Chapter Twenty-Six
The morning after they’d returned from New York, the air tasted sweeter, her chest felt lighter, and she was more optimistic than she’d been in a really long time. Not the desperate, edgy kind of optimism that came with trying to climb the finance world ladder, but . . . a calm sense that she was in the right place. That she might just be enough on her own without having to prove herself over and over again.
While waiting to board their flight at JFK, Natalie had called and explained everything to Claudia and offered to compensate her for all the time she’d spent working on their start-up. Of course, she’d accepted, because smart was smart. Natalie’s loyal friend may have even seemed a little happy that her marriage to August was going to stick. Not that she would ever admit it. Natalie had also left a message with Savage’s assistant letting him know they would no longer require the investment. Unless he fancied putting his money behind a winery with a one-star Yelp rating.
No word back yet.
Julian and Corinne had been waiting in August’s driveway when they pulled up, having been alerted of their arrival back in Napa via text from August. Her mother actually apologized—and meant it, unless Natalie was totally mistaken. Her mother genuinely hadn’t wanted to bother Natalie with business on “her honeymoon” but would be including her in all interactions with VineWatch going forward.
“Not only that, I’ll be grateful for your input,” her mother had said.
Yeah. The air felt different today. Easier to inhale.
Natalie stopped short in front of the production barn.
Even after August’s assurance that no part of the winery was off-limits to her anymore, she still couldn’t bring herself to simply walk inside. Her husband stepped into view inside the barn, waving at her from the dusky interior, a leather apron pulled on over his white T-shirt.
“Morning, princess.”
Warmth trickled through her at the husky familiarity in his voice and she had to force a sip of coffee past the lump in her throat. “Morning.”
He cleaned his hands on a rag a lot longer than seemed necessary, all while looking her over. “I was hoping you could help me out in here today.”
Her fingers flexed around the coffee mug, happiness popping like bubbles below her throat. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, his attention falling to the wine barrels briefly, then shooting back to her eyes. “I need you.”
Natalie shook her head. “You can take some time letting me in, August.”
He looked prepared for that response, because his expression didn’t change one iota. His voice remained even, though the latter seemed to require an effort. “You’re in, Natalie. You’re in deep and that’s where I want you. I can’t do this for Sam by myself. I need you with me. I’ve needed you with me all along.” He paused. “That’s probably why I couldn’t hear him the other day. He was giving me the silent treatment until I pulled my head out of my ass. He’s back now.”
Natalie breathed in and out very carefully, positive too big of an inhale would snap her in half. “I’m so glad, August,” she whispered unevenly. “I’m glad he’s back.”
“I was trying to beat back my guilt for not saving Sam by doing this all myself, but the truth is . . . he never would have wanted that.” He looked around at the interior of the barn, as if seeing it for the first time. “He never would have wanted me to succeed at his dream . . . at the cost of you.” His eyes found their way back to her. “Because you’re my dream. He’d want me to have you as much as he wanted this place. And . . . I’m the one who is still here. He’d tell me to cut the shit, quit feeling guilty, and live this dream with my wife.”
It was hard to find words, let alone the right ones in that moment, so she simply spoke from the heart. “You were lucky to have Sam, August. But he was lucky to have you, too.”
“Thanks.” Clearing his throat, he shoved the rag into his pocket hastily. “Jesus, I can’t believe I ever asked you to stay out now that I want you in here with me so fucking bad, Natalie.”
“Okay, I’m coming,” she said breathlessly, desperate to stop his flow of words before he said something, a final thing that would make her crumble. “Okay.” She cradled her mug against her chest and approached him, her pulse ripping into an unruly rhythm the closer she came to August and his big leather apron. “You don’t have to be so dramatic.”
“I’m completely dramatic over you. Deal with it.”
She slipped past him into the production facility, the fronts of their bodies brushing together and making their breath catch. “If I have to deal with your drama, you have to deal with my speech about the intricacies of a grape.”
“Done.” He followed behind Natalie, leaving her almost no room to breathe. “I’m all ears. And muscles, because obviously. Lay your intricacies on me, princess.”
Natalie stopped in front of the racked barrels, noticing immediately that August had spent the morning filtering the ones she hadn’t had time to do on Friday.
She looked at August to find a serious expression on his face, arms crossed.
He wasn’t just paying her lip service, he was actively following her lead.
“Um . . .” She wet her suddenly dry lips. Why was her pulse going so fast? “Well. The character of a grape depends on a lot of factors. Climate, soil, whether the vines were stressed or understressed, the temperature at which they were picked and stored. I’m sure you’re aware by now of tannins. They provide texture. They give the wine structure.” She glanced back at the equipment behind her that was no longer in use. “You appear to have given the wine a short maceration time at a warmer temperature. That’s a good practice for extracting those tannins. Where you’re going wrong is the fermentation period.”
“The filtration helped,” August said without shifting his attention from her face. “I tasted some and didn’t want to curl up and die. But it still needs a lot of work.”
“Yes. We’ve removed the bacteria and excess yeast. But we need to continue to blend our wine. It hasn’t been given enough oxygen.”
“Sort of symbolic, isn’t it?” He swooped in and kissed the side of her neck, lingering there for a second, wetter one. “The blending of two lives . . .”
“Are you going to be this romantic all the time?” She gasped as his lips moved hotly over her ear. “Or is it all the bacteria talk getting you worked up?”
“I’m going to give you all the romance you can stand, Natalie queen princess Cates.” His smile was flirtatious against her mouth. “But mainly, it’s all the ‘our wine’ and ‘we need to continue to blend’ talk. It makes us sound like a team.”
“That’s what we are,” she whispered, her emotions vibrating like a tuning fork. “Isn’t it?”
“No, Natalie. Like I told you . . .” His forehead dropped to hers. “We’re the dream team.”
She smiled on the heels of their kiss. “I think you just named our first vintage.”
“First of many.”
* * *
A handful of days later, on the way home from buying August socks without holes—seriously, he didn’t own a single intact pair—Natalie had the craziest urge to pull over and buy flowers, too. The shopping trip was quite a departure from her usual routine of popping into one of St. Helena’s many wine stores around four P.M. for a bottle—and backup bottle—of Cabernet. Who was this person she was slowly turning into? She hadn’t even blow-dried her hair this morning, she’d just showered and let it dry in haphazard waves, because she couldn’t wait to meet August in the facility, where he was already up and working.
Each morning, while she drank her coffee, she watched him from the window of the house, smiling into every sip as he continually glanced over his shoulder, waiting for her to come join him. Visibly eager to have his partner in crime out in the barn at his side. She’d gladly given up her blow-drying time in the mornings just to watch it. Observe how much he wanted her company. How much he wanted her around, all the time.
Now, Natalie pulled onto the dusty shoulder, parked, and got out. She had groceries in the back of the car so August could make them dinner tonight, because some things would never change. She wasn’t going to become a chef, in addition to becoming a vintner. There was only one cook in the family, as evidenced by her pitiful attempt at eggs yesterday. Genius move, marrying a man who was accustomed to surviving on field rations—he’d choked them down without blinking and appeared only mildly seasick afterward.
On her way to the flower stand, her heart swelled so much that her entire chest felt like a struck funny bone. The gooey sensation melted down into her fingertips and tingled there. And she walked faster, wanting to get home.
Something inside her was healing at a rapid rate, not only because of this love stampede that had totally trampled her beneath its hooves. But because she’d pushed for exactly what she needed and deserved. She’d accepted nothing less and the reward . . .
It reminded her of the wild blooms that burst from all corners of the road-side stand. Colorful. Beautiful. Every time she looked at one of the bouquets, she saw something new, something different. She’d spent a long time on one side of a wall, with her fear of rejection, and August had been behind a different one. They couldn’t see each other until they’d both climbed over and met in the middle. In a sea of flowers.
Or grapes, as it were.
“What’ll it be? The roses or the lilies?”
Natalie’s head came up, a puzzled expression on her face. She hadn’t narrowed it down to two options yet. Was the flower vendor speaking to her?
A gentleman she hadn’t noticed before had approached from the opposite end of the shoulder. Wait . . . she recognized the man. It was August’s CO. Commander Zelnick. What was he doing back in St. Helena?
The commander glanced at Natalie from the corner of his eye and nodded politely, but he obviously didn’t recognize her—and no wonder. Last time she met the man, she’d been in a skirt and blouse with perfectly coiffed hair and makeup. Currently, she was in a loose pair of boyfriend jeans, a tank top, and no bra, with sunburned cheeks, and she looked like she’d just been through a wind tunnel.
She approached the CO slowly, intending to reintroduce herself and ask what had brought him back to St. Helena, but he spoke to the vendor first. “I’m not sure. I met her only once, but I think she’s more the roses type.”
Was it possible . . . he was here to visit August and those flowers were for her? More than possible. It was likely. Who else could this man know in a town where he didn’t reside?
As the flower salesman went about wrapping the roses in paper, Natalie approached, clearing her throat softly. “Excuse me, Commander Zelnick. It’s me. Natalie. August’s wife.” There was no way to stop the smile that spread across her mouth after saying those words, so she simply let it grow and held out her hand for a shake. “I think you’re buying me flowers?”
After a moment of clear confusion, he merely looked chagrined. “I’m sorry.” He shook her hand once, firmly. “I didn’t recognize you.”
I don’t recognize myself these days.
At least all the new, good parts.
Natalie nodded. “I thought as much.” She gestured to her dusty jeans. “We’ve spent some time out working in the vineyard today, cultivating the soil. I ran to the store to grab some ingredients for dinner—more than enough for three. I assume you’re on your way to see August?”
“I am. Have to keep a soldier on his toes.” He accepted the bouquet from the vendor, hesitated, then handed them to her with a slight blush, making her laugh.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you. And you’re right, I’m definitely the roses type.”
“Excellent.” He handed the man behind the counter a twenty and told him to keep the change. “I suppose I’ll see you in a few minutes at Zelnick Cellar. I’m interested to see how August has taken advantage of my investment. Maybe some new equipment, or . . .”
He trailed off, expecting Natalie to jump in with an answer. She didn’t have one.
Investment?
Obviously not picking up on the fact that she was stunned, the man continued on while unearthing his car keys from the pocket of his slacks. “I know it has been only a few weeks, but I’m eager to see what improvements have been made.”
A few weeks.
The commander had given August money? For the vineyard?
They’d been in such a happiness haze since returning from New York, they hadn’t really spoken about the missed appointment with Ingram at the bank. They’d made no move to reschedule. August hadn’t even brought it up. If his commanding officer had given August an investment weeks ago, had he ever needed a bank loan in the first place?
Had he been keeping a secret, too?
Had he even needed to marry her?
“What investment?” she croaked.
* * *
August took the rag out of his back pocket and swiped it across his sweaty brow, a smile curving his lips when he heard a car pull up in front of the house. Honey, I’m home. He’d been begging Natalie to utter that phrase just once and she’d refused, but he’d get it out of her eventually. Maybe tonight. Maybe now.
He stripped off his shirt.
Went to the back door and did a few pull-ups on the doorframe, hoping it would make his muscles pop. His wife was a sucker for these pecs, which was only fair, because he was a sucker for her. The week since returning from New York was not just the happiest of his life, it was the happiest of anyone’s life, and he’d fight whoever disagreed.
As if he could even locate enough irritation inside himself to throw a punch. He was all sunshine and doves below the neck these days. His wife was really his wife. She was happy with him. She actually fucking loved him back, this human work of art. With every passing day, he discovered more about her, too. Her ticklish spots, her very precise routine in the shower that involved around nine different products, all of which smelled like goddamn heaven, the silly voice she used to speak to the cat when she thought he couldn’t hear.
The hopeful way she talked about her family as they continued to reconnect, the intent way she listened, like she couldn’t wait to be his confidant, the way she sometimes just needed a rubber band for her hair. Seriously, he’d started keeping a collection of the little black bands on his wrist, because she could never seem to find one, despite the fact that they were everywhere in the house. Sometimes all he had to do to make her smile was hand her a rubber band so she could put her hair up in one of those crazy knots. The first time it happened, she’d looked at him like he’d just turned his chair around for her on The Voice.
They fought over control of the television remote.
They fought over a lot of things.
She couldn’t cook for shit.
And he loved her with the fire of a thousand suns.
Which made those fights end pretty damn quickly, because his chest started to sting and all he wanted was to make her happy again. It helped that she didn’t like fighting with him anymore, either. She’d grumped at him this morning before her coffee and two minutes later, she’d been crawling onto his lap at the dining room table with apology kisses. Leading to apology sex. His nuts were back in a knot right now, just thinking about how she’d pouted the word sorry against his mouth, straddling him.
Rocking just once on his lap and liquefying his brain.
Was it possible to marry her again? Or did he have to wait a certain number of years to renew their vows?
This phenomenal woman had snuck over barriers he didn’t even know existed inside him. She’d started helping him bring Sam’s dream to life . . . and slowly it was becoming their dream, too. Yeah, it was becoming theirs, and that was more than okay. It was his life now and he desperately wanted to go on living it forever.
August dropped down from the doorframe after a few more pull-ups, his brow knitting over the arrival of a second car. Who was that?
When he walked out of the barn, the person he needed to see was Natalie—and he did. Briefly. She glanced at him with a strange look on her face as she slipped into the house with a bunch of roses in her arms, shutting the door behind her. What the hell was that?
He started after her, stopping short when his CO climbed out of the second car.
“Cates.”
As always, his spine snapped straight at the sound of his commanding officer’s voice, but his mind didn’t follow. Not this time. Something was up with his wife. Why was his neck tingling like danger was imminent?
Commander Zelnick approached with his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t mean to keep surprising you like this, Cates, but I never know when I’m going to get enough free time to drive up from Coronado.” He nodded at the barn. “I trust things are on their way to improving.”
“Yes, sir,” he said automatically—and it was the truth—but a hundred-pound weight had dropped in his stomach and something was prodding the edges of his consciousness. “Sir, would you mind waiting here a moment while I figure out my wife?”
He didn’t mean it to sound ridiculous, but his mouth wasn’t connecting with his brain. She’d stopped to buy flowers? For their house? Why did that make him feel like there was a potato sack race happening inside his chest? And why hadn’t she smiled at him?
Was something wrong?
Yes. Something is wrong.
He’d been avoiding thinking about it during their week of bliss, but with the appearance of his commanding officer, the monumental thing he’d been keeping from Natalie jumped up and dug its teeth into his jugular. Every time he thought he had gathered enough courage to tell her about the investment, he recalled the way her father and ex-fiancé had manipulated her with the contents of their bank accounts. Or her trust fund. Not to mention, the investor she’d met with in New York. How she resented their refusal to be straightforward about money.
A little longer, he kept thinking. I’ll tell her about the investment once some time has passed since my last fuckup. Really, it had been just over a week since he’d sent her running to the other side of the country. They were so happy. He’d just wanted more things about their marriage in the pro column before he added deceptive about money to the con side.
“Of course, go greet your wife,” the CO answered, laughing. “Didn’t recognize her at the flower stand. She looks different. Good different. Happier.”
“Thank you,” August managed, pulse rollicking. “Did you . . . you didn’t mention the investment, did you? I haven’t told her yet.”
The man only looked confused. “Why not?”
“It’s complicated.” August sort of just doubled over, catching himself with hands on his knees, releasing an unsteady exhale. “You did tell her. She knows.”
“It came up, yes.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Cates?”
“Sorry. Oh fuck, sir.”
This was bad. This was very bad.
His spleen was seconds from erupting, and he didn’t even know where his spleen was located. Or its function.
Fix it. Fix it now.
“I need some time with Natalie, sir,” he said, winded. “If you hear glass breaking or doors slamming, don’t worry, that’s normal around here.”
“Should I come back later?”
August took a deep breath on his journey toward the house. “That’s probably a good idea, sir.”
With a brisk nod, the commanding officer strode to his car, as if a battle awaited.
And it did. The big one.
Why the hell had August kept this from her for so long? Didn’t he know better by now?
August paused with his hand on the doorknob, then opened the door carefully, waiting a beat, just in case a plate or frying pan came flying at his head. “Princess?”
No answer.
Shit. I’m screwed.
Silent treatment from Natalie was so much worse than arguing, because he didn’t get to hear her voice and it meant her feelings were injured. Utter torture.
“Natalie,” he said, easing himself inside the house, “I’m sorry. I was going to . . .”
August stopped short just inside the door, because a sight greeted him that he wasn’t expecting. Natalie was standing in the middle of the kitchen, wringing her hands. She appeared to be . . . nervous? Why?
Did people get nervous before they asked for a divorce?
Probably.
Acid flooded his organs, so thick he could taste it in his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice in tatters. “I was going to tell you, but we’re so happy and I didn’t want you to lump me in with your father and Morrison and Savage. Listen to me, it’s not what you think. Yes, I accepted an investment from Sam’s father. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want your help with the bank loan. I wasn’t rejecting you, the way I did with making our wine. That wasn’t it at all, Natalie. I just wanted . . .” He strode forward and took her shoulders, stooping down enough to put them at eye level, alarmed beyond words to find hers full of tears. Christ oh Christ. I swore I would never make her cry again. “I wanted you to get your trust fund. Because you needed it and I love you. I wasn’t sure you would marry me if the deal was one-sided. I married you because the first time we met, you took my heart home with you in a doggy bag and never gave it back. I never want it back.” He was talking in circles. Get it together. “Keeping this secret wasn’t about pride. Or about making the winery a success on my own. I just wanted to do something important for the woman who is my reason for getting out of bed in the morning. It was all out of love. Nothing else.”
Several seconds passed in silence.
Then, to his surprise, she nodded.
“I have to tell you something, too,” she whispered, trembling in his hands in a way that was causing him acute distress. “Oh God, August . . .”
“What is it? We can handle anything.”
She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “The day of the wedding, my father called and offered to release my trust fund.” She searched his eyes as the tears began to drip from her own. “I said no. Not because of my pride, either, but . . . because I wanted to marry you. I couldn’t put a name to how I felt about you at the time, but . . .” She swiped at her eyes, a sob sneaking out. “I loved you—I know that now. I know it so deeply.”
A rush of unimaginable happiness blew in and knocked him off his feet.
“Sorry, hold on.” August fell sideways into one of the dining room chairs, the piece of furniture skidding loudly under the sudden influx of weight. “I can’t breathe.”
Natalie knelt down in front of him, fingers rushing over him, as if to check for an injury. When she didn’t find one, she clasped his face in her hands. “August.”
“I’m here. I just can’t tell if I want to cry or throw up.”
“Don’t do either of those things.”
“Gotcha.” He took her face in his hands, too, marveling. Fucking marveling over this woman. He probably would still be reeling from the unexpected gift of her confession a hundred years from now. And as long as she was there to hold him, that would be quite all right.
Appearing dazed, she shook her head. “So, technically, we didn’t have to get married. We just . . . wanted to?”
“Incorrect. I had to marry you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know that I love you,” he rasped, kissing her hard, memorizing his wife’s tear-stained face and the affection radiating from her. “I know that no matter how it happened, it was right. I can’t breathe for loving you and loving you is the only way I can breathe.”
She shot off the floor into his lap, where she belonged, planting kisses all over his face, which he was all too happy to sit back and receive, his mind still struggling to play catch-up. God, if you’re listening, please, please give me a century just like this. “I love you just as much, August Cates,” she said, finally, against his lips. “Despite the fights. Maybe even because of them. Because there is no one more worthy of battling for.”
His wife, the love of his life, kissed him with tears in her eyes.
And at last the world made sense.
Epilogue
Eight years later
Over the course of eight years of marriage, Natalie had seen August mad plenty of times. They’d always been, and continued to be, hot-tempered individuals and they ran a successful winery together. Of course they argued. The beauty was in the forgiveness—and they did forgiveness really well. Whether they fought over temperature management of the wine or planting strategy, they didn’t stay mad long. One of them usually caved after five minutes of silent treatment. And she meant “caved” in the literal sense, because the wine cave was usually where they ended up engaging in frenzied apologies out of earshot of their employees.
Yes, she’d seen August plenty mad. But never so mad as today, when he found out their daughter’s dance partner hadn’t shown up for a recital.
“They’ve been practicing for five months and he doesn’t show up for the recital?” August started to pace, a handful of fingers shoving through his wind-blown hair, which now contained a dusting of gray at the temples. “How is she? Is she . . .” He waved his hands in a giant X. “Princess, don’t tell me she’s crying.”
They were outside the school auditorium in a huge group. Natalie, August, Hallie, Julian, Corinne, and her new husband. August’s parents were there, too, having flown in from Kansas for the big night. Truth be told, it was hard to keep August’s parents out of Napa. They’d discovered a late-in-life passion for Cabernet and were now the proud owners of summer linens and straw hats, fitting in seamlessly with the locals. August’s mother referred to her stylish new attire as her “wine pants,” and Natalie adored the woman to no end. After all, she’d raised the love of Natalie’s life. A man who’d taken to parenting like he was born to be a girl dad.
Which was a very good thing, because they had three.
Parker, the oldest at seven. Parks for short.
Elle, the youngest, at two.
Both were currently home with a babysitter—the same home where August had carried Natalie over the threshold. They’d simply kept adding on rooms.
The cat was still punishing them.
Samantha, their middle girl, was a very serious five and a half—and tonight was her jazz recital. Her older sister, Parker, played sports. August dedicated a lot of time to coaching her teams. When Samantha had expressed an interest in dance, he was very adamant that he give the same level of attention to his middle daughter’s interests, so she wouldn’t feel slighted. He might have stopped shy of teaching the dance class, but he’d asked so many questions at rehearsals that the teacher eventually started ignoring his raised hand.
“Naturally, she is a little upset, but we had some cookies and juice with the instructor, so she’s gotten her courage back,” Natalie said, laying a hand on August’s arm and drawing him close. “She’s okay. It’s not ideal, but she can still do the dance without her partner.”
“There’s a dip during the second transition, Natalie.” August looked at her long and hard. “She can’t dip herself.”
Her heart crawled up into her throat. “You know, she’s going to get through this. It’s going to be a good lesson. Life gives us lemons sometimes—”
“No one gives my girls lemons,” he said, visibly offended. “That goes double for my wife,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “No one better be giving you any lemons.”
“No one is giving me lemons.”
Her mouth seemed to be distracting him from the problem at hand. “You look insane tonight, you know that, right?” he said in a lowered voice, his gaze traveling down the front of her burgundy silk wrap dress, his right hand lifting to squeeze her hip. “I was going to tell you when we arrived, but you sprung this whole missing partner on me. Damn, look at your legs. I could literally eat you alive.”
“Seeing as though our entire families are here,” she whispered, gesturing for him to keep his own voice down, “. . . that might have to wait until later.”
“You read my mind. Cave date tonight?”
“We might as well put a bed down there at this point.”
“Smart and hot.” He pressed his lips to the center of her forehead, his arms wrapping around her in a bear hug. “How’d I get this lucky?”
She took a deep inhale of his grapefruit scent and for a moment, there was nothing and no one but the two of them. This man whom she’d married under the guise of a marriage of convenience, but whom she’d been in love with all along. This man who’d become her best friend, business partner, biggest supporter, and co-parent. They were the best thing to ever happen to each other and neither one of them took it for granted.
Looking back, eight years had gone by at the speed of sound, and yet every moment was so vivid that she could replay them in slow motion. It was almost like living through those cherished memories twice. The evening they’d opened a bottle of their first vintage and it actually tasted decent? August had put Natalie on his back and run through the vineyard while she was still holding the open container. They were covered in wine by the time they collapsed and made love under the moon, the scent of grapes and earth filling her nose. Two years of hard work later, their wine had started pouring better than decent, and it was good timing, because she’d just found out she was pregnant with Samantha.
Funny, she’d never envisioned herself as a mother. Not until she met someone who reminded her she was fearless. Someone who imbued her with twice her strength, because they were a team. In everything. Made Natalie feel like such a vital part of a family that she started dreaming of expanding it. August’s response to her broaching the subject of having kids?
Princess, I thought you’d never ask.
They didn’t come out of their bedroom for a solid forty-eight hours.
Ten months later, August had passed out from sympathy pains in the delivery room and hit his head on a metal cart, resulting in nineteen stitches.
He still had the scar and claimed it made him even more attractive.
Natalie couldn’t exactly disagree. Who didn’t like a reminder that their husband had enough empathy and love in his heart that he could lose consciousness over it?
That was August. Empathy, love . . . and unconditional support. When she wanted to use her trust fund to buy shares in VineWatch, he’d supported her without question and watched proudly at her side as that investment quadrupled in the space of a year. She’d managed to convince Corinne and Julian to do the same, their faith in her healing a deep-down wound that had been lurking since childhood. The Vos family had definitely grown closer since then. Family dinners were messier, thanks to their girls. Julian and Hallie were also parents to a beautiful set of five-year-old twin boys. One of them was very serious and had a deep obsession with sharks. The other was wild to the bone and had once been found hanging from the dining room chandelier at Corinne’s.
One day in the not-too-distant future, these cousins were going to paint St. Helena red.
For now, they had a dance recital crisis.
“Do you think I should go talk to her?” August asked now as he smoothed Natalie’s hair. “Or am I going to make it worse?”
“You only make everything better,” she said automatically.
He dipped his head on a smile that was almost bashful. “You doing that thing where you rewind the past and get all sentimental on me?”
She pressed her lips together tightly and nodded. “Maybe.”
Slowly, his smile gave way to a serious expression. “If I had one wish, it would be to slow down my time with you, Natalie. A hundred years won’t be enough.”
If they kept this up, she was either going to swoon or cry in front of their entire family. With a big inhale, she straightened the collar of his dress shirt. “Go talk to Samantha. She needs you.”
He studied her face for a long moment, as if memorizing every feature, before striding away. Natalie didn’t know what made her follow. Maybe she wanted to provide parental backup if the waterworks started again. Or maybe she just wanted to witness a moment between August and their middle daughter. But for whatever reason, she crept in his wake toward the stage entrance and peeked in through the crack of the door.
There was Samantha, the spitting image of Natalie at that age, sitting on August’s knee in her emerald green sequined dress and matching mini top hat. As Natalie had feared, her lower lip was trembling again. As strong as her impulse was to enter the room and comfort her baby, Natalie remained in place. August had this.
“You know what?” Natalie’s husband gave an exaggerated look over both shoulders. “That kid always had snot in his nose, anyway.”
Samantha giggle-sniffed.
“They’ll say he has chicken pox, but we know the truth. He couldn’t keep up with you.”
“No,” said their daughter, always logical. “He could. It’s prolly just chicken pox.”
“If you say so,” August said skeptically. “Here’s what I know. I’m going to be sitting in the audience thinking about how brave you are. All of us will. You’re so brave, Samantha. Just like your mom. Remember that story I told you about her winning over that meanie in a suit in New York?”
“Yeah.”
“And the one about her marrying a big doofus so she could follow her dreams?”
Samantha gasped. “You’re not a big doofus.”
“I was. Still am sometimes. It’s a good thing you girls love me anyway.
“Remember when we were cleaning out the wine cave and a bat flew out. I screamed, but your mom didn’t even flinch. You get your bravery from her.”
Their daughter was quiet for a long moment, her tiny throat muscles starting to strain. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Do I have to be brave alone?”
“Hell no, you don’t,” said Natalie’s husband, no hesitation.
And that’s how August ended up dancing as Samantha’s partner in the recital, with a miniature green, sequined top hat pinned to his head, every move executed flawlessly. Yet another memory that Natalie would replay again and again for the rest of their lives.
Acknowledgments
When I sat down to write this enemies-to-lovers book, I asked myself, “What is the one thing I need to feel satisfied after a book about two people feuding? What is going to make me feel better after the harshly spoken words?” The answer came to me right away. I need irrefutable proof that the hero has loved the heroine all along. I hope you’ll agree that is exactly what we have here. August and Natalie are some of my favorite characters I’ve ever written—please enjoy them and their stubborn with a side of vulnerable ways.
Thank you so much to everyone who worked on this beloved book of mine, with a special thanks to my incredible editor, Nicole Fischer, who never fails to help a story sparkle. Thank you, as well, to Daniel H. who let me ask him questions about finance. I still can’t do math.
And as always, thank you to the best READERS on earth. Your tits look insane.
Love,
Tessa
About the Author
#1 New York Times bestselling author TESSA BAILEY can solve all problems except for her own, so she focuses those efforts on stubborn, fictional blue-collar men and loyal, lovable heroines. She lives on Long Island, avoiding the sun and social interactions, then wonders why no one has called. Dubbed the “Michelangelo of dirty talk” by Entertainment Weekly, Tessa writes with spice, spirit, swoon, and a guaranteed happily ever after. Catch her on TikTok @authortessabailey or check out tessabailey.com for a complete list of her books.
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Announcement
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And keep an eye out for Tessa’s new series . . .
Wreck the Halls
A fun, sexy Christmas romance coming Fall 2023
By Tessa Bailey
Secretly Yours
Unfortunately Yours
Bellinger Sisters
It Happened One Summer
Hook, Line, and Sinker
Hot & Hammered
Fix Her Up
Love Her or Lose Her
Tools of Engagement
The Academy
Disorderly Conduct
Indecent Exposure
Disturbing His Peace
Broke and Beautiful
Chase Me
Need Me
Make Me
Romancing the Clarksons
Too Hot to Handle
Too Wild to Tame
Too Hard to Forget
Too Beautiful to Break
Made in Jersey
Crashed Out
Rough Rhythm
Thrown Down
Worked Up
Wound Tight
Crossing the Line
Risking It All
Up in Smoke
Boiling Point
Raw Redemption
Line of Duty
Protecting What’s His
Protecting What’s Theirs (novella)
His Risk to Take
Officer Off Limits
Asking for Trouble
Staking His Claim
Serve
Owned by Fate
Exposed by Fate
Driven by Fate
Beach Kingdom
Mouth to Mouth
Heat Stroke
Sink or Swim
Standalone Books
Unfixable
Baiting the Maid of Honor
Off Base
Captivated
Getaway Girl
Runaway Girl
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
UNFORTUNATELY YOURS. Copyright © 2023 by Tessa Bailey. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
Cat with bow tie illustration © lexlinx / Shutterstock
Cover illustration by Monika Roe
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
Digital Edition JUNE 2023 ISBN: 978-0-06-323904-3
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-323903-6
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