Love Story (Love Unexpectedly 3)
For the first time, I realize that she seems a little off. Her surprise at seeing me has faded, but there’s still something a little wild and desperate in her eyes.
It’s an expression I’ve learned well over the past week from seeing it in my own mirror.
“Please,” I say quietly. “I have things I need to say to you.”
She steps to the side so I can come in, shutting the door behind me.
I look her over more closely now, noticing the purse in her hand. “You were headed out.”
She nods and doesn’t meet my eyes, and for a heart-stopping moment, I wonder if she was headed out on a date.
Not so long ago, the thought would have made me run for the hills, wanting to bury my head in the sand before the bulk of the pain hit me.
Now it only makes me want to fight. Fight for what’s mine.
“I signed up for some classes,” I blurt out.
She frowns a little. “Okay. What kind of classes. Like, how not to be an asshole?”
I laugh, because it’s such a Lucy thing to say.
“Wine classes. Winemaking, wine marketing, wine t
asting. Whatever fit into my work schedule.”
She goes a little still. “Thought you hated all that. Thought the only way to learn was eating the dirt, or whatever.”
I smile. “Hands-on is still important. The most important, I’d say. But I’ve…I’ve been thinking about what you said. Thinking about what I want out of my life, and I don’t just want to be the guy drifting through the days from paycheck to paycheck.”
“Okay.” She sets her purse carefully on the floor and crosses her arms. “And what do you want?”
I take a step toward her, gaining courage now. Not because I’m not terrified of the power her one-woman army has over my heart, but because I know the answer to her question with absolute certainty.
I’m tired of being the man who runs. Tired of being that guy who won’t reach for something worthwhile because I’m scared it’ll disappear.
“I don’t know what my future looks like,” I say, my voice low and clear. “Maybe lead winemaker at one of the big names. Maybe it’s my own winery. Hell, maybe I’ll get struck by lightning and realize I like selling the stuff as much as I like making it. Maybe I’ll start my own tasting room, or invent some type of aging barrel, or…”
Lucy laughs a little, and holds up her hand. “Wow. Big plans there, Sullivan.”
“Endgame,” I blurt out.
Her smile fades. “What?”
I step closer now. Her eyes go wary, but my heart surges with hope that she won’t take a step back. “You asked me what my endgame was.”
“And you’ve figured it out?” she asks.
“Not with the job, no, but I’m getting there. Things are starting to feel…clear.”
“Well,” she says, forcing a smile. “I’m glad. You’re meant for great things, I’ve always known that, even if you didn’t.”
“I know,” I say a little roughly. “But the thing is, the endgame you asked me about…my career goals…they’re important. But they’re not most important.”
“They aren’t?” she whispers as my hands reach for her, settling carefully on her waist. Touching her feels so right my knees nearly buckle, and I gain courage.
“I’ve made some mistakes with my life, Lucy. Most of them with you. I’ve hurt you, I let you leave, I left you, I didn’t come after you, I’ve picked on you, I’ve snapped at you…”
“Quite the résumé.” I can tell she’s trying for levity, but her voice cracks.