"Thank you," I say, leaning back to meet his gaze. "For all of it."
"You did this, Sunny. The wine, the lineup, the pitch were all you. I just opened a few doors."
"You opened a lot of doors. And then you stood behind me when I needed you."
His thumb traces along my jaw. "I’ll always show up, Sunshine."
Tabitha and Diego begin breaking down the stations. Isabelle disappears into her office to make calls. Charlie helps, carrying tables and stacking chairs alongside Diego without a word of complaint, and by early evening the space looks like it did this morning, minus the candles and the linen.
Twenty minutes later, we've locked up and I'm standing in the parking lot with my keys in one hand, and Derek’s envelope in the other. The adrenaline that carried me through the day drains out of me so fast that my knees go soft. Charlie appears at my elbow and catches my arm before I register that I've swayed.
"Hey." His hand tightens on my arm. "When's the last time you ate?"
"That granola bar you gave me."
"Shit. That was four hours ago, Sunny."
"I was a little busy," I tease.
He walks me to my truck and opens the door, and I sit sideways on the seat with my feet hanging out, too tired to climb all the way in. He leans against the frame, watching me with the quiet patience he always has when he knows I need time to sort through my own head.
The honesty in his hazel eyes makes my throat ache. "I'm not going to take it, Charlie."
"I didn't ask."
"I know you didn't." I reach for his hand and hold it against my knee. "But I need you to hear me say it. Willow Sage is my home. These vines, these barrels, this land, all of it. I didn't fight to save this winery just to walk away."
He squeezes my hand, and the relief that crosses his face is brief but unmistakable. "Then come eat dinner with me, and we'll figure out the rest tomorrow."
I nod and swing my legs into the cab, and he closes the door behind me.
The event was a triumph and the winery is safe. Evan's words about my work are still ringing in my ears, warming places I didn't know needed warming.
But Derek's face at the door lingers too, that final look over his shoulder, the way his gaze dropped to Charlie's hand on my back before he turned away. He said he'd be in touch. And Derek always means what he says.
Charlie pulls out of the lot first, and I follow his taillights toward town. The evening should feel victorious. It should feel like a celebration.
Instead, the knots in my stomach tighten, and despite my words, I know I'm not done wrestling with this.
Chapter 14
Sunny
The chicken sizzles when I lay it in the skillet, and the pop of oil against my wrist jolts me back. I adjust the heat and reach for the lemon I halved earlier, squeezing it over the meat in a practiced motion that requires no thought, which is the problem. When my hands are busy and my brain is free, it goes straight to Evan.
His face at the tasting keeps replaying on a loop. The pride in his eyes when he looked around the room, the roughness in his voice when he called my work outstanding. The text he sent Monday morning sits open on my phone.
Sunny, I owe you a proper apology. I had no idea Derek was walking me into a winery event. I'd love for you to come out and visit. No pressure, no ambush. Just two old friends and a conversation that deserves to be had face to face.
I've lost count of how many times I've reread his message. The guilt gnaws at me because part of me wants to go. A significant part. Not for Derek, not for the offer, but for Evan.
I owe him everything for my career and my place at Willow Sage. I don’t regret standing my ground when Derek interrupted the tasting, but Evan didn’t deserve a refusal delivered in front of forty-two strangers while Derek preened in his tailored suit.
The envelope sits on my kitchen counter, propped against the fruit bowl where I tossed it after Tabitha handed it back to me. I told myself I wouldn't open it. I lasted until Sunday night, when the silence in my cottage grew too loud and my willpower crumbled like old cork.
The numbers inside made me sit down. The salary is considerably more than what I earn at Willow Sage. The equity stake gives me actual ownership in one of Sonoma County's most respected wineries. And the line about full creative control over the winemaking program has Evan's fingerprints all over it, because Derek Parker wouldn't know creative control from a hole in the ground.
I closed the envelope and put it back against the fruit bowl, and it has been staring at me from across the counter ever since, daring me to look at it again.
