Page 33 of Bordeaux Bombshell (Sunshine Cellars #3)

Sydney

The words on my screen blur as I type out another description of yet another slightly different variety of pickles.

As much as I want to complain about how boring it is to write the website descriptions of ninety-nine varieties of gourmet gherkins, I won’t.

I’ve lost too many clients to AI lately—finding someone who would rather pay me than use it is a blessing.

But the headache I’ve been ignoring for the last hour as I hunch over my laptop throbs again, forcing me to pause.

With a sigh, I reach my arms up above my head, then stretch my spine.

My fingers brush the broad leaves of the fiddle-leaf fig beside me, reminding me again that I am not in my apartment.

Lauren and Alfie’s place in Boston is huge and full of plants.

So many, they have a woman who comes in twice a week to water and take care of them, and who I was under strict instructions not to bother.

Cláudia’s here so often that I already feel like we’re friends, and it’s only been a couple of weeks.

I was theoretically aware of the scope of their indoor rainforest, but I was not truly prepared for it when I begged Lauren to let me crash at their place while I worked Nate out of my system.

The house is right on the harbor, with gorgeous views out of every window. I keep catching myself standing and staring out of them, watching the waves below as I debate why I’m here and not at home.

I’ve been treading water for so long—too angry to let go of my hurt feelings despite knowing I was the one responsible for my misery.

Figuring out how to change that has occupied every thought I haven’t been able to drown in work.

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to come up with anything except to forgive him for being an immature jerk and move on.

But move on to what? With who?

Pushing back from the masculine desk in the office, I close my laptop as my stomach growls. I can’t actually remember the last thing I ate—maybe a banana this morning?

I’m perusing the choices in the fridge—leftover Thai, leftover Chinese, or leftover pasta—when the distinct beeping of the front door being unlocked catches my ear.

Cláudia doesn’t come on Wednesdays, and she doesn’t come this late.

“Sydney, you little shit! Get your cute butt out here.” Lauren’s voice rings out through the house. There’s some muffled talking before it repeats. “Sydney!”

I freeze, hiding behind the open fridge door and praying that’s not who I think it is. I wanted Lauren to help me hide, not join me.

Footsteps echo through the house, and Alfie’s head appears in the doorway between the kitchen and the entry hall. “She’s in here, love.” He looks back over his shoulder, then thrusts a bottle of wine toward me. “Here. Good luck.”

I take it on instinct but curl my lip. “I don’t drink wine.”

“Yes you do. And she definitely does.” He looks pointedly at the three empty bottles sitting next to the trash can, then smirks. Damn, he’s handsome. And that English accent is so sexy. If I wasn’t terrified of Lauren…

I sigh, knowing I don’t really think that and that he’s right. “Traitor.”

“Listen, you little shit,” Lauren berates before she’s even rounded the corner into the kitchen. Alfie grabs her by the waist when she passes him and swings her into him for a deep, sloppy kiss. Complete with a firm ass grab.

Lauren melts against him, momentarily distracted, before she pushes against his chest and frees her lips to start berating me again.

Releasing her, he looks at her like she’s made of sparkles and fairy dust, even while she’s calling me all kinds of names. And I’m fucking green with envy.

“If I had known you were fucking running away when you asked to come out here, I never would have said yes. That was a dick move, and don’t even think about lying to me.

” Alfie disappears in the direction of the front door, the sound of suitcases rolling on the wood floor following shortly after.

Lauren’s already pulling wineglasses from the cupboard, so I move on to opening the wine bottle.

Thank god it’s a screw top.

“I wasn’t—”

She cuts me off by reaching for the bottle and plucking it out of my hand.

“I heard it from Sophie, who talked to Jackie, who fucking saw the note you left Nate. You just left? After everything with Manon and all the fighting?” She pours a generous amount into one of the three glasses on the counter and takes a large sip.

Red wine sloshes in the glass she points at me, nearly spilling over the edge. “I thought for sure you were at least getting some majorly hot hate sex, and that’s why this was dragging on for so long.”

I’m having trouble following her train of thought, but I absolutely do not want to confess all my sins tonight. “Um, what?”

“Isn’t that why you were so upset at the bridal shower? Because Manon insinuated she’d also slept with your man?” Lauren takes another long sip, staring at me over the rim of her glass.

“Um, I guess that is part of it, but what—”

Alfie returns, taking the third glass off the counter. “You better start at the beginning, Sydney. I’ll be making myself scarce.” He nods, then heads deeper into the house, leaving me alone with the Spanish Inquisition.

“Well?”

I clear my throat and head toward the nearest couch. “Well, what?”

“Start at the beginning. And then explain why you think you have a good reason for leaving in the middle of the night like a fucking coward. And it is never for that person’s own good, so don’t even try that one.” She yells the last few words in the direction Alfie disappeared.

“Still very sorry for what I did. I don’t deserve you!” Alfie’s voice is faint but clear, and Lauren giggles as she sits on the couch opposite me.

The smile on her face disappears the second she looks at me. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she swirls the wine in her glass. The deep red of the pinot noir Alfie handed me glints in the sun shining through the picture window to our left. “Proceed.”

“Um, well. Long story short—yes, I was upset at the bridal shower because I thought Manon’s son was—”

“Eh.” She cuts me off with a sharp noise. “Try again. I don’t want the short version. Tell me the whole story, not just the most recent events.”

The whole story? Shit.

I take a large sip of my pinot, noting the quality in the earthiness I taste instead of just dirt.

“So, you know that Nate and Kel met when I was in preschool? Anyway, what’s important is that those two were joined at the hip, and our moms also became best friends, so from then on, we were out at the Ridge basically all the time.

Not a lot of girls out there for me to play with, so I was always tagging along after them, wanting to join in. ”

“But like typical boys, they didn’t let you, did they?” Lauren adds, sitting back in her overstuffed chair.

“Right.” I take another sip, letting the delicious blend settle my nerves. “It wasn’t until I was about nine or ten that they started letting me join in. Well—” I pause. “Nate started letting me join in. Kel didn’t really care as long as I ‘wasn’t annoying.’”

Lauren’s face softens with a glimmer of understanding. “Oh. Oh, hun.”

There’s a sudden tightness in the back of my throat, but I swallow and nod. “Yeah. So basically, I’ve been in love with Nate since I was too young to even know I was.”

“And he’s been oblivious this whole time?”

More wine eases the tightness in the back of my throat. “No, that’s what makes it worse. I mean, he was oblivious for a long time, because he’s a dumb boy.”

“Obviously.”

That breaks some of the tension inside me, and I laugh. “Right. But what I found out much later was that he was also in love with me. He just had a funny way of showing it.”

“Like how?”

“Stole my first kiss.”

“Stole?”

“Literally chased off the boy I was determined to do it with and kissed me instead.”

Lauren closes her eyes, cheeks puffed like she’s holding her breath.

“Are you okay?”

She lets it out with a loud puff of air. “Trying really hard not to kick my heels and squeal, to be honest.”

“It was not romantic, Lauren. He was a bastard. Kissed the stuffing out of me, made me think I might finally get what I wanted but never dared to ask for, and then literally dropped me on my ass and walked away. He didn’t talk to me for weeks after.

He fucking…I don’t know, imprinted on my hormone-sloshed brain what a kiss is supposed to be like. Literally ruined me for anyone else.”

Lauren smirks, waving away my outrage. “Sure, sure. What got you from secretly pining for each other as kids to ready to tear each other’s throats out now? Although, come to think of it, it’s really you who wants to tear his asshole open. I’ve never seen him be anything but polite to you.”

“Weirdly, we kind of started being friends after that. Kel was so busy with June, and then baby Olive, that he didn’t have a lot of time for Nate.

And even though I had some friends at school, I wasn’t very good at it.

Nate was familiar, and I was in love with him and desperate for whatever scrap of attention he would give me.

We hung out more and more until he left for France.

Which is where he was when Greg sold to Sutton. ” She nods, and I keep going.

“What you don’t know—no one knows, actually—is that the year before Sutton bought the Ridge, we’d finally figured out that all the years spent fighting as kids and teens were really a sadistic kind of flirting.

Fun fact, Nate and I were both born on the Fourth of July and have celebrated our birthdays together for as long as I can remember.

Even when he was studying abroad, he always came home for it. ”