by Maisey Yates
“Yes,” he said. “It’s me.”
“I haven’t heard from you in a while.” She sounded a bit petulant, childlike and accusing. Which, frankly, was the closest to her old self he’d heard her sound in quite some time.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy. But I have something to tell you. And I hope this won’t upset you. I think it might make you happy.”
“What is happy?” She said it a bit sharply, and he wondered if she was being funny. It was almost impossible to tell with her anymore.
He ignored that question, and the way it landed inside of him. The way that it hollowed him out.
“I got married,” he said.
“Holden,” she said, sounding genuinely pleased. “I’m so glad. Did you fall in love? Love is wonderful. When it isn’t terrible.”
He swallowed hard. “No. I’ve married James Maxfield’s daughter.”
She gasped, the sound sharp in his ear, stabbing him with regret. “Why?”
“Well, that’s the interesting part,” he said. “I now own some of Maxfield Vineyards. And, Soraya, I’m going to make a wine and name it after you. Because he shouldn’t be able to forget you, or what he did to you.”
There was silence. For a long moment. “And I’m the one that’s locked up because I’m crazy.”
“What?”
“Did you hear yourself? You sound... You married somebody you don’t love.”
“It’s not about love. It’s about justice. He didn’t deserve to get away with what he did to you.”
“But he has,” she said. “He has because he doesn’t care.”
“And I’ve made him care. His daughter knows what kind of man he is now. He’s lost a controlling share in his own winery. He’s also lost an alliance that he was hoping to build by marrying Emerson off to someone else.”
“And the cost of those victories is your happiness. Because you aren’t with a woman you love.”
“I was never going to fall in love,” he said. “It’s not in me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said too. Money was the only thing I loved. Until it wasn’t.” There was another long stretch of silence.
“I thought you would be happy. I’m getting a piece of this for you.”
“I don’t... I don’t want it.”
“You don’t...”
“You have to do what you have to do,” she said.
“I guess so.” He didn’t know what to say to that, and for the first time since he’d set out on this course, he questioned himself.
“Holden, where is my baby? They won’t answer me.”
Rage and grief seized up in his chest. She had sounded better, but she wasn’t. “Sweetheart,” he said. “You lost the baby. Remember?”
The silence was shattering. “I guess I did. I’m sorry. That’s silly. It doesn’t seem real. I don’t seem real sometimes.”
And he knew then, that no matter what she said, whether or not she accepted this gift he’d won for her, he didn’t regret it. Didn’t regret doing this for his sister, who slid in and out of terrible grief so often, and then had to relive her loss over and over again. At least this time she had accepted his response without having a breakdown. But talking about Maxfield cut her every time, he knew.
“Take care of yourself,” he said.
“I will,” she said.
And he was just thankful that there was someone there to take care of her, because whatever she said, he worried she wouldn’t do it for herself.
And he was resolved then that what he’d done was right.
It had nothing to do with Emerson, or his feelings for her.
James deserved everything that he got and more.
Holden refused to feel guilt about any of it.
* * *
Very little had been said between herself and Wren about her elopement. And Emerson knew she needed to talk to her sister. Both of her sisters. But it was difficult to work up the courage to do it.
Because explaining it to them required sharing secrets about their father, secrets she knew would devastate them. She also knew devastating them would further her husband’s goals.
Because she and Holden currently had the majority ownership in the vineyard. And with her sisters, they could take absolute control, which she knew was what Holden wanted ultimately.
Frankly, it all made her very anxious.
But anxious or not, talking with her sisters was why she had invited them to have lunch with her down in Gold Valley.
She walked into Bellissima, and the hostess greeted her, recognizing her instantly, and offering her the usual table.
There wasn’t much in the way of incredibly fancy dining in Gold Valley, but her family had a good relationship with the restaurants, since they often supplied wine to them, and while they weren’t places that required reservations or anything like that, a Maxfield could always count on having the best table in the house.
She sat at her table with a view, morosely perusing the menu while her mouth felt like it was full of sawdust. That was when Cricket and Wren arrived.
“You’re actually taking a lunch break,” Wren said. “Something must be wrong.”
“We need to talk,” Emerson said. “I thought it might be best to do it over a basket of bread.”
She pushed the basket to the center of the table, like a very tasty peace offering.
Wren eyeballed it. “Things must be terrible if you’re suggesting we eat carbs in the middle of the day.”
“I eat carbs whenever I want,” Cricket said, sitting down first, Wren following her younger sister’s lead.
“I haven’t really talked to you guys since—”
“Since you defied father and eloped with some guy that none of us even know?” Wren asked.
“Yeah, since that.”
“Is he the guy?” Wren asked.
“What guy?” Cricket asked.
“She cheated on Donovan, had a one-night stand with some guy that I now assume is the guy she married. And the reason she disappeared from my party the other night.”
“You did what?” Cricket asked.
“I’m sorry, now you’re going to be more shocked about my one-night stand and about my random marriage?”
Cricket blinked. “Well. Yes.”
“Yes. It is the same guy.”
“Wow,” Wren said. “I didn’t take you for a romantic, Emerson. But I guess I was wrong.”
“No,” Emerson said. “I’m not a romantic.”
But somehow, the words seemed wrong. Especially with the way her feelings were jumbled up inside of her.
“Then what happened?”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about,” she said. “It is not a good story. And I didn’t want to talk to either of you about it at the winery. But I’m not sure bringing you into a public space to discuss it was the best choice either.”
“You do have your own house now,” Cricket pointed out.
“Yes. And Holden is there. And... Anyway. It’ll all become clear in a second.”
Before the waitress could even bring menus to her sisters, Emerson spilled out everything. About their father. About Holden’s sister. And about the ultimatum that had led to her marriage.
“You just went along with it?” Wren asked.
“There was no just about it,” Emerson responded. “I didn’t know what he would do to the winery if I didn’t comply. And I wasn’t sure about Dad’s piece in it until...until I talked to him. Holden and I. Dad didn’t deny any of it. He says that him and Mom have an understanding, and of course it’s something he wouldn’t talk about with any of us. But I don’t even know if that’s true. And my only option is going to Mom and potentially hurting her if I want to find out that truth. So here’s what I know so far. That Dad hurt someone. Someone younger than me, s
omeone my new husband loves very much.”
“But he’s only your husband because he wants to get revenge,” Cricket pointed out.
“I... I think that’s complicated too. I hope it is.”
“You’re not in love with him, are you?” Wren asked.
She decided to dodge that question and continue on with the discussion. “I love Dad. And I don’t want to believe any of this, but I have to because...it’s true.”
Cricket looked down. “I wish that I could say I’m surprised. But it’s different, being me. I mean, I feel like I see the outside of things. You’re both so deep on the inside. Dad loves you, and he pays all kinds of attention to you. I’m kind of forgotten. Along with Mom. And when you’re looking at him from a greater distance, I think the cracks show a lot more clearly.”
“I’m shocked,” Wren said sadly. “I’ve thrown my whole life into this vineyard. Into supporting him. And I... I can’t believe that the man who encouraged me, treated me the way he did, could do that to someone else. To many women, it sounds like.”
“People and feelings are very complicated,” Emerson said slowly. “Nothing has shown me that more than my relationship with Holden.”
“You do love him,” Wren said.
Did she? Did she love a man who wanted to ruin her family?
“I don’t know,” Emerson said. “I feel something for him. Because you know what, you’re right. I would never have just let him blackmail me into marriage if on some level I didn’t... I... It’s a real marriage.” She felt her face getting hot, which was silly, because she didn’t have any hang-ups about that sort of thing normally. “But I’m a little afraid that I’m confusing...well, that part of our relationship being good with actual love.”
“I am not the person to consult about that kind of thing,” Cricket said, taking a piece of bread out of the basket at the center of the table and biting into it fiercely.
“Don’t look at me,” Wren said. “We’ve already had the discussion about my own shameful issues.”
Cricket looked at Wren questioningly, but didn’t say anything.
“Well, the entire point of this lunch wasn’t just to talk about me. Or my feelings. Or Dad. It’s to discuss what we are going to do. Because the three of us can band together, and we can make all the controlling decisions for the winery. We supersede my husband even. We can protect the label, keep his actions in check and make our own mark. You’re right, Cricket,” Emerson said. “You have been on the outside looking in for too long. And you deserve better.”
“I don’t actually want to do anything at the winery,” Cricket said. “I got a job.”
“You did?”
“Yes. At Sugar Cup.”
“Making coffee?”
“Yes,” Cricket said proudly. “I want to do something different. Different from the whole Maxfield thing. But I’m with you, in terms of banding together for decision-making. I’ll be a silent partner, and I’ll support you.”
“I’m in,” Wren said. “Although, you realize that your husband has the ace up his sleeve. He could just decide to ruin us anyway.”
“Yes, he could,” Emerson said. “But now he owns a piece of the winery, and I think ownership means more to him than that.”
“And he has you,” Wren pointed out.
“I know,” Emerson said. “But what can I do about it?”
“You do love him,” Cricket said, her eyes getting wide. “I never thought you were sentimental enough.”
“To fall in love? I have a heart, Cricket.”
“Yes, but you were going to marry when you didn’t love your fiancé. It’s so patently obvious that you don’t have any feelings for Donovan at all, and you were just going to marry him anyway. So, I assumed it didn’t matter to you. Not really, and now you’ve gone and fallen in love with this guy... Someone who puts in danger the very thing you care about most. The thing you were willing to marry that bowl of oatmeal for.”
“He wasn’t a bowl of oatmeal,” Emerson said.
“You’re right,” Wren said. “He wasn’t. Because at least a person might want to eat a bowl of oatmeal, even if it’s plain. You’d never want to eat him.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“Well,” Wren said. “It’s true.”
“What matters is that the three of us are on the same page. No matter what happens. We are stronger together.”
“Right,” Wren and Cricket agreed.
“I felt like the rug was pulled out from under me when I found out about Dad. The winery didn’t feel like it would ever seem like home again. I felt rootless, drifting. But we are a team. We are the Maxfield label. We are the Maxfield name. Just as much as he is.”
“Agreed,” Wren said.
“Agreed,” said Cricket.
And their agreement made Emerson feel some sense of affirmation. Some sense of who she was.
She didn’t have the relationship with her father she’d thought she had. She didn’t have the father she’d thought she had.
Her relationship with Holden was...
Well, she was still trying to figure it out. But her relationship with Wren and Cricket was real. And it was strong. Strong enough to weather this, any of it.
And eventually she would have to talk to her mother. And maybe she would find something there that surprised her too. Because if there was one thing she was learning, it was that it didn’t matter how things appeared. What mattered was the truth.
Really, as the person who controlled the brand of an entire label using pictures on the internet, she should have known better from the start. But somehow, she had thought that because she was so good at manipulating those images, that she might be immune to falling for them.
Right at this moment she believed in two things: her sisters, and the sexual heat between herself and Holden. Those seemed to be the only things that made any sense. The only things that had any kind of authenticity to them.
And maybe how you feel about him.
Well. Maybe.
But the problem was she couldn’t be sure if he felt the same. And just at the moment she was too afraid to take a chance at being hurt. Because she was already raw and wounded, and she didn’t know if she could stand anything more.
But she had her sisters. And she would rest in that for now.
Fourteen
The weeks that followed were strange. They were serene in some ways, which Emerson really hadn’t expected. Her life had changed, and she was surprised how positive she found the change.
Oh, losing her respect for her father wasn’t overly positive. But working more closely with her sisters was. She and Wren had always been close, but both of them had always found it a bit of a challenge to connect with Cricket, but it seemed easier now.
The three of them were a team. It wasn’t Wren and Emerson on Team Maxfield, with Cricket hanging out on the sidelines.
It was a feat to launch a new sort of wine on the heels of the select label, which they had only just released. But the only demand Holden had made of the company so far was that they release a line of wines under his sister’s name.
Actually, Emerson thought it was brilliant. Soraya had such a presence online—even if she wasn’t in the public at the moment—and her image was synonymous with youth. Soraya’s reputation gave Emerson several ideas for how to market wines geared toward the youthful jet-set crowd who loved to post photographs of their every move.
One of the first things Emerson had done was consult a graphic designer about making labels that were eminently postable, along with coming up with a few snappy names for the unique blends they would use. And of course, they would need for the price point to be right. They would start with three—Tempranillo Tantrum, Chardonyay and No Way Rosé.
Cricket rolled her eyes at the whole thing, feeling out of step with other people her age, as
she had no desire to post on any kind of social media site, and found those puns ridiculous. Wren, while not a big enthusiast herself, at least understood the branding campaign. Emerson was ridiculously pleased. And together the three of them had enjoyed doing the work.
Cricket, true to her word, had not overly involved herself, given that she was in training down at the coffee shop. Emerson couldn’t quite understand why her sister wanted to work there, but she could understand why Cricket felt the need to gain some independence.
Being a Maxfield was difficult.
But it was also interesting, building something that wasn’t for her father’s approval. Sure, Holden’s approval was involved on some level, but...this was different from any other work she’d done.
She was doing this as much for herself as for him, and he trusted that she would do a good job. She knew she would.
It felt...good.
The prototype labels, along with the charms she had chosen to drape elegantly over the narrow neck of each bottle, came back from production relatively quickly, and she was so excited to show Holden she could hardly contain herself.
She wasn’t sure why she was so excited to show him, only that she was.
It wasn’t as if she wanted his approval, the way she had with her father. It was more that she wanted to share what she had created. The way she felt she needed to please him. This was more of an excitement sort of feeling.
She wanted to please Holden in a totally different way. Wanted to make him... Happy.
She wondered what would make a man like him happy. If he could be happy.
And suddenly, she was beset by the burning desire to try.
He was a strange man, her husband, filled with dark intensity, but she knew that part of that intensity was an intense capacity to love.
The things that he had done for his sister...
All of her life, really. And for his mother.
It wasn’t just this, though it was a large gesture, but everything.
He had protected his mother from her endless array of boyfriends. He had made sure Soraya had gotten off to school okay every day. He had bought his mother and sister houses the moment he had begun making money.