Page 29 of Bordeaux Bombshell (Sunshine Cellars #3)

His brows furrow, like he’s trying to remember seeing us together. “When? Today?”

I grab the pillow beside me and throw it at him. “No, you idiot. In France. I saw you two together in Bordeaux, looking very cozy.” Pulling the sheet tighter to my chest, I look away, studying the wall while I wait for him to react.

Instead of the aggrieved questions I expected, there’s only silence. I risk a peek and find Nate staring at me, open-mouthed. The pillow I threw is clutched in his hands, his shoulders up around his ears.

“When were you in France?” he manages to say after opening and closing his mouth several times.

“After your dad sold the Ridge and you left. I waited a month, but I couldn’t stand it here.

You were all anyone could talk about, and I was slowly dying inside.

” I keep my focus away from the man who I’m not sure I can ever forgive but can’t stand to let go.

My voice drops lower, my knees drawing up into my chest. “I thought maybe I could convince you to come back. That everything didn’t have to be over. ”

A hand lands on my knee—rough, warm, familiar. But I don’t look up. I can’t.

“Syd. Baby, look at me.”

I shake my head, the movement knocking a few tears loose.

“I don’t know what exactly you saw, but you have to know it didn’t mean anything. Manon and I…” He trails off, and there’s a long pause while I study the veins on the back of his hand.

“It wasn’t serious. And nothing happened until after I thought I was never coming back.” He grips my knee hard, giving it a little jiggle. “I swear, Sydney. I was never…I would never. Fuck.”

Breaking off his measured words with more curses, he thumps the pillow and I glance up to see the anguish on his face.

The second we make eye contact, Nate is on his knees, reaching for me.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Sydney, you were, are, everything to me.

I was so angry, and I was so fucking stupid.

But I swear, it was never more than occasional sex. ”

I let him take my hand, even though my heart is warring with itself inside my chest. Do I believe him? Can I believe him? “I saw you guys together at a café. I was going to surprise you, but I was the one who was shocked. I didn’t even make it to Hermouet before I turned around and left.”

“At a café?” His eyebrows scrunch, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. “That August?”

“You kissed her. I know what I saw, Nate.” The image is burned into my mind.

“I’m not denying it, baby.” Scooching closer, he tugs my legs away from my chest, and I let him. “Do you believe me? That it wasn’t serious. And that it’s been over since the moment Kel called after my dad’s accident.”

“Would Manon agree with you?” I can’t help asking. She’s been rubbing me wrong ever since I saw her name light up his phone screen.

With a defeated sigh, he pulls me away from the headboard until I’m sprawled across his lap. I want comfort as much as I want to know the truth, and even though it’s confusing as hell that Nate is the source of both, letting him hold me right now is the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

“When I first met Manon, it took all of twenty-four hours for her to see that I was madly in love with you. She was still grieving, but she was kind and let me talk about you for hours at a time.” He squeezes me against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “We were friendly. That’s it.”

“When did it change?”

“Probably the day you were there, or just before. I’m not really sure. When I came back, pissed at the world, she took me out for drinks to let me vent. One thing led to another, and…” He drifts off, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air.

I’m tempted to press for more, but as I open my mouth, I realize I don’t actually want to know the details.

I’ve been picking at this wound for years, letting it infect the rest of me with anger and hurt.

Every time it’s started to heal, I’ve pulled the image back up in my mind, stewing over it until the familiar pain pushes away everything else.

So instead, I soothe the hurt, cover it with a bandage and pray it starts to heal while I’m gone. “I suppose I didn’t expect you to be a monk all this time. It’s not like I was.”

He flinches, squeezing me against his chest with the movement, but doesn’t say anything.

“And it’s really over? You promise?” A yawn cracks my jaw, taking me by surprise.

Nate mimics my yawn as he runs a hand over my hair, smoothing my feelings like I’m a puffed-up cat. “Yeah, baby, I promise.”

And even though I know I shouldn’t, that I’m asking too much, I say it anyway. “And you’ll make sure she knows too?”

His chest rumbles as he chuckles before pulling us both back down onto the pillows. “In the morning. After we sleep.” Relaxing my body, I sink into the mattress beside him. Nate’s legs curl up behind mine, his arm wrapped around my middle. Listening to his breath slow down calms my own.

I’m a jumble of feelings as I lie in the dark. Relieved. Sad. Resigned. Resentful. All of it swirls lazily through my mind, mixing with the euphoric oxytocin that’s still flooding my body.

Eventually, I roll him onto his back, laying my head against his chest to listen to the slow thump-thump of his heart. He tightens his grip for a second, then goes limp in the bed. Giving myself permission to enjoy the feeling one last time, just for a minute, I doze off too.

I wake in the dark with a start. It’s two in the morning, according to the alarm clock beside the bed, and Nate has rolled over on his other side. I press a kiss to his shoulder blade before I slide out from under the covers.

It’s been ten years, and I have no idea where he keeps a pen and paper, or if he even does, but I prepared for this.

Taking the card I wrote this afternoon out of my purse, I prop it against the alarm clock, where I know he’ll see it in the morning.

My flight to Boston leaves tomorrow evening, but if I don’t leave now, I never will.