Page 76 of The Sweetness of Life

She giggles back, and I feel infinitely better.

“Go get your man and give me a call tomorrow once you get on the road.”

“I will, and thanks, Meg. This was just what I needed.”

“I know, because I know you. See you tomorrow!” She hangs up, leaving me smiling and heading to the bedroom to get ready.

I think a lot about who I am and how far I’ve come. I think I’m kind, giving, and loyal. I love my home and making a home for my friends. I hate it when my friends hurt, and I would do anything for any of them, but that’s where it stops. I only allow this for my friends; I don’t allow it for myself. Even though it was over ten years ago, I’ve let one person have an intensely profound effect on my life, and I’ve spent every possible second focused on trying to be successful and proving I don’t need anyone or anything to get me where I want to be in life. I’ve realized after coming here that I’m missing some of the best parts of life, the parts that let me connect with another person, a person who just might be meant for me.

Is it possible Zach is that person? Maybe, and I’ll never know if I don’t put myself out there.

Running back into the kitchen, I grab my phone and shove it into my back pocket. Before I can turn, though, there’s a fluttering to my left. The crow is back. I’m met again with the black-as-night eyes and my stomach plummets. I know Meg has a point—I haven’t been looking for bad signs—but not once over the last two weeks have I had a bird land on the darn table. That I would have remembered. Yes, the timing is odd, and no, it isn’t as if I’ve been sitting around doing nothing but looking out the door waiting for a bird. Still, I have to push past the dark thoughts and swallow a huge dose of optimism. Turning away from the bird, which is still staring at me, I head for the door and smile. In a few minutes, I’ll get to press my lips to his.

Smoked Sausage and Black-Eyed Pea Soup

KYLE AND MICHELLE are waiting for me in my office when I walk in. They’re both glued to an iPad, and I know they’re looking at Shelby’s blog. Both of them look up and watch in silence as I move around my desk and drop down in my chair. It creaks as I lean back and run my hand over my face and through my hair, which is still wet from my recent shower.

“Did you see the post?” Kyle asks, excitement radiating off him. If only I shared that same excitement, but I don’t.

“I did, and I take it both of you saw it as well.”

Smiles split across their faces. They’re so happy they’re damn near bursting, and more than anything, I wish they would grab their stuff, take their giddiness with them, and leave me alone.

I woke up this morning to my phone constantly buzzing on the nightstand. Shelby, who was wrapped in my arms and snuggled against me, at some point mumbled for me to make it stop, but I just glared at the small black device. I didn’t have to look at the texts; I knew, and the knowledge was a boulder that rolled onto my chest and settled in the pit of my stomach.

Eventually, I cracked and grabbed it just intending to silence it, but I ended up scrolling through the activity. Her post had gone viral and had been shared on dozens of industry sites, from top ten places to visit in Georgia to wedding destinations. I had hundreds of notifications waiting for me, and it was only nine in the morning. Feeling guilty and trapped inside myself, I kissed her goodbye and let her know I would see her later.

“I was walking the property this morning when Dan radioed over that the phone was ringing nonstop in the barn with people wanting to know our hours. So, on a hunch, I checked, and sure enough, there it was. I’ve already shared it across all our social media platforms,” Kyle says, flipping between several tabs on the iPad to show me the activity and shares we’ve had on each one. Looking at these numbers after only a few hours, I understand his enthusiasm. I mean, this is outstanding for the winery, but I can’t embrace the excitement like they are.

I feel uneasy, and my conscience is loud, lecturing me that this wasn’t a clean win.

I nod my head at him and thank him for being proactive. It was the right thing to do business-wise.

“Online orders have picked up over the last couple of hours, too,” Michelle says quietly. Her eyes have softened as she studies me, and her infectious spirit starts to wane as she reads my mood.

“Why aren’t you happier about this?” Kyle leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees and scrutinizing my lack of enthusiasm.

I shrug and turn away from the pair of them. From here, I can see the hill off in the distance with the underground cellar. My mind wanders to the overhang and the night Shelby and I watched the sunset. She asked me, “Are you playing me, Zach? Is this a game to you? Am I a game?” I told her I wasn’t, that it wasn’t, but I also told her not to trust me.

Kyle lets out a sigh before pushing to his feet and pacing the room. Every minute or so, he looks over at me in frustration, and I can’t say I blame him.

“This is crazy. You do realize this, right? So crazy that one person can cause such a ripple.” He glances over to Michelle, obviously wanting her to back him up. She doesn’t.

“It is crazy. It’ll be interesting to see if this is a one-day blast or if there will be a trickledown effect over the summer,” I tell them.

“My money’s on the trickledown, which will lead into our best sales numbers yet.” He stops in front of the white board, reads over the data we’ve collected so far, and then moves back to his seat.

Trickledown through the summer would be amazing.

Shelby’s following is much larger than I anticipated. It’s easy to see now why the magazine hired her two years in a row. Also, based on some of the remarks I saw on shared posts, her opinion is highly respected in the Southern foodie industry. Shelby is not just a chef from Charleston; she’s big time, and I’m so proud of her. She’s built this Starving for Southern image for herself, and she’s right—it’s time for her to make herself known.

“Did you know she had written it?” Michelle asks.

“Yes. She told me yesterday, but she didn’t say when she was planning to post it. Honestly, I thought it would be closer to or after the release of the regional issue, thought maybe it would coincide and she’d link it to the online interviews and posts following her stay here. I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m glad she posted it sooner rather than later. Quarter two numbers are going to go up, and so will quarter three with summer travelers to the area.”

“Yeah. Dad already sent me a text, too.” I glance at my cell phone. I turned it off before my shower and haven’t turned it back on.