I schooled my mouth into a grin and poured my mother a glass anyway. My mom liked to distance herself from the world I worked in and the friends I kept. A lot of it stemmed from insecurities about our house, our lifestyle, but now that it was part of my world, her separation hurt.
“Speak for yourself, Mom,” Lara said. “I personally enjoy the wine that Fancy Boy here brings.”
From across the table, I caught Isabella’s eye, raising an eyebrow to ask if she was surviving the family onslaught. She nodded once, smiling behind her raised glass. It was odd having her with me in this element. I don’t know why I didn’t think she’d fit in, but it was a pleasant surprise to see her interact with my loud family with such ease.
As the clock chimed, signaling the late hour, I began gathering empty plates, and Isabella, eager to help, joined in. We could still hear my sisters’ laughter from the dining room as we moved into the kitchen.
With plates washed and the counter wiped down, I turned to her, my eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks for coming tonight,” I murmured. “It means a lot.”
She smiled gently, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “Thank you for inviting me. It was . . . enlightening.” With a playful wink, she added, “I’ve got enough stories to tease you for a lifetime now.”
TWENTY-ONE
MAX
The moment my feet crossed the threshold into the Mirage Guild, the familiar weight of anticipation and nerves that had been my constant companions over the past months dissolved, leaving a buoyant sense of accomplishment in its wake. The door, cleverly disguised as a bookshelf, closed behind me with a soft click, a symbolic gesture that seemed to seal away the external pressures and doubts that had dogged me throughout my sommelier certification journey.
The Guild, bathed in the golden warmth of carefully placed lighting, was more than simply a space. It became a witness to the transformation quietly taking place within me. Each step I took toward Isabella, who was engrossed in the meticulous task of arranging name plates, felt like a step into a new chapter of my life.
Her back was to me, but it was as if she could sense my presence, turning with a smile that effortlessly bridged the gap between us. In that smile, I found not just a friend, but a pillar of support, a confidante who had seen beyond the façade of confidence I often projected. It was to her, this beacon of unwavering belief and encouragement, that I wanted to first reveal the news of my passing.
“I did it, Isabella,” the words spilled out, tinged with a mixture of disbelief and pride. For a moment, I allowed myself to fully absorb the gravity of what this achievement meant.
Passing the sommelier exam wasn’t just about earning a title. It was a validation of my passion, a testament to the endless hours of study, the sacrifices, and the singular focus that had defined my life recently. It was a credential that placed me firmly within the world I had long admired from the fringes, a mark of expertise I could now bring to both the Prism Society and the Mirage Guild.
Her reaction was immediate: her eyes lit up, and a cheer escaped her lips. “Max, that’s incredible! I knew you could do it!” She jumped up from her seat and came over to throw her arms around my neck in excitement. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and for a moment, I basked in the glow of her praise, a stark contrast to the doubts and critiques I’d become accustomed to.
This achievement opened more than just professional doors. It was an opportunity to redefine my role within our circle, to bring a new depth of knowledge and passion to our endeavors. With my certification, I could now elevate our wine programs, curating experiences that were not only luxurious but also deeply informed and personalized. It was a chance to blend the art and science of wine in ways that would enchant our patrons, creating moments of connection and discovery that transcended the ordinary.
In that moment, surrounded by the soft hum of preparation and the tangible sense of anticipation for what the Mirage Guild would become, I felt an alignment between my personal aspirations and the collective vision we were building. It was a confirmation that my journey hadn’t been just about obtaining a title, but about finding my place in a world where my passion for wine could flourish and contribute to something truly extraordinary.
And as we broke away from the embrace, the future felt bright with possibility, not just for me, but for all of us who were pouring our hearts into the creation of something magical. The Mirage Guild, with its promise of sensuality and discovery, was not just a project; it was a canvas for us to express our deepest passions and to invite others to explore alongside us.
Relief sagged my shoulders at finally being past this hurdle.
We stood there for a moment, her arms still loosely circling my neck, my hands resting comfortably at her hips. Her eyes held that impossible mix of green and gray, like ocean water churning beneath a stormy sky.
God, she was beautiful. And kind, and whip-smart, and . . . everything I never knew I wanted. The realization hit me like a blow, nearly knocking the wind from my lungs. I was falling for her. Hard.
The revelation struck with the intensity of a physical force, leaving me momentarily breathless. As I stood there, watching Isabella navigate the preparations with a mix of grace and determination, the truth of my feelings for her crystallized. She was not just a flicker of adolescent longing reignited. She had become the epicenter of my world, embodying qualities I hadn’t even known to long for.
It wasn’t just her beauty, which was undeniable, or her intelligence and kindness, which were evident to anyone who spent more than a few moments in her company. It was the depth of her compassion, her unwavering support that had quietly woven itself into the fabric of my daily existence, making her indispensable to me.
Over the past few months, as we collaborated and faced challenges together, Isabella had shown up for me in ways that went beyond mere professional courtesy or friendship. She had become my confidante, my cheerleader, someone who saw beyond the façade I often presented to the world. Her presence had become a balm to the chaotic nature of my life, grounding me with her steadfastness and understanding.
The realization that my feelings had evolved, deepening into something more profound and enduring than a mere crush, was both exhilarating and daunting. Isabella had become everything I never knew I needed, her strength and vulnerability intertwining in a way that drew me closer, compelling me to reconsider the nature of my affections for her.
It was in the small moments, the exchanges that others might overlook, that the breadth of my feelings became apparent. The way she listened, truly listened, when I spoke about my aspirations and fears. The way her laughter could light up the darkest of days, and how her mere presence seemed to make any challenge surmountable.
I kept my eyes locked on Isabella as I slowly brought my face down to hers, lightly brushing my lips over her own. Her mouth opened for me, and I greedily leaned in for more. Her mouth was warm and tasted like cinnamon and orange from the tea she had sitting next to her. I slid my tongue over her teeth and felt her melt into me.
A groan escaped my mouth as she tilted her hips forward to grind against the bulge forming in my jeans. “If you don’t stop that, I’m going to have to take you in one of those rooms, Isabella,” I said into her mouth.
Her hands left my neck and trailed down my chest, one snaking down to rub me through my jeans. “Is that a promise?” she asked.
She let out a laugh and huff of air as I quickly scooped her up and threw her over my shoulder, stalking around the stage. There were small rooms that lined either side of the stage, each with a distinct theme and accessories to match. I turned the knob of the room with the golden lion head on it.
Inside, I pressed a brass button to turn the lights on. The lights were all programmed to be set to dim so we could keep the mood intimate. The entire room glowed with the light bouncing off the mirrored walls and ceiling.
