He took his hands off the bar and stood straight, so tall and fierce for a languid boy. “When I say what I’m about to say, I don’t expect anything in return. Know that. I don’t think you owe me because of what happened ten years ago or what’s happened this month or because you’re glad I’m alive. I’m not going to demand anything from you.”
He swallowed and clenched his fists. It made her flutter, silly, like a girl, that golden-boy-rock-star Aish Salinger was nervous over her.
“I love you, Sofia. I’ve always loved you. I’ll always love you. There is nothing I need more than you, no song or friend or tour, and if...if it’s too far gone and I’ve hurt you too much and waited too long for you to love me back then I’ll accept whatever you’re willing to give me, even if it’s just...friends or, coming back here to help with harvest or...”
She reached for his clenched fist and gently pulled it into her lap. “Won’t your uncle miss you at harvest?”
He moved closer, a flash of hope on his face. “He’ll understand,” he said. “He was tired of me raving about how brave and brilliant you are when I was being such a coward.”
That made her lower her head, stare at his hand. “Brave and brilliant?”
He tucked her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. “The bravest. The most brilliant.”
She turned his hand over and unsnapped his cuff. “I would have said needy and desperate. I thought I was weak.” She folded up his cuff, ran her thumb over the thick blue veins of his wrist. “I thought my desire to be... How did you put it? Essential? I thought my need to be essential led me to make bad decisions.” She began rolling up his sleeve. “But I tried 284 chemical compositions to eliminate cork taint until I found the right one. I built a winery and enacted a wild and successful plan to save my kingdom.”
With his sleeve folded up to his elbow, she turned his forearm back over and slowly traced the compass there, the needle pointing to his heart. “And I found you. You were a needle in a haystack and I found you.”
His free hand was tender as it stroked over her jaw. It was gentle, undemanding, as it tilted up her chin.
“My need makes me brave,” she said as she looked into his sparkling eyes. “It makes me attempt the impossible.”
“Like loving me again?” he asked. “¿Es eso lo imposible?”
Is that the impossible?
This man, this gorgeous man with a Midas touch, looked like he would give her whatever she wanted. But he had to know the truth before he made any promises.
“I can’t have children, Aish,” she said, looking into his eyes for the impact. “I can’t have your children.”
His eyes went wide like she’d slapped him, and both hands came up to surround her face. “Jesus fuck, I was just hoping you’d let me sleep at the end of your bed. I wasn’t even praying for...family. Fuck, Sofia.” He gripped her hair. “Family. We can be the favorite aunt and uncle or we can adopt but...family, Sofia. I just want you to be my family.”
She put her hand on his chest, over his heart, over the star that flamed there. “If I hadn’t miscarried, if we had stayed together, I still would have gotten an abortion.”
He nodded. “Yeah, and I would have driven you to the clinic and taken care of you afterwards. Sweetheart, I’m not going to romanticize what could have been.”
She smiled. He got her. He saw her. “Okay,” she said. “I just don’t want it to be confusing when not being able to have children aches sometimes.”
“Let me share it with you, baby,” he said. “All this success and happiness in my life, it’s not meant shit without you to share it with. Let me share your sadness, too. I love you.”
As the cellar door above them opened and feet rang on the stairs, as she quickly kissed Aish but pulled away from his hold and jumped off the bar, she didn’t miss the disappointment on his face that she didn’t say it back. She shook out her dress and casually mentioned that he should roll up his other sleeve, let his tattoos shine, as Namrita, wine blogger Amelia Hill, and a crew of camera, lighting, and sound technicians came down the stairs.
“Sofia?” Amelia asked in wonder as Sofia walked toward her, kissed her on the cheeks. Namrita directed the camera and sound people to set up at the bar with the barrels aging Bodega Sofia wines as backdrop.
Sofia led the woman toward Aish. “You had every right to be skeptical when you arrived here, Amelia, and you pushed me to do better.” When they met Aish by the bar, he too looked at her with curiosity. “We’re all a little tired of the spectacle of #Aishia. You’re the best person to tell the real story of Sofia and Aish.”
“This is the press conference?” Aish asked.
Sofia smiled. “If Amelia doesn’t mind...”
The wine blogger had to shake her head to free herself from shock. “I...you want to hand me the story of the year? No, no, I don’t mind at all.”
Ten minutes later, the lights were set up, Aish and Sofia were seated together on matching bar stools while Amelia faced them, and a technician was counting down with her fingers three...two...one...
Amelia spoke into the camera, introducing herself, the name of her popular wine blog that was about to go very viral, and then introduced Sofia and Aish. The feed, whose web address had been announced five minutes earlier, was going live worldwide.
Amelia’s first questions were about the kidnapping, and Aish and Sofia spoke candidly about what had happened, about the interference of John and the Consejo in the winery launch, and about what charges had already been brought against the responsible parties.
“I understand the Consejo has decided to dismiss the
