“The over what?” I ask.
Which is when my dad starts laughing.
A lot.
“What’s going on? Momma? Babs?” I look to each of them, but Momma is silently laughing and Babs is drinking.
“They know of the shtupping,” Mavis says, waving her hand at my parents. “Bubala is a yenta when she . . .” Mavis pantomimes drinking with one free hand and talking with the other.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Momma says to me once she catches her breath. “She is delightful.”
“That one is a spit-fire, for sure,” my dad says. “I like her.”
“Okay, but what happened?” I turn to Kat. “Where did she go?”
“She got a little chatty. About you, and sex, and sex with you, and winning this award, and, well, she didn’t know it was your parents when she was talking. And she got kind of . . . expressive.”
Oh no.
“Should I go to her? Will she come back?”
“She’ll come back. It’s fine. She just has to come to terms with the verbal vomiting that just occurred and then she’ll be fine.”
“Okay. How long will that take?”
Kat shrugs her shoulders in return. “Not sure on that, cowboy. But she’s a big girl, it’s good for her to go through something like this. Experience the ramifications of her actions. You know what I mean?”
“No. That sounds like it was tortuous for her to discover.”
“Eh. Good for her? Tortuous? It’s kind of a tomato/tomahto thing, right?”
The servers begin placing plates at each seat, so I take my chair and wait for Lexie to return.
“Oh Cole, honey, is it true that you are proposing tonight?” Momma asks me.
“No, Momma, I’m not.”
“Well, now, why not, sweetheart?” Babs asks.
“Is coward, your boy,” Mavis says to Babs, pointing at me.
“Mavis,” Momma says. “Shame on you. He is not a coward. He’s just not ready yet.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” I say, looking around the room for something to distract them with.
“Well then, what is it?” Momma asks.
“She just got out of a relationship—” I start.
“Was no relationship. Was mishegas. Nonsense.” Mavis waves her hand dismissively.
“Mavis has a point,” Kat says. “He was never really around, I mean not in like five years or more.”
“I don’t understand, Cole. Why are we here then?” Momma asks.
“We could be here to see our son,” my dad says.
“Is Mommy’s boy,” Mavis says. “Only days and already here to visit. Feh.”
“You sure are feisty tonight, Mav,” Babs says to Mavis.
“I am not a Momma’s boy, Miss Mavis.”
“He just loves his momma,” my mom says.
“Really, this is just a misunderstanding,” I say. “Tonight is about Lexie winning an award, a career making award. And we should be happy with that.”
“Even if we don’t get a proposal,” Kat says.
“Why is everyone so hung up on me proposin’ tonight?” I ask, frustrated.
“You’re going to propose tonight?” Lexie asks, her face horrified. Because, of course, she picks that moment to come back to the table.
Chapter 43
Lexie
I can see the table from across the room as we return from the restrooms. They all seem to be involved in a lively conversation. Of course, they are. Because they all know who the others are and that they would be here. I can’t decide how furious I am with Cole over this. And Kat and Remi too, since they both knew his parents were coming and didn’t tell me either.
Who does that?
Who introduces someone to their parents as a surprise?
We are barely even involved. One date and dinner at his house. We haven’t even had sex. It’s not like this is super serious or anything.
You did come on his lap.
Okay, except for that.
“Just relax,” Remi murmurs to me.
“I’m relaxed.”
Trevor made you come too. So, it’s truly nothing serious.
Because clearly, you’re a slut.
We get to the table, everyone seems to be talking at once. Then I hear Cole say, “Why is everyone so hung up on me proposin’ tonight?” My stomach sinks.
Propose? Like marriage? Is he crazy?
“You’re going to propose tonight?” I ask. Not believing that question is coming from my mouth.
He turns toward me, eyes wide, face red, mouth agape. “Uh . . . no,” he says at the same time everyone else says, “Yes.”
“Are you all insane?” I ask looking between him and everyone else at the table.
“Why don’t we sit down?” Remi suggests. “Oh look, they’re serving dinner.”
We sit down at the table and everyone begins their salad course. Mavis and Babs make small talk with Cole’s parents, who I still haven’t officially met. Remi and Kat exchange odd glances between bites, Cole shovels food in his mouth as fast as he can, and I sit there moving the lettuce around on the plate.
What’s the big deal if he was proposing? Is that so bad?
You barely know him.
I knew Trevor over seven years and didn’t know a thing.
I take a few bites of my salad and continue to ponder the events of the evening thus far. He cares about me, that I know. I like him, a lot. He says I’m his lightning bolt. I feel safe when I’m with him. And comfortable, like I do know him well. It’s been that way from the start. Dinner at his house. When he holds my hand. When he kisses me. There is no reason why I can’t do this. I can see myself spending time with him in that backyard, watching him barbecue, cooking in the kitchen, arguing over which music to listen to.
Little Coles running around the winery, playing with the huskies, hiding in the trees, riding horses. Training the horses and the huskies to get along.
The servers remove the salad course and bring out the entrees. I eat about half of mine and decide it’s time to get some of the awkwardness over with. I’ve had water, coffee, and food. I’m about as normal as I’m going to get.
I look to Cole parents. “I know we weren’t properly introduced earlier. I’m Lexie Harrison,” I say across the table to them. “I’d get up to shake your hand, but we’re eating. I just didn’t want to continue the evening without at least doing that.”
Cole wipes his mouth with his napkin and turns to face me. “Sweetness, I apologize. This was so rude of me. I should have introduced you. I should have told you they were attending. It was . . . I . . . Well, anyway, these are my parents, William and Savannah Mason.”
“Oh, honey, you can call me Savvy, and him Bill,” Savannah says smiling big and gesturing to the man next to her with her thumb. “We’re not big on formalities, so don’t worry about the hand shakin’. I’ll probably want to give you a big hug later though.”
“It’s a deal.” I smile.
“May I say what a pleasure it is to meet you, Lexie. Thank you for putting up with us all on your big night,” his dad says as he winks at me. I can see where Cole gets his looks from. Bill is crazy good-looking. And his charm. It’s also something in the way that these men look at a woman. Like they are precious cargo, to be treasured and revered. The Mason men would throw their coat over a muddy rain puddle so their woman could walk over it and remain dirt free.
I can imagine Cole caring for me when I’m sick, catering to me when I’m pregnant, gently tending to our babies. It’s that same warm and caring internal makeup that made my dad such a fantastic father and husband. That ability to selflessly love.
Wow. My parents would have loved him.
The palate cleanser comes and goes and dessert is being served, while I am still a swirling vortex of thoughts and emotions. No one really tries to talk to me. As though everyone realizes just how crazy this whole night has been and we are letting things settle for a bit before broaching any serious
subjects again.
Either that, or you ruined the whole evening by asking everyone if they are insane.
I pick at my dessert still trying to make sense of my thoughts. What I should be doing is going over my speech.
Shit! My speech.
I search frantically for my clutch, the sigh with relief when I open it and find my note cards stashed safely inside. I pull them out and review one by one. It’s not a long speech. I changed most of it after my encounter with Sawyer Grant. I still can’t decide if that was a smart decision, but it’s the one I made so I’m going with it.
Chapter 44
Cole
Throughout the entirety of the dining portion of the evening, I’ve continued to shovel food in my mouth to prevent myself from talking. I know by her reaction that we’ve freaked Lexie the fuck out. Worse than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. That is not what I wanted from all of this. I was prouder than punch when she invited me to escort her this evening. Even if I did have to coerce her to do so. I bought the dress and the shoes as a romantic gesture. To show her that I am proud of and support her career accomplishments. I knew the minute I saw the dress that it would look amazing on her, and it does.
Her body showcases clothing beautifully. And I’m gonna have to be happy with that since I’m certain my chances of ever seeing her naked are blowing in the wind. Her hair is different too. A softer color pink. Like cotton candy. You don’t even realize its pink until you look at it closely. She looks like—dare I say it—a grown-up version of herself.
And grown-up Lexie is exquisite.
She hasn’t talked much outside of officially introducing herself to my parents. Which has squandered my dreams of having this be a big happy family dinner. Well, not just that. It’s not fair to put all that on Lexie. It’s my dumb ass who thought this would be a good idea, but it’s Lexie who called us all insane. Which never would have happened if Babs and Mavis hadn’t interfered. I look at them harshly while I chew on my baked peach dessert.
Had the meddlers not done just that, we’d be heading upstairs shortly after her speech tonight. I saw her double check her clutch for her speech notes. I hope she’s not nervous about it.
I lean over to whisper in her ear, “I know your speech is going to go well, you got this.” She looks at me and smiles. It’s not a big smile, but I’ll take it. I’ll take anything I can get from her right now.
The man who has been circling to socialize at the various tables all night walks onto the stage, stopping at the podium.
“Good evening,” he says. The audience claps perfunctorily. “Welcome to the thirty-second annual Winemakers Awards dinner. We gather each year to . . .”
I tune him out, trying to get a feel for where Lexie is at mentally. She looks deep in thought, which is good since she’s about to give a speech. I don’t know what her feelings are on public speaking. For most people it’s terrifying.
How can you even entertain the idea of marriage when you don’t know how she feels about public speaking?
The man at the podium goes on to talk about the number of winemakers included in this selection process. Over 7,700 in the United States, of which 6,212 are members of the organization that sponsors this conference and the award. Lexie beat out over 6,000 other winemakers to get this award.
My God, that is fantastic!
I start clapping, lost in my own thoughts, but quickly stop when I realize that no one else has joined me. I turn to pay closer attention as he starts his introduction of Lexie. Calling out her other accomplishments, making mention of Stone and Mavis, the recent renovations to the winery itself, as well as the number of wines she produces.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Lexie Harrison, Lovestone Winery.”
I stand and applaud, not even caring if I’m the only one standing. That’s my girl up there and I’m with her in this one hundred percent.
She gets up from the table.
“You got this, girl,” Kat says clapping.
“Go get ‘em, badass,” Remi says.
Lexie smiles back at the two of them as she makes her way to the stairs leading up to the stage. Someone is there to assist her with the stairs, but then she is on her own to walk across the stage. I see her take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then clear her throat and smooth her hands down the front of her dress.
She reaches the podium and the man gives her a hug, hands her the award, then gestures to the microphone as though the stage is hers. She adjusts it down to match her mouth, even with the four-inch heels she has to lower it by a few inches.
She looks incredible. The lighting giving her form a halo effect. It’s stunning combined with the sparkles from the dress. You can’t help but be in awe of this woman taking command on the stage. Especially when she starts talking.
“They don’t tell you about it when you are a finalist for this award. You only find out if you win. So, one day you are Lexie Harrison, normal winemaker cruising through life, and the next day you are Lexie Harrison, Winemaker of the Year. The experience is surreal to be sure.” The audience laughs with her and I relax a bit. She’s going to be fine.
I feel a surge of emotion in my chest watching her up there. Even if I’ve ruined the idea of Lexie and I together forever, I will always have this moment where I get to look at her on that stage knowing she’s mine, feeling the pride, and hell the love, that I feel when I look at her.
Chapter 45
Lexie
I get to the part in my speech where I can stay the course and end this speech in a few sentences. Or I can make a point while I have their attention.
“Winemaking is a combination of luck and skill. Skill comes from experience, of course, but it also comes from knowledge. Now, I’ve been growing grapes and making wine since I was nine years old. My parents nurtured this insane interest of mine in every way they could, and it’s just flourished from there. I also have my Bachelor of Science and Master of Science degrees in Viticulture and Enology. And, I was fortunate enough to be mentored by the late, and so very great, Stone Strassburg, three-time winner of this same award, who I think we all can agree was a true master of his craft.”
I begin clapping for Stone, and the audience joins me. Somehow, my speech has not gone down either path I’d originally intended. So, I’m interested to find out where I’m taking this, crazy as it sounds.
“I’m young for this field at twenty-nine years old. No doubt about it. And if you can believe it, there are people in this audience who don’t believe that twenty years of experience, six years of education, and five years of personal training from a master of this craft, is enough to qualify me for this award.”
I pause, and the audience predictably gasps.
“I don’t need to share who this person is, he knows what he did. Oops, well that narrows it by about twelve percent, doesn’t it?” Laughter floats through the room. I look at our table and see faces filled with love and support shining back at me, but it’s Cole’s face that stops me. The pure and unadulterated pride reflected there fills me with such confidence, such badassery, that I almost share Sawyer Grant’s name. Instead, I put out a plea to everyone in the room.
“We are in a unique industry. And it’s small, all things considered. What were the numbers? Seventy-seven hundred winemakers in the US? Not a large community. We should be one of support and cooperation, building one another up, not tearing down.” The audience applauses again. I pull my phone out of my clutch and pull up some numbers.
“I’m going to do some quick math here. According to the US Census Bureau, there are three hundred twenty-five million people in the US. Of that, twenty seven percent are over age twenty-one. And out of that number, fifty six percent drink alcohol on a regular basis. Maybe not all of them are wine drinkers, but I’ll bet most are. That gives us . . .”
“Forty-nine million,” Cole says loudly, clearly seeing where I’m going with this.
“Forty-nine million drinkers in the US. Whi
ch gives each winemaker . . .” I look to Cole this time. He smiles back. Then says, “About sixty-three hundred.”
“Sixty-three hundred drinkers per winemaker. Without going into it too much more, I’m going to say that it’s enough. There are enough wine drinkers out there for all of us. Can’t we embrace that ideology instead of tearing each other down?” Applause rings through the audience again. I can see where public speaking can be kind of addicting. It’s a total rush when people are clapping because of something you’ve done or said.
“I’m not going to lie, I’m proud as hell of myself for winning this award. I work my ass off making the best wine I can and to be recognized for that is life altering. But I guarantee that if another winemaker comes to me for guidance or counsel, I will take them in and teach them everything I know. And if they win this award, I will clap the loudest in that audience. Because that is the kind of environment I want to promote and work in. And with that, thank you to the judges for this incredible honor. Now I need to get back to work, ‘cause I plan to win this two or three more times in my career.” The audience starts to stand.
Holy shit. A standing ovation.
I step back from the podium as more people stand. Until it’s everyone standing and clapping. I begin to walk off the stage but turn back when I remember the other thing I wanted to say. I tap on the microphone once to make sure it’s still on. Then lean in and say, “Sorry, one last thing. Yes, Cole Mason, I will marry you.”
Chapter 46
Cole
My God. Did she just say what I think she said?
She comes down the stairs from the stage and runs into my arms. I embrace her and hold on tight. People are patting me on the back and telling me congratulations. She looks up and catches my eye. “Sweetness, I wasn’t—” I start.
“Kiss me.”
Well, shit. Who am I to deny this woman anything?
Love Unforgettable: Love in San Soloman - Book Three Page 24