Worth More Than Money (Worth It 3)

“Is something wrong with the system?” I asked.

“I told him a technician would be out there this afternoon to check on everything, just to make sure. But this happens sometimes. And since we’ll be a little behind schedule, that means Andy will have some free time to take a class I enrolled him in.”

“A class? What class?”

“He’s expressed interest in becoming a sommelier. And this gives me a unique opportunity to groom one from scratch and teach someone specifically in the way I run things.”

“You think it’s smart for someone like Andy to be around wine like that all the time?” I asked.

He kissed me on the cheek before he helped me switch Anton to my other breast.

“He’s come a long way in a year. He completed his rehab program and is going to regular meetings. He’s keeping up with his sponsor and he’s even a sponsor to someone else. He’s been working among the massive vats of wine for the past few months without one single issue, so I figured we could step him into it easily. Just one class that takes place over the course of a weekend. And if he doesn’t like it or can’t handle it, I can write it off as a business expense and he can go back to what he’s doing.”

“It’s incredible, what you’ve done for him,” I said.

“He deserves it. He worked hard to get sober and he’s committed to staying that way. I can relate. I’m committed to being a better father and husband. It’s why I’ve kept those therapy appointments.”

“And I’m committed to you,” I said.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

I turned my lips to encompass his as the sun warmed our bodies. His arms wrapped tightly around me cradling mine, supporting our son as he drank from my body. His lips trailed down my neck, causing me to giggle as we stood there watching the sun sink beyond the horizon. Another year of harvesting and another year of vintages. And yet, so much had changed. Grayson was repairing his relationships in Stillsville, and I was repairing things with my family. Nick came out to visit often and I knew he would quickly become the cool, funny uncle our son would rely on when he got into his rebellious teenage years. I closed my eyes as Gray pressed a kiss against my neck, then let out a contented sigh as Anton unlatched from my bosom

“Here, I’ll burp him,” Gray said.

“Then I’ll go get his bath ready.”

I handed Anton off to his father and walked back into our bedroom. But before I headed into the bathroom, I chanced a look back. The last of the sun shone upon the two men in my life, and the shadowed impression of Gray bouncing with his son against his shoulder was forever seared into my memory. His hand patted Anton’s back lightly as he sang to his son a tune I’d quickly come to memorize. I stood there, watching the father of my child and the love of my life break the cycle of abuse that had been bestowed upon him.

Then, the soothing words of Gray’s lullaby filled our bedroom.

“Son of mine, don’t you cry. Son of mine, dry those eyes. Lay your head on my heart. Son of mine, never to part. Son of mine, when you play, do not listen to what they say. I promise your eyes will sparkle and shine, and never hold a tear, son of mine.”

And after I watched my husband dip his lips to the back of our son’s head, I made my way into the bathroom. I filled Anton’s little baby tub with warm water and a few soapy suds, listening as Gray sang that song to him over and over again. My life couldn’t have become any more perfect. My heart couldn’t have become any fuller.

Everything had been worth it. Every tear, every argument, every heartbreak, and every doubt. Forever our story, until our days came to an end.

THE END