“Obviously.”
She’d grinned then. Soft and smug and happy in a way that made my chest ache. Like she hadn’t realized we were already building a life together, one sun-soaked day at a time. Then she elbowed me and said, “Don’t lie. The country house is already our home.”
I hummed. “No lies detected, Dubois.” I placed a hand on her thigh. “But truthfully? I’m not giving up my Monaco tax status, baby. I love you, but I also love not paying income tax.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you accepted my proposal.”
The truth was, she didn’t want to give up her French residency either. She was still legally tied to her family’s vineyard, and emotionally tethered to those lavender fields she pretended she didn’t miss as much as she did.
She’d admitted it quietly during a night swim, how being back in the south of France felt complicated now. How she was more than a little homesick and ached to visit. Especially since she’d started carefully reconciling things with her brother, Étienne, and trying to turn a new leaf with her sister.
She missed her parents too. Even with the history. Even with the way she’d finally stood up to them after her first victory in F1, drawing a line they hadn’t known how to handle. They’d exchanged a handful of texts over the last month. It was still a fragile truce, and it would be a bumpy road, considering she’d stepped into Étienne’s seat at Luminis.
They still carried expectations she’d long outgrown. But that didn’t mean she’d stopped caring. The guilt, the pride, the unspoken tension… it all lived right under her skin.
To keep her citizenship, she’d need to reside in France for at least six consecutive months every few years. It wasn’t strict, but it mattered. Just like Monaco mattered to me.
So yeah. We’d figure it out and split our time. Keep both addresses and share a life between two countries and two pasts. It didn’t feel complicated. It just made sense.
Aurélie rose from the edge of the bed and stretched, letting out a big yawn. “Papa texted me last night,” she said casually.
“Yeah?” I walked over to the closet and yanked an athletic shirt off a hanger, tugging it over my head.
“He said the vines are going wild this year.” She bent to dig through her purse, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and tucking them onto the front of her shirt. “Étienne mentioned that to me when I moved into the house. Guess Papa also wanted to tell me. He even sent photos. They’re climbing the eastern slope, past the terrace wall.”
I buckled up my backpack. “Is that good or bad?”
She shrugged, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Both. Depends who you ask. Wild vines twist away from their stakes. They grow wherever the hell they want. They love to steal sunlight and take up space. Harder to harvest and even harder to predict. But they’re usually the strongest.”
“Sounds like someone I know.” I winked at her.
She straightened and met my gaze with an amused look. “Papa pretends to hate them, but he loves the surprise. I think they remind him of me.”
I stepped toward her, brushing a kiss over her temple. “I think they remindeveryoneof you.”
She nudged me away, but her smile softened. “You’d like them.”
I raised a brow. “Because they’re stubborn and need constant supervision?”
She giggled and swept her hair up into a ponytail. “Because they thrive where they’re not supposed to.” She grabbed her own pack, slinging it over her shoulder. “My father always talks morewhen the vines surprise him. My siblings never cared much for them, but to me they were a challenge I wanted to conquer.”
Of course it was. Aurélie was nothing if not a competitor at heart.
We left the bedroom and paused in the kitchen to fill up our water bottles. “Did you respond to him?”
“Ouais. I texted him back and said it was the first time I’ve been gone this long and didn’t know what the soil smelled like.”
I stilled, a warm ache blooming in my chest as I tightened the lid of my water bottle. The weight in her voice caught me off guard. “The soil?”
“You can smell it all, you know?” she said, more to herself now. “The rain, the minerals, the way the earth holds heat. It tells you everything. I used to know it instinctively. But now…” She exhaled and grabbed her water bottle. “Now I don’t. And I hate not knowing.”
“You miss it.” It was a statement, not a question.
Yearning glittered in her eyes before she clipped her water bottle to her bag and grabbed her sunglasses, slipping them on like armor. “I do.”
Aurélie didn’t sayit makes me feel unsettled. She didn’t have to. Her connection to that land was deep, complicated, and spiritual. She was emotionally anchored to it in ways she couldn’t explain to anyone who hadn’t been raised by grapes and ghosts.
