She continues, reading my face. “Don’t worry, it’s not a wine tasting. Well, it is, but they’re already there, I think. I told them we’d meet them at the winery’s restaurant for lunch. It’s not far, and I heard it’s good food. Farm to table and all that.”
I groan and eye the alarm clock. It’s eleven o’clock. I can’t believe I even slept in that long. Usually I’m up at seven and raring to go.
She holds my hand and gives it a squeeze. “After lunch, I’m all yours. They all know. They don’t want to take you away from me.”
I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “They sound like good friends.”
“They know you make me happy.”
Her words are a fist to the gut, and they nearly leave me breathless.
I make you happy? I want to ask her, but I can’t. I don’t. I swallow her words down and pretend that they aren’t affecting me like a goddamn shot of vodka.
“Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll get ready.”
It’s not long before I’m dressed, Emily’s been fed and walked again, and Kayla and I are in her car driving to the winery. I have to admit, the day is absolutely brilliant, and the fresh country air is doing wonders to clear my head. I think the smog of San Francisco has started to clutter it up a little too much, and for a moment, my heart pangs for Edinburgh, with its quiet lanes and stone buildings and the slower pace of life.
I look over at Kayla as she drives, my hand at the back of her neck, my thumb rubbing against her skin. I could sit here for hours, as long as I can keep touching her. I wonder briefly, so briefly, just a flash, what she would think of Edinburgh if she could see it. Would she like Scotland? Would she see the country, the city that I see? Would she understand why its home?
But such thoughts are futile. They get pushed down into a locked box, and I stare out the window, watching sparrows dance in the blue sky and the endless curve of vineyards that stretch over the hills.
Soon we arrive at a winery composed of hay, rustic fences, and sprawling barns. One of the barns holds the restaurant, and we find my cousins and their women already sitting down, toasting each other with wine to something.
It makes me hold onto Kayla tighter. The four of them seem so tight-knit that I can’t imagine Kayla with them after I leave. Will she sit there, just happy to be on her own, happy for her friends, but forever the fifth wheel? Will she have someone else by her side, some other guy? One that she’s fucking, one that she maybe loves?
The thought of that nearly makes me sick. I have to stop, mid-stride, and throw my shoulders back to take in a deep breath.
“You okay?” Kayla asks, and I quickly nod, glad that no one else saw that.
“Just in time,” Bram says from the table, lifting his glass. “We were toasting to hangovers.”
“That seems about right,” I say, forcing brevity into my voice. I sit down and give them all a tight smile. My glass is filled with wine, but there’s also one with water, so I raise that. “Here’s to feeling like the dog’s bollocks,” I say.
“Here, here,” they all say. We all tap glasses, and I noticed that Bram is getting that sentimental look in his eyes that I don’t think anyone else ever notices except for me. I give him a sharp nod, not wanting to go down the schmaltzy road, then clink my glass with Kayla’s, who is also toasting with water.
I look deep in her eyes, the light in the barn bringing out the different shades of mahogany and teak. “Here’s to you, love,” I say softly, barely audible. “You’re quite the hangover cure.”
The corner of her mouth lifts in a soft smile and I impulsively lean over to kiss it.