Brennen:Emma?
Brennen:EMMA???
I shove the phone back in my purse and find myself reaching for the pickle jar instead. Don't judge me. Desperate times.
I'm standing in the vineyard eating pickles straight from the jar when Miles finds me.
"There you are." He hands me water. Again. "You disappeared."
"The corporate buyer cornered me."
"Ah. Hence the terroir excuse?"
"You heard that?"
"Everyone heard that. You said it pretty loud."
I take a pickle bite with more aggression than necessary. "I panicked."
"I noticed." He leans against the fence beside me, looking out at the vineyard rows. "You want to talk about it?"
"About the corporate buyer?"
"About any of it."
I want to tell him. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue.I'm pregnant. Two little words. But they won't come out. Instead, what comes out is: "I need to go back inside."
"Emma—"
"I'm fine. I just needed air."
I'm not fine. I'm eating pickles at a wine exhibition while lying to my husband and hiding from my family and making up fake wine words. But I'm vertical and dressed, so that counts for something. Right?
Back inside, I successfully avoid wine tasting by claiming my palate is "compromised" from the lunch I ate (a lie—I ate pickles in the vineyard). I hide behind a decorative ficus while Miles networks, and I'm congratulating myself on successful wine avoidance when Sophie appears beside me.
"Emma."
I startle so hard I nearly drop my water. "Sophie. Hi."
"Why are you hiding behind my ficus?"
"I'm not hiding. I'm... observing. The plant health. It's very healthy."
"Uh-huh." She crosses her arms, studying me. "You didn't drink Brennen's wine, did you?"
"Of course I did."
"Emma. I've been running this winery for a few years now. I know what wine tasting looks like. You fake-sipped and then spilled it."
"It was an accident?—"
"And now you're hiding behind a plant eating pickles." She points at my purse where a pickle jar is clearly visible, lid off, and most of the pickles missing. "At a wine event."
I close my purse quickly. "I like pickles."
"You hate pickles. Last month you gave me yours from your salad."
Did I? I don't remember. Apparently pregnant Emma likes pickles and regular Emma didn't. Good to know.
