I never realized how lonely I was until I became a part of the Grasso family.There was always someone to talk to, someone to help move furniture, to hand over a glass of wine after a rough day, or to roast the shit out of you if you deserved it.I deserved it plenty of times.
I loved it all.The chaos, the noise, the drama…
But most of all, I loved Rose.
She squeezed my hand as we stepped into the tasting room, centering and anchoring me to my person.Laughter greeted us, Rhone and his best friend Sutton, pointing at each other, their heads tilted in pure joy.God only knew what they were laughing about.
Franc was arguing with Chardonnay and Laurent over what wine should be featured in next month's club shipment.When they really should have been discussing that with me to make sure the bottles were in stock and ready to be shipped.I’d let them duke it out and catch them up later with the actual logistics.Nero smiled down at his girlfriend, Lainey, and her cheeks were shining bright red, so I could imagine what was coming out of his mouth.
Franc’s girl, Quinn, Laurent’s wife, Phoebe, and Chardonnay’s boyfriend and honorary Grasso, Brady, were watching Franc’s son, Gio, see how high he could jump.Brady—a solid, brick wall of a specimen, standing at 6’4 and two hundred and forty pounds of muscle—held his hand straight out in front of him.Gio took a running leap but just missed by a fingertip.
“Almost there, buddy,” I said to Gio as we passed, ruffling his hair because I knew how much the now seven-year-old hated that.
He swatted my hand away, then got right back into a running position.Sherry and Ben hurried in behind us, Sherry’s shirt askew, and I debated whether I should tell her that her buttons were completely out of alignment.
The matriarch and patriarch of the family stood at the tasting bar, sipping wine, eyes wandering the crowd of people that existed solely because of them.
Rose turned to me, her lips that had roamed my body not even an hour earlier curving up.“If you’re lucky, I’ll let you pick the dessert wine we bring home.”
“Babe, I think I deserve two bottles.”
“A bottle per minute.”She winked a sultry eye at me, and before I could form a rebuttal, Mr.Grasso stepped away from the tasting bar and cupped my shoulder.
“The party has shown up!”
The tasting room smelled like oak barrels, Cabernet, and like every childhood memory I had.Wyatt got pulled into a conversation with Dad, and I poured myself a glass of rosé.It wasn’t lost on me that my go-to wine was my namesake.Luckily, no one actually called me rosé.Rose was much more fitting.
I stopped next to Shery and bumped her shoulder.She brushed a strand of light brown hair from her face, and her chestnut eyes narrowed at me.She and Char were my best friends, even if I wanted to strangle them occasionally.Though, more times than not, I loved being around them, and I knew how lucky I was for that.
“What’s going on?”Sherry asked, a new soft glow brightening her face and highlighting the natural pink tone of her cheeks.The kind of glow that came from finally finding her person.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Huh?”Sherry’s eyebrows furrowed.
I nodded to her shirt, which was all sorts of wrong.
“Jesus!”she exclaimed as she quickly got to work fixing the buttons.“Ben and I might have pulled over on the side of the road on the way here.”
Shock sent my eyes wide, and I bit back a smile.“Wyatt and I managed a quickie too, but in our house, in our bedroom.”
“Boring,” Sherry said with a smirk.“But you two are practically an old married couple.It’s nice to know you’re still getting it on.”
I rolled my eyes.“Gee.Thanks.We’re younger than you by four years, old lady.”
“Right now, I feel like a teenager.”She glanced over at Ben and winked.A smile curved his lips, dark blond stubble shadowing his jaw as his green eyes warmed.“But I’m happy to know that at your ripe old age of thirty-two, you’re not dried out and Wy still does it for you.”
“I’ll let Wyatt know you approve of our sex life.”
“He would probably high-five me.”
“Yeah,” I relented, suppressing my amusement at the mental image.“He would.”
Eventually, we all made our way to the table and took our seats.I was surprised Mom didn’t want to cook, but sometimes, with a family our size and adding in all the significant others, it was just easier to have a meal in the tasting room with a professional chef.
“I’m starving,” I said to Wyatt as I took another sip of wine.
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, then lingering near my ear.“All that cardio.”
