Tabitha hardly had the energy to be charming anymore. “I don’t know. It’s just how I think. It doesn’t go over all that well with the wine judges. As you might guess.”
“But you’re killing it with regular people who just want to enjoy a glass of wine.”
He stood, exhaling a beleaguered sigh as he did so. “Come on, Rock and Roll Somm. Have dinner with Liz and me. I promise I will not discuss your husband or your winery or anything or any winemaker or any wine or grapes.”
“Ex-husband.” She didn’t move from her seat, where she’d slouched back against the wall. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I can’t face another farm-to-table Napa meal. Squid ink baby greens bullshit, name the farmer, introduce you to the live lobster before you eat it.”
He laughed and held out his hand. “Well, you are in luck, because we are sick of that too. We’re leaving town and going to a taco truck in Healdsburg.”
“Can I bring a date?”
“Not if it’s your ex-husband.”
“Nope. I think we’ll let Sir Saggy Balls fend for himself tonight.”
17
“Did you still love her, even after you knew she was having an affair?”
Their room was dark, but the window was open to let in the moonlight. His skin glowed blue in the velvety darkness. She lay naked on the bed, covers kicked off, feeling the cool night air and his delicate fingers dance up and down her back. Her eyes opened and closed heavily; she spoke quietly, her words slow. He paused at her question, looking up from the small of her back to meet her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She left. Not me.”
Tabitha’s eyes opened wide, the sleepiness vanished. The warmth of the velvet night now changed, the light seemed to become electric, and his body looked edged in sharp relief against the blackness. Her skin goosefleshed where his fingers rested on the rise of her ass. She turned on her side to press her body against his, nestling her face into his neck and kissing the divot beneath his Adam’s apple.
“Why would anyone leave you? She must be insane. I can’t think of any other reason.”
He did not answer for a moment, just held her and stared out the window into the night sky. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and throaty. “I was not enough for her. My life, my winery. She did not enjoy it.”
Tabitha’s lips continued to move over his neck for a moment after he spoke.
“What’s it like to have daughters?”
“It’s…” He paused and stared up at the ceiling. “My twins are my life.”
“I’m a twin.”
“What is it like to have a twin?”
“She’s been with me longer than anyone else.”
She pulled her head back to look him in the eye, but his hand remained on the small of her back.
“It’s so strange that you have kids. I guess I should have asked? I don’t know, like, is that standard to ask people if they have kids before you sleep with them? It didn’t occur to me that I’m having sex with someone’s father. That’s kind of crazy.”
He silenced her with a kiss, long and deep, and she let her eyes close again as she sank back into the familiarity of his touch. He lifted his hand to her hair, dragged his fingers along her scalp, grasped chunks of her hot-pink strands to push her lips harder into his. She tightened her arm around his waist, slid her other underneath his neck to mimic his movement and grasp his thick brown hair in her palm, feeling the softness of it, feeling the thickness, letting her thoughts drift and abandoning herself to the contradictory sensations of his body. Hard and soft, velvet and knife-edged, gentle and strong. Giovanni pulled her over him, and she sat astride his narrow hips and let her head drift back and her eyes close. She put her hands over his as he ran his palms up her body, covered her breasts, and then moved down to her waist, pulling their bodies closer together. She opened her eyes to gaze down at him. He watched her in the moonlight, his eyes clear and direct, full of fire. They moved together with their eyes locked until Tabitha’s body convulsed and she tipped her head back again in climax. Giovanni sat up, pulled her to him, and clenched her mouth into a kiss as her body pulsed.
He kicked the remaining sheets to the floor and flipped her on to her back. Her body weak and shaking, Tabitha let her hands drift above her head and float in space over the foot of the bed. Giovanni moved above her, his eyes still on hers, his hands wrapped around her waist and shoulders, his hips pushing into hers.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his body closer, opening her mouth to meet his, absorbing him from their intertwined legs to their grinding hips to her soft breasts pressed against his hard chest to his soft, full lips smashed against hers. Their bodies as one, they came together, pulsing in a matching rhythm, holding each other tightly through the crest of ecstasy.
Tabitha felt strangely shy as they dressed together the next morning. As she put on her makeup, she watched him towel off his body and rummage through the drawer to pull out clothes. They smiled at each other each time their eyes met.
“Would you like to ask me something?” he finally said.
“Yes.”
He spread his arms out in an expansive gesture as if inviting her somewhere.
“How old are they? Are they nice? Do they have hair like yours? Do they get along with each other? Do you miss your wife?”
He put up a hand, his mouth breaking into a tentative smile, his teeth bright white against his tanned skin. His eyes looked soft, and a wave of protectiveness toward him washed over her.
“I will tell you everything you wish to know. But you have a lot of questions so early in the morning. What is your most important question?”
“How could anyone leave you? Is she on drugs or something?”
The smile left his face, and he sat on the edge of the bed. Tabitha resisted the urge to sit next to him, to run her hands over his body and soothe away whatever he was going to say. She stayed at the vanity mirror, watched him in reflection. Waited.
“Aurelia, my former wife, wanted children, but after we had them, she did not. They are a lot of work, and the winery is a lot of work. She is a businesswoman. A good one. She travels and works all the time. She likes people and wants to move around and know other men. She does not want this, what we had, this life at home with the girls. She knows the country is a good place for the children, but Aurelia is glamorous. The girls are a beautiful accessory for her, nothing more.”
“The girls must miss her.”
He shrugged, a small smile on his face and a soft look in his eyes. “They get what they can from her. She brings expensive gifts and takes them to nice hotels. This is how she loves them. They have fun with her and come home to me to have a family. They are young but so smart. They understand what they will never get from her.”
Tabitha’s breath hitched in her throat when she asked him the next question. “How old are they?”
“Twelve. Aurelia left when they were two.”
“What are their names?”
He looked far away. “Alessia and Nicoletta. They are my life. I never understood how Aurelia could— Well.”
“My twin sister is Gabrielle. Did I tell you that already?”
He smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. “You did not tell me about her, but I guessed that you were a twin the night we met.”
Tabitha stopped and considered his comment. “What do you mean you guessed? You can tell?”
He stood to finish dressing. “You have a way about you; I can tell you are connected to something. When we met, you had lost your husband, but I could tell you were—what is the word? Sewn together? Your hands are always clasped to your twin. My girls are that way. I am very happy that they are twins. Without one another, I do not believe they would be so satisfied, so contenta, even though they do not have a mother who cares for them.”
Tabitha turned back to look in the mirror as if to continue putting on makeup. But she was grateful Giovanni was occupied getting dressed, as she could
not move to finish. Her eyes had unexpectedly filled with tears, and her hand trembled so hard that she thought she might stab herself in the eyeball with her mascara wand. She glanced down at her phone but resisted picking it up to call her sister. She knew already how the call would proceed—he said we were sewn together and even when I was lost he could tell that I had my hands clasped to you. And she knew, without a doubt, what Gabrielle’s response would be. That is kind of weird and creepy and serial killer to say we are sewn together, but also cute and totally true and also how is the sex?
Tabitha dabbed off the mascara that had smeared beneath her eye. Someday soon she would tell Gabrielle about this conversation. Tabitha suspected that the way she would describe the moment would be that it had never occurred to her that the most intimate moment with Giovanni would be when they were both fully dressed. And she also suspected that her sister would understand that.
18
Tabitha stood in the darkness in the back of the ballroom, shifting from foot to foot in her high heels, trying to take deep, calming breaths. Her body trembled and the air came into her lungs in jagged gasps. She applauded as Giovanni went onstage to accept his medal for Best Overall Winery. His chest was covered with medals from every category he had entered, but he didn’t swagger or strut. He wore a bashful smile and embraced other competitors as he passed them. He hadn’t been nervous at all this morning, calmly sipping his coffee and chuckling while reading a newspaper. Tabitha, in contrast, paced his hotel room in manic spurts of nervous energy, struggling to walk in the floor-length gown she’d purchased for today’s ceremony. She wondered what he was thinking about now, but suspected she knew. His daughters, she thought, who would be so proud. His uncle and father, who wanted this much more than he did. He was happy to make them happy but did not care all that much about it for himself. Something about his disconnection from the prizes made it so much sweeter to watch him win.
“Well, this will change a lot of things for that scrappy little Italian winery.” She turned to see Mark, his eyes facing front but speaking low so only she could hear. “You know he doesn’t have plans to expand? When I asked him what he would do if he wins, and he said not a whole lot will change.”
Tabitha smiled. “He’s not a man who needs a constant upgrade.”
“Nice change for you, I would think,” he remarked.
“Yes. I don’t know what to do with a man who is already content. Maybe this time I will die from lack of anxiety.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think you can die from that.” They watched Giovanni move backstage with the other winery winners. He stepped back as he walked, put his hand on the back of another competitor, made sure everyone got through the door to the back room before he walked through. Tabitha’s heart swelled against her ribs. “He’s a good person,” Mark continued. “We had a lot of fun with you two. I’m glad you joined us the other night.”
“Thanks for having us. It was nice to get out of here. My sides still ache from laughing so hard.”
“Do you think you’ll marry him?”
She nudged him with her shoulder, grateful for the darkness so he couldn’t see the blush warming her face. “Come on. You are getting way ahead of yourself, pal.”
“Do you think you’ll help me with the article?”
The air left her lungs in a sudden, icy gust, and she turned to face him.
“You are relentless. No means no. Didn’t they teach you that in school?”
He put up a hand in defense, kept his voice calm even though she had already attracted some attention.
“Don’t get mad at me for what Royal Hamilton did. That’s called misplaced anger, and we both know it.”
“Why exactly do you have to bring it up now? You don’t think I’m nervous enough as it is?”
“You have nothing to be nervous about.”
A shush pierced the air. Tabitha glanced toward the stage, where a new round of awards was going on.
“Nothing to be nervous about? Are you insane? What kind of psychopath wouldn’t be nervous at a competition like this?” Her voice had risen again, and people stared.
Mark grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway.
“Why do you have to bring this up now?” she yelled as soon as the door shut behind them. “What kind of person are you? I would think you are the one person who gets that the results of this competition will make or break my career.”
“I do get that, Tabitha. You’re so lost in your mania about this competition that you don’t even see what’s right in front of your face. You have nothing to be worried about because you’re not going to win.”
Tabitha stood with her mouth open, struck dumb by his statement.
“Why do you refuse to see this? In a few minutes, he will walk away with the big prize. The judges might throw you a bone, maybe an honorable mention of some sort, but I doubt it. He will have arranged that, too. I am telling you that you have no chance.”
“Fuck you!”
A wounded expression crossed his face, but Mark continued. “Not because you’re not good enough. You’re the best somm here. Everyone knows it, including Royal. But the SommFest has been rigged since before you walked in the door.”
“If he’s so determined to beat me, how do you explain Giovanni? Why would he let Giovanni win all those medals?”
Mark shook his head. “He doesn’t know Giovanni exists, Tabitha. I don’t understand how you could have been married to this guy for so long and have no clue what he is about. Giovanni is nothing to him. You think he cares about Giovanni’s ten-thousand-cases-a-year winery? Royal Hamilton wants his wines served in Buckingham Palace. That a little Italian winery has never even crossed his mind. I guarantee you that he hasn’t even noticed.”
“Tabitha.”
She turned to see Giovanni standing next to her, his face still flushed from the win, but his expression concerned. She pulled him into a hug. “I’m so proud of you! Look at this!” She put her hand over the gold medals hanging on wide blue silk ribbons around his neck. “This is awesome! So amazing!” Tabitha realized her compliment was too loud, like a crazy, overeager parent, screeching at a child who just won a spelling bee. But she could not control herself, or the manic smile on her face. Giovanni’s eyes darted between her and Mark, who reached out a hand to congratulate him. She tried to control her breathing.
“I believe you are next?” Giovanni asked quietly.
She nodded and followed his outstretched hand into the ballroom, stalking past Mark without looking at him. He took a place along the back wall, far away from where she and Giovanni stood. She stood in front of Giovanni, leaning back against his chest, and tried to calm herself. Mark watched the announcer with an inscrutable expression on his face, and Tabitha nearly vibrated out of her skin with anger. Giovanni’s hand squeezed her shoulder.
The announcer called out the final category, International Sommelier of the Year, with a brief history of the prestigious award. Tabitha wanted to scan the room for Royal but didn’t let her eyes drift from the emcee, with his pinched face and impeccable tuxedo, looking every bit the snootiest wine snob in the world. Royal was somewhere in this room, most likely with an arm thrown around the chair next to him and an ankle resting on his knee. Smiling an icy smile. He would not be wearing a tie, although protocol said black tie for this event. He’d put one on as he walked to the stage, a move she used to find unbearably sexy. I’ll follow your silly rules, he always seemed to be saying, but I will do it on my time, and we both know that I look better than you anyway.
She kept her eyes forward, not wanting to catch his eye accidentally. Though there was no chance in hell he was looking for her. Royal was such an enormous class of arrogant that he didn’t bother scanning the room looking for better company. Everyone looked at Royal, and he chose the gaze he wanted to return.
Her vision tunneled on the stage, the bright lights circling on the emcee and the rest of the room spinning in the darkness around him. Her pulse pound
ed behind her eyes. One of two things was about to happen. She might win the contest she had dreamed of winning for her entire adult life. Her life was possibly about to change in every conceivable way. She held a lottery ticket in her hand, four of the five numbers had been called, and she was waiting for that last number to match, to see if she was about to become a new person.
Or. The other thing might happen. Royal might win. Her stomach hollowed out at the thought, and she clenched her fingers into fists at her side. It was a possibility. She couldn’t sort through the ocean of emotions she had for that outcome.
There were other people here. Tabitha had barely thought about them all week. Some of them were friends, former colleagues, people who had worked just as hard as she had for this honor. They must be having the same emotions she was having.
But somehow, she couldn’t imagine it. The world had become too intensely focused. It came down to her and Royal. It seemed everyone in the world must know that fact right now, everyone wondering who would win: the cheater or the wronged wife, the arrogant Brit or the awkward American, the one who looked good or the one who worked hard. The bad guy or the good guy. Surely everyone in the room saw this battle in the same black-and-white terms as she did.
“I’m pleased to announce the winner of this year’s International Sommelier of the Year…”
A thought hit her like a thunderbolt, clear as a polished crystal wine glass, and she was suddenly surer of this knowledge than anything else in the world: she deserved to win. She was a better sommelier.
“Royal Hamilton!”
Her vision went black; her ears went deaf to the applause of the audience. She could not see anything else except Royal, sauntering up the stairs to the stage. As she had predicted, he clasped a bowtie around his neck as he walked, taking the stairs at a leisurely pace, wearing a lazy grin. Royal had all the time in the world.
She still could not hear anything, but she saw Royal reach out toward the audience as he spoke, gesturing toward someone with his open hand and a wide smile on his face. Tabitha didn’t know who he indicated, but she could guess. Sure enough, heads turned, and all focus turned toward a long-legged blonde woman who managed to acknowledge the adoration without taking her eyes off Royal. Several eyes in the room darted over to her, some in embarrassment, some in righteous anger, some in pity. Tabitha hoped they were horrified that he’d left her for the blonde, but she suspected most people thought Royal Hamilton had scored an upgrade. What could she do now? She’d give anything to walk out of here, anything not to have to watch him gaze lovingly at someone else’s face and feel the pity of the room. But there was no way to walk out without looking like a spoiled, sore loser. She had to stay, had to endure the looks alone, had to act polite and cheerful for his win.
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