
I nodded in response.
“They’re nice,” he murmured, his gazed focused intently on me.
“Georgia hates roses,” Silas grumbled from beside me.
“I don’t.” I jabbed him with my elbow.
“You do, and if he wasn't so wrapped up in himself he would know that.” Silas glared back at me.
“I don't hate roses.” My eyes found Tristan's again. His swirled with emotion before they broke our gaze and he continued to the sink, washing out a paint-covered brush. He left the kitchen a few moments later without another word.
“That’s it, I’m calling it. Girls’ night tonight.” Drew rubbed my back with an open palm.
“Agreed,” Silas chimed in and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You are far from fine, but if being stuck between two ridiculously hot men means fine, then I so wish I had your problem,” Silas grinned.
“I’m not stuck between two men.” I rolled my eyes.
“So you’ve chosen one then?” Silas turned a stern gaze on me.
“No, I mean―”
“That's what I thought. Girls’ night!” Silas skipped off to the kitchen and pulled the tumbler and a bottle of Kahlua out of the cupboard.
“Silas, it's not even five,” I moaned.
“Rule numero uno this summer: it’s five o’clock somewhere.”
“You two are alcoholics.” I pointed at both of them with a grin. “And I don't think White Russians are a good idea,” I finished, remembering that the last time we’d drunk them Tristan and I had slept together.
“I told you, girls’ night. No boys allowed, so if the drinks get you all horned up, it's just me and Drew,” Silas tossed over his shoulder.
“Silas.” I threw a nearby pen at him.
“I know how you get with a little alcohol, love.” He shrugged before he and Drew burst into laughter.
“What's so funny?” Gavin rambled in with a grin. “White Russians? Count me in.” He wrapped his arms around Drew's middle.
“No can do, big boy. Girls only,” Silas said.
“But what about―”
“Silas is more girl than Georgia and I put together.
He's in,” Drew laughed.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Silas poured the first drink into a glass. “For the guest of honor,” handing it to me.
“Why is Georgia the guest of honor?” Gavin frowned. Drew shot him a glance and shook her head. “So what are Tristan and I supposed to do tonight?”
“You'll manage,” Drew said and smacked him on the ass.
“We’re being kicked out,” Gavin glanced at Tristan as he walked into the kitchen. Tristan's eyebrows rose in surprise then his eyes caught mine.
“Everything okay?” He directed the question to me.
“Everything's perfect. Get out,” Drew said sweetly as Silas handed her a glass.
A frown settled on Tristan's face. “Georgia, can I talk to you for a minute?” He made his way toward me.
“Nope, Georgia's off limits tonight,” Drew intercepted and turned him toward the hallway. “You'll survive, lover boy.” She patted Tristan’s bottom for good measure. He looked over his shoulder at me with wide eyes and a sweet, boyish smile.
“You need to fill us in,” Drew said. The three of us sat on the porch an hour and another round later.
“I don't want to.” I scrunched my nose up at the concerned faces of my two best friends.
“Well, don't bother telling us there isn't anything going on between you and Tristan. That ship has so sailed, literally and metaphorically speaking.” Silas winked at me.
“You are so corny.” Drew rolled her eyes.
“But I make a helluva White Russian.” Silas took another drink.
“I’ll drink to that.” We all lifted our glasses and clinked them together.
“Now as you were.” Silas nodded to me.
“I still don't want to.”
“Blah blah blah, get past the part where you play coy and onto the good stuff,” Silas chastised.
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