My heart lurched and I chuckled, stroking my fingertips under her shirt to caress her side. “Same here, but you were supposed to be my business partner, then my friend, then we found out our mothers were sworn enemies. I guess it just took me some time to figure out that all that was just noise. I had such a thing for you all along, though.”
“I’m not even sure I ever admitted it to myself, but same,” she said quietly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder and exhaling a heavy breath. “So, what do you want to do when we get back to New York?”
My thumb kept drawing lazy circles across her side. Our official move was scheduled for as soon as we got back stateside, but we’d been up and down a couple times the last few weeks, checking out potential apartments to buy and office spaces to lease.
None of the decisions had been made just yet, though. We were still weighing our options, trying to figure out exactly what we needed.
She lifted her head, her hand sliding to my chin to turn my face toward her. Then she pressed up on her toes and kissed me with a deep, deliberate heat that stole my breath. “I don’t want to think about leases or new routines just yet. I just want… us. For a little while.” Her arms tightened around me, pulling me even closer. “But I would like to go down to our room for a while.”
The words made me grin like an idiot and I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her. She didn’t have to ask me twice to take her to our tiny little bedroom. I lifted her clean off her feet, relishing the easy laughter that came out of her as I carried her to the stairs.
Once I got her to the cabin, I kissed the soft curve of her neck and shuddered at the pull of her arms around me. Outside, the glittering expanse of the Mediterranean surrounded us, no one else in sight for miles, but in that moment, the only universe that mattered was the one we were creating together.
CHAPTER 48
STERLING
Spring
The wooden floors of the Napa house gleamed under the early morning sunlight. The wide glass windows looked out at the gold and green of the valley below. I’d always loved this hour, when the world was quiet, predictable, and organized, but these days, I rarely had it to myself.
Claire seemed to like this time of day too, and she was already awake, bright-eyed and determined, kicking her blanket loose the moment I picked her up from her crib. I murmured to her quietly in the hopes that Laney would keep sleeping.
“You’re relentless, little one.” She responded by gnawing on my shoulder, content as could be. I chuckled quietly, cradling her as I carried her out of the room. “Good morning, baby girl. When are you going to start sleeping in, huh?”
She weighed almost nothing, but the way her tiny hand gripped my shirt anchored me better than any boardroom or pitch ever had. When we reached the kitchen, I shifted her to one arm, started the espresso machine, and let the familiar hiss of steam fill the kitchen.
It was efficient, precise. The way I liked things. Only, there was nothing crisp and clean about trying to foam milk one-handed while your infant gnawed through your collar.
“Your mother’s latte is a matter of national importance,” I informed her. She gave a delighted squeal, utterly unimpressed by the gravity of my mission. “Alright, then, butyou’reexplaining if we get in trouble for serving up something subpar.”
We played for a while before we carried the tray upstairs. Laney stirred as we entered, still half asleep, and smiled when she saw us. Sunlight crept across the floorboards, warming the room as she pushed herself up and held out her arms. I simply wasn’t sure if she was reaching for the baby or the latte.
“She’s been up since six,” I said, setting the latte on the nightstand since I figured she probably wanted Claire more.Probably. “She’s already tried to negotiate for solid food. It seems bananas are something squeal-worthy. Who knew?”
Laney laughed softly, reaching for Claire again, and our little girl’s entire face lit up when I passed her over. Watching them together still did something strange to me. Something unmeasured and unquantifiable.
For years, I’d thought love was transactional. That people stayed or left based on terms that could be defined, amended, and enforced, but then Laney had crashed into my life—pretty much literally—and Claire had come five months ago, and the entire framework of my world had rearranged itself around them.
Laney fluffed a couple of pillows behind her, making a little nest for Claire as well. Then she took a sip of her coffee, a contented sigh working its way out of her after she’d swallowed. “Oh, God. That’s perfect.”
“I have my moments,” I replied, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile. “Also, if you keep moaning like that, we might have to start practicing for another one.”
She laughed. “Cool your jets, Westwood. Give a girl a chance to get used to being a mom of one, would you?”
I shrugged. “I’m not the one who moaned like that, am I? It was simply a warning.”
She groaned and rolled her eyes, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The phone buzzed on my desk in the next room, notifications rolling in for emails, deals, and meetings, but for once, I didn’t move. I stayed exactly where I was, watching my wife and daughter framed in morning light, feeling a warmth I still hadn’t quite learned to name.
There had been a time when I’d thought success meant control. Now I knew better. It was this. The laughter. The sunlight. The weight of a small hand gripping my shirt. The quiet certainty that there was nowhere I had to be as much as right where I fucking was.
Ignoring my phone, I pushed off the doorframe to join them in bed, shaking a rattle for Claire. My heart swelled to fifteen times its regular size as I looked into her cool blue eyes. I still couldn’t believe I’d helped to create something so perfect.
Not nearly long enough after, the stillness of the valley outside began to hum with movement. The staff had arrived early, setting up long tables on the terrace and stringing lights through the olive trees for the party tonight. From our bedroom window, I could see the rows of barrels stampedClaireVineyards—our newest venture, named for the little tyrant currently cooing on the mattress between us.
The name had been Laney’s idea, but I’d loved it as soon as she’d first mentioned it to me. In the years I’d owned this vineyard, we’d produced a couple hundred bottles a year and that had been enough for me, but when Laney and I had started coming out here more and more often, she’d learned from the staff that it had much more potential than we were tapping into. One thing had led to another and here we were, building anotherbusiness with the same precision with which I ran Westwood & Sons.
This place just had softer edges since Laney had also taken an active role. Our winemaker oversaw day-to-day operations, a full staff managed the estate, and we came up for a couple days every other week to check in. It was less about expansion and more about legacy.
