Page 1 of Love Among Vines
CHAPTER ONE
JADE
“To Ashley!”
Five shot glasses clinked together. Tequila stung Jade Gardner’s throat as it slid down, leaving behind the taste of sweaty gym socks. It had never been her liquor of choice, but it wasn’t her bachelorette party.
She shot a look at the other four girls.
They were sitting in a circle around the coffee table in the den of Ashley’s parents’ summer home.
Even though it was early October, the air conditioning cranked away.
The unseasonably warm weather clung to the hills surrounding Hammondsport, New York, like a second skin.
“So, what are we playing?” she asked when the burn had subsided. If nothing else, the sweaty gym sock juice might help her forget that her life was in shambles.
“Never Have I Ever?” Ashley Moore, bride-to-be and aspiring pediatric oncologist, flashed a mischievous smile. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and there was a small champagne stain on the collar of her shirt.
“Yes,” Kenya Jones said with a point of her manicured finger. A fitness influencer and arguably the most beautiful person Jade had ever seen, Kenya had served as Ashley’s “yes man” for the entirety of the trip.
Penny, Jade’s golden retriever, put a paw on her lap as if to question the decision. In fact, she had expressed her disapproval more than once over the course of the trip.
Maybe she should have listened to the rescue pup.
The wedding wasn’t for another three days, and already this had been the most uncomfortable bachelorette party she’d ever attended. But that was probably because Ashley was marrying Jade’s ex-boyfriend.
“Sounds great.” Jade put up five fingers, then bit the inside of her lip.
She had climbed out Ashley’s bedroom window to play Never Have I Ever on their Midtown fire escape on slow summer evenings in high school.
But that was all before. Before grad school. Before Nate.
“What do you think, Blake?” Kenya said pointedly to another girl, who was staring at her phone and looking bored.
Blake Chan, Ashley’s friend from undergrad at Stanford University and current stick-in-the-mud, had spent the entire trip complaining about the rented party bus and yelling at her assistant on the phone.
She had looked Jade from top to bottom on their first meeting earlier that evening and hadn’t spoken a word directly to her since.
She was either shy, or she had decided that Jade’s denim overalls and overly enthusiastic golden retriever had already irrevocably tarnished the vibe of her Instagram stories for the weekend.
So far, neither an unmatched playlist of 90s summer bops nor two glasses of champagne had loosened her up, but there was always hope.
“Sure.” Blake lifted her hand with as much enthusiasm as someone prepping for a colonoscopy.
“Great idea, Ash,” said maid of honor Camila Bettencourt. A fresh manicure in Ashley’s wedding colors gleamed under the overhead lights. Her brunette hair was smoothed back into a low knot, and a strand of pearls curled around her neck.
A prickle of curiosity welled in Jade. Camila had FedEx’d everyone a calligraphed copy of the official wedding timeline and bachelorette party events, doled out personalized T-shirts like she was an Etsy shop, and led them through an increasingly elaborate series of bachelorette-themed games.
What kind of crazy stories did the extremely type A New York City real estate heiress have under her belt?
Thank god Camila had covered most of the expenses for the trip.
Between the thousand-dollar bridesmaid dress and her two-year hiatus from the art world, Jade was hovering on the precipice of financial ruin.
But there was time to worry about that later.
Her oldest friend was getting married. To Jade’s ex.
What the hell was she doing here?
“Never have I ever…” Ashley’s words derailed those thoughts. “Had a one-night stand.”
Kenya snorted. She, Jade, and Blake drank.
Blake leaned forward to look at Jade. “You don’t strike me as a one-night stand girl.” She almost sounded impressed.
Jade paused. “Well, I didn’t used to be. Now it’s kind of my comfort zone, you know? Can’t get hurt if you keep everyone at a forced distance.” She laughed, but it rang fake in the cathedral ceilinged room.
Oops. The tequila seemed to have unlocked some word vomit.
“Anyway,” Jade said, catching Ashley’s grimace behind her Solo cup. “Never have I ever been to Dubai.”
The game continued, with each claim growing more outrageous.
“Never have I ever given a blowjob under a table in a public restaurant,” Ashley said with a look at Camila.
“How dare you?” Camila’s hand flew to her chest like she had been accused of an egregious crime. She drank.
“Never have I ever…” Camila paused. Her neatly coiffed hair had started to come undone. “Let a man use the back door.”
Kenya and Ashley drank.
“Jade, I’m surprised you haven’t,” Camila slurred. “Back door is like such a thing for Nate.”
Jade jerked back like Camila had slugged her with her Prada purse.
Camila slapped a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly more refined. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“I told you that in confidence,” Ashley said with a panicked look at Jade.
Jade jumped up. “I’m going to get everyone some water. We’ll need to be hydrated for the hike tomorrow.”
Her heart hammered in her chest as she rounded the corner and entered a gargantuan kitchen that looked like it had never been used. The last thing she needed was more details on Ashley and Nate’s sex life. Her fists clenched as she held back the memories that threatened to flood out.
Penny tip-tapped into the kitchen and nosed her hand.
Jade offered her a quick pat and went back to opening cabinets. Where the hell were the stupid water glasses?
Abandoning the search, she wrenched the fridge door open. She paused, hand halfway to a row of bottled water. There on the second shelf was the chocolate milk she had grabbed at a gas station on the outskirts of town. Her heart rate inched up another notch.
This random-ass chocolate milk was touted as the best in the state.
Could this be the solution to two years of crippling painter’s block?
Or would it be another useless attempt on the list of fifty-plus failed solutions?
She had meant to try it before bed when she could focus.
But if this chocolate milk brought her muse back, at least she’d have something to talk about with the unending stream of Nate’s pitying relatives.
She twisted the cap off and took a swig. The creamy liquid flowed over her tongue. It was damn good. But would it be enough?
She yanked her sketchbook out of her purse and closed her eyes, clenching a pencil so tightly in her hand that her fingers hurt. She put the tip to the paper and waited.
Waves of inspiration used to come to her from everywhere and nowhere.
After hearing a beautiful song, or tasting a loaf of freshly baked bread, or even after spotting a couple sharing an umbrella in the rain.
An errant gym sock on a nature trail had once inspired a series of six paintings.
Inspiration was everywhere. So why the hell had it abandoned her so completely?
Nothing had been the same since the incident.
She was a hollow, dried-up husk of her former self.
She had stared at a hundred sunsets, tasted a thousand new and exotic foods, and spent just about every cent she had left looking for an experience that would unlock this crippling block. And nothing had.
“Jade? You good?”
A soft voice startled her. Her eyes flew open to find Kenya looking at her, brows contracted as she leaned against the kitchen island.
“Hey! Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I was just trying something.”
Her face was hot. She wasn’t doing a good job at hiding her emotions.
Laughter rang out from the den. Were they laughing at her?
“You don’t need to explain anything to me. I know an artist’s work is very mysterious…and apparently sometimes involves dairy.” Kenya bent down to pet Penny, who rolled onto her back and exposed her belly.
Jade smiled but couldn’t summon the inspiration for a proper response. She wasn’t really an artist anymore.
“I just wanted to check on you. Overall, I mean,” Kenya added. “I know this is a weird situation.”
She grimaced. “It’s fine. I don’t hold any ill will towards Ashley. She’s one of my oldest friends.”
“Sure. Doesn’t change what she did, though.” Kenya glanced over her shoulder, voice barely more than a whisper.
Jade’s stomach twinged. The chocolate milk sloshed angrily. “I know from experience how easy it is to get caught up in Nate.”
Kenya crossed her arms and stared out the dark window. “You’re a better woman than me. If my best friend stole my boyfriend, I’d never talk to that bitch again.”
Was Kenya digging for dirt? Or maybe this was some weird friendship test? Either way, Jade wasn’t prepared to discuss her messy breakup.
“Yeah. Well. Nate and I just weren’t meant to be. But anyway, let’s not let that distract us from the party atmosphere. We’re all here to celebrate Ashley,” she said with a smile that hopefully looked genuine.
Crack . Their gazes dropped to Jade’s hand. Two halves of a graphite pencil clattered to the island.
Kenya reached over and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled sadly.
Great, everyone pitied her. The wedding would be even worse—she had no date, and she had gone from talented artist and girlfriend of Nathan Astor to washed-up has-been who couldn’t produce anything more artistic than a signature.
This weekend was her last hope. Maybe witnessing her ex getting married would deliver a catharsis that finally unblocked her. If it didn’t, she would be homeless at the end of December.
Jade swept the pieces into a trashcan and grabbed the bottled water. All she had to do was survive the next three days. Then she could get back to figuring out what to do about her dwindling funds.