Drunk on Love(103)

Elliot nudged her with his knee.

“Come on, give me some credit. You don’t have to tell me that, I know you wouldn’t do that. And no, it wasn’t obvious. But when you said you’d been dating someone, I remembered the way he looked at you in your office on Saturday. And I did kind of wonder why he was working so hard during the party, when he doesn’t actually work here anymore.” He grinned. “Plus, I always sort of thought he had a crush on you.”

She sighed and picked up her wineglass.

“Well, it was more than that. At least, I thought it was more.” She shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”

She took a gulp of wine.

“What happened?” Elliot asked.

She shook her head.

“It’s a long story. It was probably all my fault for thinking there was more to the relationship than he wanted. I thought we were . . . We had a fight, Sunday morning. I think we broke up. I don’t know. It started with one thing and then there was another thing and then it spiraled and we both said terrible things to each other and I haven’t heard from him since then. Why would he say things like that? Or tell me that it wasn’t a big deal when it was a very big deal! I know they weren’t together for real, but why didn’t he tell me? And . . .” She looked down at her wine. “I’m sorry, I’m not making sense. But that’s why I’m sitting in the dark getting drunk on your wine and not at all doing it justice.”

Elliot put his arm around her.

“Our wine. And what’s the point of owning a winery if you can’t take advantage of it once in a while?”

“Our wine. You said ‘our wine.’?” She burst into tears. “I know on Saturday you said . . . I think it really hit me, just now. I’m sorry, I’m a mess.”

Any other time, she wouldn’t have let herself fall apart around Elliot like this. He’d always hated it, when they were kids, teenagers, when she got all emotional. He never did. She half expected him to get up and leave, maybe toss her a box of tissues. But he just sat there with her, not saying anything, but with his arm tight across her shoulders, until she stopped crying.

“Will you let your big brother give you some advice?” he asked her after a few minutes.

She nodded.

“As you can see, I need all the advice I can get.”

He laughed softly.

“I know that’s not true. But—does Luke know how much you care about him? I don’t have to ask if you care about him a lot. The Margot Noble I know would never sit on the floor of her winery crying about some guy she didn’t care a whole lot about.”

“Our winery,” she said. “And . . . I think he knows. I mean, it’s only been a month. But . . .” She dropped her head into her hands. “I miss him so much. I’m still so mad at him, but I miss him so much.”

“If the answer is just ‘I think so’ then you have to talk this out with him,” he said. “Don’t make my mistakes. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

Margot turned to look at Elliot. What mistakes was he talking about?

He shook his head.

“Long story,” he said. “I’ll tell you, sometime. But for now—you should at least see if there’s a way to work this out. Don’t let it fester.”

Elliot was right. Of course he was right.

Margot started to get up, to go find her phone. Elliot pulled her back down.

“Not now. Not while you’re drunk, and still mad at him. That story never ends well. Take some time to think about it, but not too much time.” He stood up and reached for her hands to pull her up. “Here. We need to get some french fries in you.”

“French fries!” Margot let him pull her up. “Oh God, I could eat an entire bucket. Do you remember how—”

“How we would sneak out and get fries and Mom would yell at us because she could still smell them in the car the next day? Of course I do.”

He put their wineglasses on top of the bar.

“Wait here.”

He went into the back, and came out a minute later, her bag and phone in his hands.

“I turned off your light, you’re clearly not doing any more work tonight.” He opened the front door. “First fries, and then I’m going to get you home. How exactly did you plan to get home, after drinking almost a whole bottle of wine while sitting on the tasting room floor?”

She followed Elliot out to his truck.

“I would like you to know that I started off drinking wine on the couch, I only later moved to the floor. And I hadn’t gotten that far—I think after the second glass I had some idea of sleeping on the couch in my office? But that would have been deeply uncomfortable, now that I think about it.”

Elliot laughed, and helped her into the truck. Why did they make trucks so hard to get into?

“Can we write it into our partnership contract that anytime one of us is at the drinking-wine-on-the-floor stage, the other one will come bring them fries and drive them home?” Elliot asked. “Because I know my time will come.”

She reached out a hand to him.

“Shake on it.”

He grabbed her hand, and they shook hard.



* * *





LUKE GOT TO THE inn early Friday morning. He did not feel entirely . . . well after everything he’d eaten at Avery’s house the night before, but it was high tourist season, there would be a ton of check-ins and checkouts and questions from guests today, and he had to be ready for all of that.