Wren didn’t doubt her sister was sincere…just like she was pretty damn sure there was a good chance something like this could pop up in the future, and they’d be having this conversation again.
“I meant what I said, Lark. I’m not sure I could pull off being you.”
“I’ll coach you. Teach you everything you need to know about the wines you’ll be serving. And as for the rest,” Lark waved her hands around wildly. “You know me better than anyone. Of course, you can be me.”
Wren probably could act the part for a short period of time, but it would rub against the grain. She loved her sister, loved her energy, her humor, her enthusiastic view of life…in small doses. Trying to imitate that for two full days would be fucking exhausting and pretty much impossible.
Silence stretched between them as Wren tried to find a solution to Lark’s problem. One that didn’t involve her.
“You really don’t think Nora would find someone else if you explained the situation?” she asked.
Lark shook her head. “I’m too afraid to ask. She’s been really patient with me, more than any other boss I’ve had in the past.”
Sadly, that number wasn’t as small as it should be, considering they were only twenty-three. Lark had gone through countless jobs, always losing them somewhere between the three-to-six-month mark, thanks to tardiness and missed days.
Wren didn’t know Nora as well as her sister, so she couldn’t speak to whether she’d be understanding of Lark’s situation or not. Nora had been a couple years ahead of Wren in school, and their paths hadn’t crossed much. Wren had always been rather reserved and quiet, preferring hiding out in the library and reading, over hanging out with all the other kids in her class.
She knew Nora’s younger sister, Remi, a little bit better, but that was only because they were closer in age and had a couple classes together in high school. Other than that, Wren was younger than most of the Storms. She’d never even gone to the winery or brewery where Lark worked.
Not that Lark cared. Her twin had given up on inviting her places a long, long time ago. Wren suspected Lark preferred that she not join her for happy hours and ladies’ nights at Whiskey Abbey, simply because Wren would want to leave early, and Lark was usually the last one to go home at the end of the night.
“Maybe if you explained,” Wren started, but Lark was already shaking her head.
“She was really mad at me yesterday. I like Nora. A lot. I hate that I keep disappointing her.”
Wren looked at her sister—really looked.
Lark felt everything deeply, gave everything she had to the people she loved, and she had genuinely been trying—failing, but trying—to succeed in this job so that she could save enough money to move out on her own.
Lark wanted independence, but she was struggling to get there.
Wren sighed, aware she was going to do what she always did. Bail out her sister.
Because she loved her more than anything, and if the situation was reversed, there was no question Lark would do anything to help Wren.
“Pretending isn’t exactly in my skill set,” Wren said, in a tone that told Lark she was going to do it.
Lark’s smile brightened and she burst out of her chair, practically tackle-hugging Wren to the floor. “We’ll practice! I’ve got a bottle of each wine they’re featuring at the festival and two of my Lightning in a Bottle shirts that you can wear this weekend. We can go back to your place, order pizza for dinner—my treat—and I swear I’ll go over everything.”
Wren sighed, aware she should say no. But equally aware she wasn’t going to.
“I shouldn’t have to say too much, right? Just pour? I mean, isn’t Maverick the fun brother who’s always entertaining everyone? The one who makes the wine?” While Wren didn’t know many of the Storm brothers personally, she felt like she “knew” them in the sense that Lark talked about them all the time. Her sister was the Storm family’s number one fan.
“Oh, well, that’s the other thing,” Lark said, chewing on her lower lip.
Wren tilted her head, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Maverick can’t go this year, so Grayson is.”
Wren frowned, trying to place which brother Grayson might be. She knew through Lark that Maverick and Grayson made the wine together, but she’d never heard much more about him. Except…
“Wait,” Wren said, the light going on. “Isn’t he the one you call ‘Grumpy Asshole’?”
Lark’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Yeah. But he’s not a grumpy asshole to everyone. He’s actually a nice guy. He just seems to get super-annoyed with—” Lark stopped talking when she realized what she was saying.
“You?”
Lark nodded. “Our personalities tend to clash.”
