Eight Hundred Grapes (51)

“I have to tell them tonight.”

“Okay. So you do want this?”

She shook her head. “It is flattering that they want me still.”

“Of course they do.”

“There is a version in which I go alone. And you come and visit. We could do that too.”

He wasn’t going to separate again, not after what had happened last time. He didn’t think he was strong enough. Marie, standing before him.

“I’d rather go with you.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t loving.

“What?”

“That’s not the same thing as you saying you want to come, Dan.”

“I said I’ll go. I’ll go. What do you want from me, Jen?”

“What do you want from me?” she said.

She waited. It was clear that she wanted everything. She wanted the devotion that she gave to him. She wanted him to stop standing there, pretending he didn’t know these things.

He watched as she walked away from him. He should have stopped her. He should have insisted that they go because he knew how much she wanted it, even if she wasn’t saying it. She wanted to go back to New York if for no other reason than to remember how much she didn’t need to be in New York anymore. Having a taste of that life again would show her she had picked the one that mattered more to her.

What was there to debate? There was one thing for him to say. The details don’t matter, we’ll figure it out.

He was ready to say it, what she most needed to hear.

“Jen,” he said.

But when she didn’t hear him, he didn’t say her name louder. He said it softer, like that was the very same thing.





Home I didn’t want to go back into the house—not until Michelle was gone—so I headed toward the vineyard, toward the winery, calling Suzannah on the way.


“What’s going on?” she said.

“I ended it.”

“What?” She sounded shocked. “What do you mean, you ended it? You’re getting married in five days!”

“Maddie’s mother showed up here and she’s still in love with Ben.”

“So I take it that you didn’t listen to my turtle analogy?”

“How does that apply?”

“Someone opened the door for her!”

I moved deeper into the vines, wanting to feel something besides what I was feeling. “How could he not tell me she wanted to be with him again?”

“How can you let her win?”

“I didn’t know it was a contest.”

“Of course it is!”

I thought of Michelle, stunning and sure of herself. She wasn’t particularly fond of me, though she was great with Maddie. And I could see how, given the chance, she’d be great to Ben.

“Then I’m going to lose.”

“No you’re not. So she’s a little famous. A little gorgeous.”

“Can someone be a little gorgeous?”

“So she’s more than a little gorgeous,” she said. “She’s incredibly gorgeous. You’re not so bad either.”

I laughed.

“Seriously, you’re smart and successful and the most loving person I know. Not to mention gorgeous in your own right. Michelle Carter has nothing on you.”

“Says my best friend.”

“And the man you’re supposed to be with,” Suzannah said.

She was quiet.

“It’s not too late to work this out with him.”

“Why are you pushing me to forgive him?”

“Because you did the wrong thing.”

My heart dropped. “Why are you saying that?”

“Because I have to.” She paused, as if considering how to convince me of that. “Charles cheated on me in high school. Have I told you that? I’m sure I’ve told you that.”

She had told me a hundred times. It was the first story Suzannah had shared, my first day at work, or, after work, when she’d taken me for a welcome-to-law-firm-hell drink. Law firms like to make enemies out of their female lawyers, she said. Let’s be best friends instead. Then she proceeded to prove her friendship by telling me that her husband had been unfaithful. Only halfway through the story did it become clear that Charles had cheated on her in high school. That she remembered it like yesterday, walking in and seeing him with the head of the drama club and clocking him in the head.

“If I hadn’t forgiven him, I would have given up an entire life with him. Our family. All the good things. I was rewarded for forgiving him. That is what I’m trying to say. Forgive Ben. You will be rewarded.”

“There is a difference here. Charles was fifteen when he lied to you.”

She paused. “Details. The point is, you guys are supposed to be together. You have the kind of relationship that is hard to find and even harder to keep. Just like ours, me and Charles.”

I shook my head, feeling like the opposite was true. Otherwise, how had we ended up here?

She was quiet. “Why don’t you come home?”

I thought of Los Angeles and my empty house there. I thought of London, which felt impossibly far away. I looked around at the beautiful vineyard, which was about to belong to someone else.

Suddenly, I had no idea where that was.