30
MITCHELL
“Trust me. The reveal will be a million times better if there’s a break in streaming.” Laurel slides a manicured finger down the page of her planner and draws an imaginary circle around this week, the last week of July. At an impromptu meeting to discuss how to ramp up live stream viewership before the opening on August 12, she, Bryn, and I had barely sat down at Paraiso’s kitchen island when Laurel launched into her suggestions. She’s on point and no-nonsense, as usual. “An extended cliff-hanger, if you will. Take the rest of this week off, then we’ll stream your last two weeks of prep for the opening. Think of this break as your last vacation before this place blows up. Aren’t you booked for the next three months?”
Bryn raises her eyes to me, hope lingering in them. “Four. Every weekend offered has at least seventy-five percent occupancy.”
“Well, dang. Look at that.” Laurel shifts her gaze to me. “How about you, how’s your reno?”
“Coming along faster in some ways, slower in others. By Paraiso’s opening, we’ll have the tasting room open for private tastings and have vineyard tours set up for the public. But the harvest will have to take priority from late August until October. We’re hoping for a November opening for the entire winery for events.”
“Then it’s settled. And your plans to . . . kind of let things fizzle out? The breakup? You guys have talked about it? We all agree at the website that it’s a great plan. It’ll truly bring in the crowd.”
We both nod, though it’s a lie. We haven’t talked about us breaking up since the beginning, when all of this started. And with the spat between my brother and Bryn, and our tense conversation yesterday, she’s barely speaking to me. Who the hell knows where I stand?
“My suggestion? Make it simple. The least dramatic as possible. The more you put out there, the more these viewers are going to hang on to the drama. You are aware to expect some general backlash over your breakup?”
“Backlash?” Worry floods Bryn’s face.
Laurel answers as if she’s talking about lollipops and bubblegum, like it’s a small treat. “No worries, you two. Trust me when I say all publicity is good publicity. You breaking up will have everyone talking. They’ll wonder why and how. Your desirability factor will shoot through the roof.”
It’s my turn to ask for clarification. “Desirability factor?”
“Curiosity will bring folks to your businesses. Fans, you know?”
But my mind is still stuck on the word desirability, and I’m on the defensive. Fans desiring Bryn? Men wanting Bryn? My body tenses. I didn’t think of the secondary and tertiary effects of the live stream, that nothing ever goes away once it’s been transmitted through the Internet.
“Oh, don’t look so hesitant, you two. It won’t be so bad. The Internet is fickle. You’ll be the talk for a little while, but some other drama with another Internet couple will roll through and take the limelight.” Laurel spins her gold watch around. “Oh crap, look at the time. I’ve got to go.” Laurel stands, sighing. “Aw, I’ve gotten really fond of you guys. I might even say I’m gonna miss you.” She approaches us from behind and puts a hand on my shoulder and her other on Bryn’s, the most affection she’s showed us the last month.
Then her face promptly flips to her normal don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. “Adeline.”
The assistant gathers all of Laurel’s things and trails after her, giving us a haphazard wave before closing the door behind them. Silence descends upon Bryn and me like fog, the chill in her mood palpable.
Throwing my pride aside, I relent. “Okay, Aquino. Tell me what’s up.”
After a pause, she says, “What did you tell Levi about yesterday’s canceled meeting?” Hands clasped on the island countertop, Bryn looks at me as if she and I never spent an intimate moment together. “Tell me the exact words you used.”
“I told him he didn’t have the right to tell you anything that wasn’t confirmed.” Quickly, I add, “He apologized. Levi—he sometimes jumps the gun, and since he’s only here for another week, he thought he would get the conversation going with you. He was wrong.”
Sarcasm bursts from her. “Yeah, he was wrong. But beyond that? What else did you say?”
I shake my head. I feel like a mouse walking into a trap as the words leave my lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well, have a good week off, Mitchell.” She stands abruptly, gathering the papers spread out in front of her into a pile. One by one she flicks light switches off, walks out of the kitchen, and leaves me in darkness. As I hear her climb the stairs, I jump to my feet and head to the bottom of the stairs. She’s already halfway up to the second floor.
I call up, “I don’t understand. What the fuck did I do?”
“Please lock the door behind you.”
Fury builds like a slow-rolling boil. My words are clipped. “Fine. If that’s what you really want. Then I’m fucking out of here.” A week is exactly what I need from this place, this town, from her. My therapy appointments have all been about Bryn, my life consumed with her presence, with this live stream. Being forced together has given me tunnel vision, a skewed reality.
The live stream is not reality.
This, right now, with us pissing each other off, as we did the very first moment we met, is reality. And I’m sick of her attitude, of her unwillingness to bend, of her inability to communicate.
But as I hear the stomps of her footsteps on the stairs, I double-check her bluff. Walking out right now will keep me from having the last say. And I can’t let her win, not this easily.
I can’t leave this unchecked.
“So, that’s it?” I put a foot on the stair. “Is this how it’s going to go down? You’re just going to shut me out? After everything we’ve been to each other . . . one misunderstanding and none of it matters?”
She turns. “What would we be, Mitchell? We’re two people who created a contract. The first, when I moved here, called a lease, and the second, for this live stream deal.”
“And what of everything in between?”
“What in between?” She’s holding the banister, lit by the solitary dim bulb overhead. I know how Bryn is, and this is all a front, but her reaction, intent on downplaying our connection, makes me want to scream. Was it all really just a contract? Up to what point is our relationship a game?
Everything about the woman is ice. Ice behind a glass wall, and it feels like she’s so out of reach.
“You know what I’m talking about,” I plead.
Her gaze flickers, and it’s in that recognition I know there’s something there. It’s enough, a reach into the middle, so I try to pull her in. “My brother’s an asshole, I won’t deny it, but pushing me away doesn’t solve anything. We agreed when we started all this we’d tell the truth. I want it now.”
“Fine.” She steps down two stairs. “The truth is this. You’re not the person I thought you were.”
Her words act like bullets, jolting me, rendering me blind. My hand grabs the banister so I don’t crumble. I’ve heard worse before, from drill sergeants, from my brothers in our rough play on words. But for it to come from Bryn, from her beautiful lips . . .
“Why didn’t you stand up to Levi in the first place? Why didn’t you definitively tell him no when he brought up Paraiso? Because the Mitchell I had something more with would have treated me like we meant something. Where’s the guy who’s so headstrong, who can dish out as much as he takes? Have you seen the amazing things you’ve done here? You brought life to the vineyard. All you have to do is walk through this place for everything to flower. You belong here. This is your legacy, your destiny, too. But somehow, with Levi around, with Levi making the calls, you succumbed to second. All you do is placate him to calm him down. And I’m just so damn disappointed.”
I turn away, having heard enough. The air is sucked from my chest, leaving me with anger. So much of it that bile rises up through my esophagus.
How could she . . . How dare she judge me? Words jackknife out of me, with her as the target. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not exactly who I thought you were either. I thought by now you’d have a heart, that you’d care for more than just yourself. Because there’s more to life than being right or winning. It’s never just black-and-white, you against the world. But I was wrong. No matter how hard I try, how much I bend, how much I show you, it won’t be enough. It’s only you and this dream, and the rest of us are just the help, the things on your to-do list.”
She heaves a breath, and I know I’ve stepped too far. And yet I don’t take my words back, my chest clamping down tight.
“Then I guess we’re agreed. The breakup will be easier than expected. See you next week, Mitchell.” She stomps up the stairs and slams her bedroom door.
This time I don’t have any trouble going to the door and turning the knob. I can’t wait to get the hell out of there.