But he couldn’t confess everything to his mom now. She was injured, and stressed about the inn. He didn’t want her to be upset about his job, too. And plus, like he’d said to Avery, he still didn’t know how long this thing with Margot was going to last.
“Yeah, Mom,” he said, looking down at the computer. “Things are going well there.”
Why did he feel so guilty when he said that?
* * *
LUKE SPENT THE NIGHT at Margot’s house every night that week. Margot knew they should hold off, that they should take breaks from each other, that she shouldn’t let herself get too attached too fast, but every morning when he left he said, See you later? and every time she said, Yes, see you later. She couldn’t help herself. She liked him, she liked everything about him. She liked the way he asked her questions about her day and listened, really listened, to her answers; she liked the stupid jokes he cracked when he could tell something had gotten her in a bad mood; she liked the way he smiled at and chatted with their waitress at the burger place they went to on Thursday night after work; she liked the huge tips he left, without calling attention to them; she liked the way he talked about his mom, exasperated but loving.
And she liked—she really liked—the way he looked at her, the way he talked to her, the way he touched her. Like she was the only person he’d ever looked at in that way, like he’d been waiting all day to talk to her, like the ability to touch her, to kiss her, was a privilege.
But every night? She had to stop this. It was too fast. She would get sick of him, or he would get sick of her, more likely. She decided this on Thursday, on Friday, on Saturday, all during the day at work, but every night right when she was about to leave the winery, he would text her, or she would text him, and he would be waiting at her door when she got home.
On Sunday, she decided for sure. They’d both been working hard all week, not sleeping enough; they probably both needed a break from each other.
No, they definitely did. Plus, she hadn’t been by the Barrel in way too long. She would go, sit at the bar, talk to Sydney. And then she’d go home and get work done—she still had so much to do for the party, so many tiny details to figure out so it would be perfect. She could see Luke Monday. Or even Tuesday. This thing between them couldn’t last too long; she didn’t want herself to get too attached. Luke was only up here in Napa Valley temporarily, she knew that. He wasn’t looking for anything serious, she assumed. She would still enjoy the hell out of this as long as she could, obviously. But she didn’t want to make it into something it wasn’t.
She didn’t text him before she left the winery that night. She didn’t even check her phone. She parked at her house, walked over to the Barrel, and slid into her regular seat at the corner of the bar.
“Excuse me?” she said to Sydney’s back. “Can I get some service over here?”
Sydney turned around and gave her a wide smile.
“Welcome to the Barrel! Can I interest you in some wine? We have plenty of local Napa Valley vintages. Are you visiting the area?”
Margot pursed her lips.
“Come off it, Syd.”
Sydney opened her eyes wide.
“Oh! It’s you! Margot Noble, as I live and breathe! It’s been so long, I barely recognized you. How have you been?”
Margot just stared at her and did her best not to smile as Sydney’s grin got wider.
“Don’t even remember how you’ve been? The sex is that good, huh?”
“Sydney!”
Sydney laughed, and Margot couldn’t help herself from laughing, too. Sydney pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine, poured a glass, and set it in front of Margot.
“There. My penance, for making fun of you.”
Margot picked up the glass.
“Thank you. And the answer to your question is yes.”
Sydney grinned.
“I thought so. Where is lover boy tonight? Is he joining you here soon?”
Margot shook her head.
“No. And I don’t know where he is. I decided we needed a little break from each other tonight.”
She fought herself not to pull her phone out to see if he’d texted.
What if he hadn’t texted? Or what if he had, and was waiting outside her house for her? She should check, just to make sure.
“Why?” Sydney asked.
Margot looked up at Sydney.
“What?”
“Why?” Sydney repeated. “Why did you decide you needed to have a break from each other tonight? Did you have a fight?”