‘They are,’ he said. ‘They’re… it doesn’t matter what they are. But they’re real. I’m not checking up on you.’
I scoffed.
‘Well, not as much as you think, anyway. The Birdie thing… you have to admit you were much too accommodating. You always are when your feelings get involved.’
‘It’s not like I was in love with her,’ I muttered, toying with a loose thread on the bedspread.
‘I know. You’re in love with Fiona.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘Which is why you’re going to hate the next thing I have to say.’ Isamu finished his tea, setting the cup down. ‘I want you to choose. Between her and the MS.’
I opened my mouth automatically, but all the words in every language I knew had deserted me.
‘I know how badly you want to be a Master Sommelier,’ he said. ‘But you don’t need to prove how good you are. Not to anyone, but especially not to me. I know I’ve been… suffocating you a bit, but it’s not because I think you can’t do your job. The opposite, really. You’re too good at it. You got our father’s ambition and his obsession along with his talent, and – I know where that can lead.’
He put his hand over his heart. ‘This, though, is different. The way you love, Sato – Otosan never had that. And that’s what scares me the most, because all he was obsessed with was being the best, and it still killed him. You’re obsessed with being the bestandyou’re obsessed with Fiona. I know you’d do anything for her, that you’d throw yourself headfirst into being a stepfather for her kids if she’d let you, but you can’t do all of it, you physically can’t, andthis cannot happen again.’
He dropped his head almost to his knees. ‘I can’t force you to choose,’ he said, a crack in his voice, ‘but please, Sato. Please don’t make me watch this happen again.’
I wanted to go to him – to hug my brother – but even if my legs would hold me he’d probably tackle me back into bed, so instead, I just drained my teacup. ‘It’s all right, Onisan.’
He looked at me.
I set the cup on my nightstand, my fingers still shaking, my heart aching in my chest. ‘It’s all right,’ I repeated. ‘There’s no choice anyway. Fiona made it for me.’
Chapter Twenty-OneFiona
Tasting today: 2010 Moscato d’Asti, Piedmont, Italy.
Low alcohol, high sugar, gentle acid: the perfect wine for beginners just trying to find their feet.
On Monday, I sat at my desk, staring into space.
I really needed to take advantage of the quiet. Lex was at their first day of high school; my parents had taken the girls, who didn’t go back to school until tomorrow, to MONA (Let’s check out this ridiculous gimmick of a museum your uncle has thrown his career away for, Dad had grumbled); and I had several copywriting jobs I needed to knock over so I could focus on my next wine column.
It was useless, though. The ache of longing and wanting and grief hadn’t abated, no matter how many times I chantedyou did the right thingto myself.
Worse, though, was the guilt.You’ve done enough,I couldn’t stop hearing Isamu snarl.
Because he was right. Ihaddone this to Satoshi. Helped to, anyway. I wasn’t the only factor – there was the bar and Birdie quitting and his studies and all the extra hours he’d been putting in to get ready for the Young Somm competition – but I was a major one. He – like half my family, it turned out, reorganisingtheir entire lives around my needs – had run himself ragged trying to make me happy.
I buried my face in my hands. Ihaddone the right thing – but it had taken me so long to do it, and Satoshi was the one who’d paid the price.
I probably could have sat there for hours – days, even, weeks – torturing myself with all the ways I’d hurt him, all the signs he was struggling I hadn’t seen, but eventually, I had to pull myself together and go and pick up Lex from school. ‘How was your first day, sweetheart?’ I asked, when they emerged from the gates.
They didn’t reply, their flag pins crooked on their collar as they walked straight past me to the car, and something inside me clenched with worry. ‘Lex—’
‘Fiona!’
Fucking hell, not now. ‘Hi, Michelle,’ I said wearily.
‘Long time no see!’ Michelle put her hands on my shoulders and kissed the air six inches away from both my cheeks in quick succession. ‘I’ve been thinking about you all holidays. Howareyou?’
‘I’m a mess. Is that what you want to hear?’
‘Oh, Fiona, hon, I’m so sorry to hear that.’ Her face was a mask of earnestness. ‘Is there anything I can—’
