Page 23 of Let It Breathe (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #1)

“Good point.” Larissa shrugged. “Okay, so Bob is out. Really, you can’t rely on your ex-husband to set you up with a quality man. I have a good feeling about this vet guy, though.”

“You’ve never met him.”

“No, but he came to rescue Leon, didn’t he? Must be a nice guy.”

“He’s a recovering drunk.” The second the words left her mouth, Reese felt a rush of shame. Still, it was something she couldn’t overlook. “I mean, I assume he’s an alcoholic. Clay found him through AA.”

Larissa stared, her smile fading into something a bit darker. She folded her arms over her chest. “Since when did you get to be a judgmental snob about that?”

Reese reached for her letter opener, then stopped. She pressed her palms against the desk, weighing her words. “Look, I just think it would be irresponsible for someone who makes a living hawking alcohol to get involved with someone who nearly ruined his own life drinking it.”

“We still talking about the vet here?”

Reese looked down at her hands. “I need to get out in the field to check the nitrate levels. You okay with coming over around five?”

“Sure,” Larissa said, standing up and striding toward the door. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you failed to answer that question.”

Reese sighed but couldn’t think of a clever comeback before Larissa had disappeared down the hall. She finished editing the newsletter and printed a copy while she dialed her mom’s phone.

“Hey, honey,” June answered in a chirpy voice. “What’s up?”

“Larissa and I just finished up the e-newsletter. She also put together a little direct-mail piece for the wine club to explain the whole wine-down-the-drain thing.”

“Did we lose any more members?”

Reese looked at the spreadsheet on her laptop and tried not to feel grim. “Three more today. They were all really pissed about the Pinot.”

“Well, these things happen.”

Her voice was upbeat, but Reese could hear the tension.

They were all worried—about money, about the vineyard’s reputation, about the event coming up next week.

She sighed and forced herself to adopt a business-as-usual tone.

“Do you want to see the newsletter and the direct-mail piece before they go out?”

“You know I trust you, sweetie.”

“I know you do,” Reese said. “You still want to see it, though, right?”

“If it’s not too much trouble. Could you print it? You know how I prefer?—”

“Already done.”

“Thanks, honey. We’re down at your grandfather’s old house right now doing some cleaning. Could you bring it over here?”

“I’ll be there in five.”

Reese hung up the phone and shoved the papers in a file. She closed her office door and passed Eric as she made her way past the stacks of barrels in the winery. “I’m heading out,” she called. “Can you lock up when you leave?”

“No sweat. So you’ve got a hot date?”

Reese rolled her eyes. “Are there families where relatives don’t inform ex-husbands about every detail of the ex-wife’s love life? Because if there are, I’d like to join one.”

“I think it’s great,” he said as he clapped her on the shoulder. “It’s about time you got out of your rut and got serious about dating again.”

“Have you always sounded like a self-help book or is this a new thing?”

“You know you love me.”

“Not especially, but that didn’t stop me from marrying you.” She grinned to show she was teasing but stopped grinning when Eric regarded her with a serious expression.

“It’s not just about love, you know.”

Reese stopped walking. “What isn’t?”

“Marriage.”

She snorted. “Since I don’t ever plan to do that again, I don’t see why it matters.”

“I’m just saying. Relationships are a lot of work. Look at me and Sheila. Not a day goes by that we don’t work at it.”

“Please don’t feel you need to share the details of how you work at it.”

Eric laughed. “Have a good date, Riesling.”

“Piss off,” she replied without venom. She headed out the door and down the hill toward Axl’s old place.

The front door stood wide open, and Reese could hear voices near the back of the house. The smell of popcorn drifted from the kitchen, and Reese hesitated in the doorway.

“Mom? Dad?”

“We’re back here, honey! You’ll never guess what we found in a box in Grandpa’s old linen closet.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” she muttered, moving through the entryway past a long row of photographs.

There were several shots of Axl as a young man working at a vineyard in Italy, followed by one of her grandparents on their honeymoon in Mexico sporting matching tattoos.

She kept walking, her gaze drifting past images of Larissa’s parents in Bali and some shots of June as a young girl.

Toward the end of the hall her mom had grouped another set of images, these more recent—one of her parents on a beach in Maui, arms wrapped around each other as the sun set over the ocean; another of her mom perched on her dad’s shoulders plucking apples from the orchard; another shot showed June and Jed beaming at each other as they twirled jump ropes in double-Dutch fashion while Larissa and Reese spun in giddy circles between them.

Reese ran a finger over the frames, wondering what it would be like to collect a lifetime of memories with the person you knew with absolute certainty had been put on the Earth just for you.

“We’re in the family room, honey,” her mom called, and Reese tore her gaze off the photos.

She moved toward the back of the house where the scent of fresh popcorn and citrus furniture polish was heavy in the air.

Stumbling over something in the hall, she looked down to see her old tricycle there.

She toed the front wheel, remembering her parents walking hand in hand behind her as she pedaled as fast as her chubby legs could go trying to keep up with Axl on his motorcycle.

She stepped around the trike and halted in the doorway to the family room. Her parents were curled up on Axl’s old sofa, a shared blanket and a bowl of popcorn between them. The flicker of the TV drew her attention to a grainy video that was all too familiar.

“Look, sweetie,” her mom said, smiling up at her from the couch. “It’s our wedding video. Have you seen this since we had the old film reels digitized?”

Reese leaned against the doorframe and smiled back. “Only about two hundred times, but I think it’s been a few months.”

“Smart aleck,” her mom replied, tossing a piece of popcorn at her. “Want some of this?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Reese held out the folder she’d brought with her, and her mom reached out to take it. “We’ve got a printout of the e-newsletter, a direct-mail postcard, and a second press release about the Memorial Day event.”

June flipped open the cover of the folder and whistled low between her teeth. “Wow, this looks nice. I like the font you used here.”

“That’s all Larissa. Did she tell you she’s been cold-calling women’s wine groups around the country, encouraging them to pre-book girls’ getaways for next year?”

“That’s exciting,” June said. “Any takers?”

“A few. Larissa offered discounts for anyone who booked a year in advance.” Dread churned in her stomach. “We just need to make sure our lodging gets done in time.”

“It’ll happen, honey. Have faith.” June went back to reading the newsletter, so Reese let her gaze drift to her dad.

He sat riveted to the television, smiling like he hadn’t seen this wedding video a million times, so Reese turned her attention back to the screen. She watched as her youthful father lifted her mom’s veil and kissed her with an intensity that made Reese want to look away.

She didn’t, though. She might have seen this a million times, but she could never stop staring, or stop wondering about a union with such absolute certainty, such devotion, such love.

“My favorite part is coming up,” her father said.

Reese bit her lip, disgusted with herself for feeling envious of her own parents. “You mean the part where Axl uses the unity candle to light farts at the reception?”

Her dad laughed. “No, that’s not for a few more minutes. It’s the part where your mom sees the inscription on her wedding band for the first time.”

Reese nodded, picturing the words in her mind and remembering the way she used to trace her finger over them as a little girl.

I call dibs.

Her parents’ private joke. On their very first date, June had called dibs on the cherry on Jed’s banana split. Jed had spooned up the cherry, offering it in exchange for dibs on June’s evening plans the next night. And the night after that.

They’d laid claim to each other again and again, drifting into the blissful ease of knowing they belonged to one another. With each shared breath, they radiated it. I am yours and you are mine for as long as we both live.

Reese watched the screen as her young mother’s gaze swept over her ring, then filled with tears. As Reese looked on, newlywed June looked up at her new husband with an adoration that took Reese’s breath away.

They make it look so easy, she thought as she gripped the back of the sofa. Then and now.

Her mom patted her hand, and Reese looked down to see June watching the screen, her finger resting on the newsletter to hold her place. “Aren’t you a handsome thing!” June exclaimed, moving her hand from the page to squeeze her husband’s knee. “Honey, isn’t your father a handsome thing?”

“My father is a handsome thing,” Reese parroted, earning herself a good-natured swat from her mom. She kept her gaze on the TV, watching as the scene shifted to the reception and to her father dropping to one knee and hitching up the hem of her mom’s wedding dress.

“I still have that garter in my cedar chest somewhere,” June mused. “The guy who caught it gave it back to me after the reception. Said he felt awkward about having it.”

Reese snorted. “What could possibly be awkward about pocketing the undergarments of another man’s new wife?”

“Oh, stop,” June said, laughing. “You never were very sentimental.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m divorced, huh?” Reese said, struggling to keep her tone light. “I never got schmoopy over garters.”

“Honey—”