I let out a silent sigh of relief at the much-needed humor warming Bel’s voice.
“For shame, y’all, there’s a baby present,” I say, loud enough for her to hear across the family room.
“There won’t be when Maisie goes to bed.” Beau glowers at me. “Which won’t happen until you get the fuck out of my house. If you wake up in hell tomorrow, you’ll know who killed you. Hint: it was me. I shot you right between the eyes because you did exactly what I told you not to do and slept with Emma. Only the sommelier I’ve been trying to hire for two fucking years. The one woman who can not only expand our wine program, but who can take it to the next level. Take the entire resort to the next level and put us in a class of our own. Goddammit, Samuel, I could wring your neck.”
My entire being burns with shame. I will the floor to open and swallow me in a single gulp.
“I knew it,” Annabel yells. “Samuel, from the moment I saw you and Emma together, I knew y’all were trouble.”
“I should’ve seen it. Maybe I did see it, but I was otherwise occupied.” He looks down at Maisie and smiles, then looks up at me and scowls. “You should go.”
I dig the letter out of my jacket pocket and slide it across the table. “I’m serious, Beau. This is my letter of resignation, effective immediately. I’ve included my recommendation for my replacement.”
“I’m not dealing with your bullshit right now.”
“I’m not bullshitting.” I nod at the letter. “Open it.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, grabbing the paper. He scans it, eyes going wide. “Holy shit, Samuel. Just—holy shit.”
“Told you I’m serious.”
“But the cellar. The staff. No one can shut up about how great your little scone and martini breakfast icebreaker thing was. Brother, you were just hitting your stride.”
I flatten my hands on the table to keep them from shaking. I’m scared as fuck, but I’m going in anyway.
After I got off the phone with Emma, I didn’t hesitate. I knew exactly what I had to do.
It means leveling everything I’ve worked for. Everything that’s kept me sane since my retirement. But I will not see Emma lose her shot at happiness on my account.
It hurts like hell, giving it all up. But I’d like to think it’s what Daddy would do.
I’d like to think I’m making him proud.
“I hit my stride because I had Emma working beside me. Now that she’s gone—”
“Wait.” Beau stares at me. “Don’t tell me Emma is resigning, too? I thought you said you wanted her as your replacement!”
I swallow. “She’s gonna try. To quit, I mean. But you can’t let her. Emma, Hank, and I—the three of us shouldn’t be working together. Someone has to go, and of course she was the first to volunteer.”
“Such a Katniss move,” Bel calls.
I pull my brows together. “Who’s Katniss, and why do I have a feeling she has something to do with that sparkly vampire guy?”
“Clearly, you need to brush up on your YA love triangles. Anyway—I could wring all y’alls’ necks right now. I’m not accepting this.” He tosses the letter back at me. It flutters awkwardly through the air, landing somewhere on the floor next to his chair.
“Too bad. I’m not working for Blue Mountain Farm anymore.”
Beau lets out an aggravated sigh. “Why can’t the three of you work together? You’re adults. Y’all just need to swallow your pride and get over your damn selves.”
I dip my head. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do here. But there’s a lot of hurt feelings involved—”
“Have you talked to Hank? Reached out to him?”
My chest tightens. “No.”
“You need to figure that shit out.”
“He’s the one who kissed my girl.”
Beau narrows his eyes at me. “You showed your ass when Emma got here. Now he’s showing his when she leaves. Really, you’re both at fault, and you both have shit to atone for.”
“Maybe,” I sniff. “Maybe not. Either way, I don’t trust myself to talk to him without it ending bloody.”
“What? Who do you think you are, Jax Teller? This isn’t a motorcycle club. This is a family. And I won’t see it come apart on my watch. Make things right with Hank, you hear? I’m telling you as a boss, but first and foremost, I’m telling you as a brother. We’ve all come too far and been through too much shit to give up on each other now. Besides, what do you think is gonna happen after you resign? Will you really never talk to Hank again? Are you going to skip Sunday supper from now until forever so y’all don’t have to see each other? The problem is still gonna be there, Samuel, whether you leave or not. Find Hank and talk to him. Right now. Walk out that door”—he nods in the direction of his foyer—“find your brother, and make this right. Don’t freeze him out until you’ve heard his side of the story.”