Brea set down her wine glass and turned to face him fully. "That woman loves you. Anyone with eyes can see it. She looks at you like you hung the moon and stars specifically for her enjoyment. Whatever she decides about David's money or his legacy—it won't change how she feels about you."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've watched the two of you together. I've seen how she fights for you, how she trusts you, how she's built a life here that has nothing to do with money or inheritance or family names." His mom smiled that sweet, soft grin that always seemed to make things better. "She's not going anywhere. She's already chosen you. Now, you need to allow yourself to trust that choice."
Devon wanted to believe it. Wanted to trust that Emery's feelings were solid enough to withstand the weight of an unexpected inheritance and all the complications that came with it.
"Just love her," his mother said simply. "That's all you can do. Love her, and be patient while she figures out what this means for her future."
His mother kissed his cheek then headed down the deck steps to join the celebration.
Devon stayed on the deck, content to watch from a distance.
Until Emery detached herself from the group and headed toward him.
She climbed the steps with careful grace, mindful of her wet nails, her smile soft and knowing. “Why are you up here alone? You’re going to give Bryson a complex.”
“Maybe that’s the point.”
“Doubtful.” She moved to stand beside him, her shoulder brushing his. "You're deep in thought. I can tell because you get this little crease right here—" She touched the space between his eyebrows. "—when you're thinking too hard about something that worries you. Want to talk about what's actually on your mind?"
“I’m not sure now is the time.”
She tilted her head. “Because you said that, I’m going to hound you until you talk.”
“I don’t want to ruin the party, and I certainly don’t want to pressure you about something you haven’t had the chance to process.”
“Now I get it. The DNA results,” she said it lightly, but Devon heard the tension underneath.
He rested his hands on her hips. “I understand it’s confusing. But we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it, and I don’t know how you feel about having that fact put in black and white, making it real.”
Emery was quiet for a long moment, looking out at the vineyard where the vines stood in perfect rows, with gold at the edges. The place where Bryson had just proposed. The place where Devon's family had built everything that mattered.
“The only word I can come up with to describe how I feel is strange,” she said finally. "It's strange knowing for certain that David Callaway was my father. That I'm related to people who tried to kill me. That I have a legal claim to money and property and a legacy I never wanted." She turned to look at him. “For the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been consumed by what to do about the inheritance. Harlan believes there’s a possibility for an option to be bought out of everything. Right now, that feels like blood money. I’d be taking money from the very people who wanted me dead. And that, I need to think about. Get alittle distance from what happened and some perspective.” She leaned closer, placing her palm against his cheek. “However, I don't belong at Callaway Wines. It’s not the place I want to build something.”
“And where is it you see yourself?” Devon circled his arms around her body. His heart beat wildly. He considered himself a fairly confident man. He loved her, and he felt her love right through to his soul. But standing there, staring into her green eyes, holding his breath, he worried about what her answer might be.
“Stone Ridge Winery. And with you,” she said it simply, firmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "My career, my life, my future—it's all here."
Devon's chest loosened, and the tension he'd been carrying finally released. "You're sure? Because that inheritance is substantial. Millions of dollars. Property. History. You could?—"
"I could what? Abandon the job I love? Walk away from the people who've become my family? Leave the man I'm in love with because suddenly I have access to money and a winery that I would have some control over?” Emery's voice was fierce now, passionate. "Money doesn't change who I am or what I want. And what I want is this. Us. Building something together."
"The family's going to love hearing that. They've already adopted you as one of their own."
"I noticed. Your mother cried three separate times yesterday when we were discussing wedding color schemes for Riley."
"Wait, what?"
"Riley asked for help planning. I got pulled into a three-hour conversation about whether burgundy or navy blue was more appropriate for a December wedding." Emery laughed. "Your mother kept saying how wonderful it was going to be to have two more daughters joining the family so close together."
"Two?"
Emery's smile turned shy. "She might have hinted—very subtly, of course—that she was hoping for another wedding announcement in the near future."
Devon laughed. He should’ve been mortified. It should’ve scared the hell out of him. But all it did was remind him that he was in love with the sweetest, kindest woman in the world, and he wanted everything with her. "And what did you say?"
"I said I thought burgundy was the better choice." Emery's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Why? Did you have something you wanted to ask me?"
