“Why?” I asked.
“Because they heard about the Christmas Blessing Wine and the upcoming auction. And because, as he said, ‘Salazar Avila had committed to cover any shortfall.’”
I gripped the edge of my dresser. “He did what?”
“Snapper went to the bank. He made a deal with Isaac. If the wine didn’t work out and for whatever reason there wasn’t enough money to cover the debt—Snapper guaranteed he’d cover the difference.”
Air refused to fill my lungs properly. My thoughts scattered in a dozen directions.
“He was going to pay off our family’s debt?” The question came out as a whisper. “Without telling me?”
“Without telling any of us,” my dad added. “Not unlike you, Saffron.”
His words stung, but I knew he was right. I was angry with Snapper for doing the same thing I had.
“That’s what we were talking about downstairs.” When Felicity patted the bed beside her and held out her hand, I sat down. “I told him about Isaac’s visit and thanked him for offering to help our family. He said he thought he should tell you, and I convinced him there was no reason to. If there’s anyone you should be angry with, it’s me, not him.”
“I was so awful to him…”
“Go to him.” My mother sat on my other side. “Apologize.”
“What if he won’t listen?”
Felicity gripped my hand. “He’ll listen. Believe me.”
But I couldn’t go. Not yet. Not when my mind was still spinning and my heart was still racing and everything I thought I knew had just been turned inside out.
“I need time to think,” I said.
My parents and Felicity exchanged glances, but they didn’t argue. They left one by one until I was alone again in my room with the weight of what I’d learned pressing down on my chest.
I lay down and stared at the ceiling. The house had gone quiet. Everyone else had retreated to their rooms or to bed. Outside my window, the night was dark and still, and my mind wouldn’t stop racing.
Isabel had lied. She’d planted doubt in my head, and I’d let it grow. I’d let it poison my thoughts until I couldn’t see the truth that was right in front of me. Snapper had never been involved with Felicity. The idea was absurd. Felicity would’ve told me. And even if she hadn’t, I would’ve known. I would’ve seen them together.
And God, Snapper had been showing me how he felt for months. Years, maybe.
I should have had the guts to ask them both directly.
While the arrangement he made with the bank was different, he’d still gone behind my back. My first instinct was to be angry about it. To feel like he’d overstepped or tried to control things he had no right to. He’d made a financial commitment without telling me or my family. Both he and the people at the bank were wrong for doing that. On some level, it was probably illegal, not that that kind of thing always mattered in a small, tight-knit town. If it had gotten as far as foreclosure, then my parents would’ve had to be notified, obviously.
But what he’d done had been out of love. Because he couldn’t stand the thought of us losing everything. Because he wanted to give me a safety net even if I never knew it existed.
It was stupid and overprotective and exactly the kind of thing someone did when they loved another person so much they couldn’t help themselves.
I rolled onto my side and got in the fetal position. The memory of Thanksgiving came flooding back. We’d been at Felicity’s house. In the guest room. In bed together after making love.
“Saffron, I love—” he’d started.
And I’d kissed him. Cut him off before he could finish. Because I hadn’t been ready to hear it, say it back, or admit that what we had was real and permanent.
But even then, he’d been showing me in actions since October. Finding the formula with me. Convincing his family to help. Harvesting the grapes side by side. Making the wine. Holding me when fear and doubt crept in. All of it had been out of love.
And what had I done? I’d kicked him out. Told him to leave. Refused to let him tell his side of the story.
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks and soaked into my pillow. I’d been so scared of needing him. So terrified of depending on someone else. So convinced that letting him in would make me weak.
But needing someone didn’t make me weak. It made me human.
