Hannah and I had agreed to join Wes for a wine tasting on the mainland—some fun to distract us from our island worries. Spending time with Wes today seemed like a safe choice, a chance to learn more about his friendship with Nathan and a welcome distraction. However, not telling Scott nags at me. Now, with Hannah backing out at the last minute, it’s just Wesand me on this trip. Is that okay? How will Scott feel about it? What exactly are me and Scott, anyway?
Wes reaches out, his fingers curling in invitation. I hesitate for a moment before slipping my hand into his. He helps me off the swing, steadying me as I rise, then pulls me toward him. His grip is warm and firm.
“Good wine. Good company. You’ll feel better soon. Trust me.”
We head toward his rental Jaguar. I had no idea you could rent a Jaguar, but apparently, Wes can.
As we pull out of the driveway, he turns on his playlist. The tunes ofExplosions in the Skyenvelop us. The music is uplifting, cathartic.
Focusing on the road, he glances my way as we talk.
“What type of wine do you enjoy? Red or white? Sweet or dry?”
“I’ve never given it much thought. Maybe red? I’m not a fan of anything sweet.”
He laughs.
“What?”
“I figured you’d like sweet.” He pats my leg.
“I’ve never been to a wine tasting. Hopefully, I won’t embarrass you.”
“You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried,” he huffs. “May I suggest we order a flight with a regional variety? And maybe we’ll drink just one sweet wine to finish?”
“I’ll follow your lead.” The excitement of the trip is lifting my spirits. “This is fun. I never do fancy things.”
“You deserve fancy.”
We discuss various topics while driving, such as my veterinarian residency and our families, even though Wes is vague about his childhood. It’s like his life began in adulthood. I plan to press him for more one day. However, I sense there’sa dark memory from his distant past he’s trying to overcome and wants to forget. I’ll give him time to share. Being in Wes’s company is easy, and I’m appreciating how genuine he is, away from the cameras and crowds. No one can replace Nathan, but I feel light and free with Wes, like I did when I was with Nathan.
When we reach the vineyard, neat rows of grapevines stretch for acres. Near the vines, an elegant stone and wood building stands, with parking spaces in front. Two are filled, so Wes parks the car in the third spot and opens my door.
“Muscadine grapes are the varieties grown in this climate.”
“Aren’t those the ugly grapes?”
He laughs. “Yes, but they’re delicious in wine and juice. They also have a lot of health benefits.”
As we step inside, I absorb the romantic energy of the Italian-style winery. The host greets Wes and leads us to a private tasting room. We sit at a small table, a large charcuterie board in the center, accompanied by two tall glasses of iced water. The rich aroma of cheese and cured meat makes my stomach rumble.
“Hungry?”
I give him an abashed look and sit down.
“Just relax and enjoy this.”
I take a sip of water and let my shoulders drop, allowing the atmosphere to soak in.
The sommelier enters with a cart full of wine bottles and glasses. “Mr. Harrington, Ms. Carter.” He bows. “Good afternoon, and welcome toBeau Fruit du Coeur.”
“Fruit of the Heart,” Wes translates.
“I’ve curated a selection of wines that showcase the regional beauty of our vineyard. If there is anything in particular you’d like to explore, please let me know.”
He starts with muscadine white and red wines, followed by a rosé and a semi-sweet blanc. Wes has let me tell all my wackystories about growing up and diving. I fill him in on my diving adventure the other day and how much fun it was. Amused, he listens, enjoying the wine and food.
“Hmm.” He takes another olive and pops it into his mouth. When I raise my brows, he continues. “It’s interesting what’s on your mind. The past, the ocean, the project.”
