But he’d seemed more committed to his work than ever.
They’d argued about the production schedule, him trying to push for more production, her pleading for the investment they’d needed so badly.
Oh, God. Their argument.
She’d piled on when she should have been trying to lighten his load.
He’d been carrying the burden alone, trying to figure out how to fix things. And the stress of it had killed him.
Oh, Daddy.
She let the tears come. There was no point fighting them. She cried for Liv. She cried for her dad. And out of self-pity, she cried for herself. How on earth could they move forward? She couldn’t lie to Jake and Olivia about a non-existent insurance payout.
She’d have to tell them both.
Perhaps together was better.
It isn’t the end of the business. It isn’t the end of the business. It isn’t the end of the business.
She repeated it over and over.
They had the means to pay back the loan from the sale of the house. It wouldn’t go under. And if she had to sell her house, the business could have whatever equity was left in it. They’d stay afloat, and if Olivia altered her plans slightly, they might have enough for a fourth still. They could make it work.
There were also emails to the brides and grooms whose weddings had been cancelled. Deeply personal emails from her father, begging them to stop, offering them cash. Some of them had been kind in their acceptance. Others had argued and bargained to get more.
The shock left her cold, and she wandered to the bedroom to grab her sweater. A pile of Connor’s laundry sat on a chair, waiting to be put away. There was a hoodie, one he wore to go to the gym. She pulled it on, and it smelled of his laundry detergent.
It smelled of comfort.
The sleeves were too long, so she pushed them over her wrists. Suddenly tired, she sat down on the bed. The month felt as though it were a hundred days long. Tomorrow was Halloween, but the excitement she’d felt for her favorite holiday, second only to Christmas, was gone.
She slipped beneath the covers and closed her eyes, thinking of her father until sleep claimed her.
“Em, sweetheart…are you okay?” Connor’s voice sounded as if it were down a deep well. “Emerson?”
Groggily, she opened her eyes. “What time is it?” she muttered.
“A little after eight. I just got back. Have you been crying? Come here.” Connor pulled her to him, and she put her arms around him. “What happened?”
Emerson told him the whole story. No tears this time because she had none left. When she was done, he looked as shocked as she felt.
“I’m so sorry, Em. For what it’s worth, I have huge respect for your father, trying to do what was best for Olivia.”
“Me too. It didn’t need to kill him, though. And he could have told me.” She looked at Connor. “Why didn’t he tell? Did he not think I would have supported him? Helped him?”
“From what I know about your family, your dad remained your father first and the owner of a company second. He took care of you before he took care of business. He’s the complete opposite of my dad. Believe me, I think I’d have preferred the way your dad did it, Emerson.”
Deep down, she understood what Connor was trying to say, but pain rose to the surface faster than understanding. “If he didn’t think I was ready or able to help him with this, how on earth did he think I was ready to run this distillery? He wants me to be the glue, but I don’t know how. I’m so tired right now.”
Connor pulled her in even tighter, and she realized his skin was damp from his workout. “These are wobbles, Em. You know how to run the distillery, you know how to organize people, products, logistics. You know how to get the best out of people. You know this industry. All of that you know.”
He gripped her chin and tilted her head to look at him. “What you are dealing with right now is a lot. In the last three months, your father passed away, you inherited a business with some baseline issues. You’ve had to deal with probate and changing everything to do with the business into your name. You’ve dealt with wills, his house, your grief. Olivia. Your father’s request to be the glue. It’s no wonder you’re fucking tired.”
Emerson shrugged. “Maybe. As I was falling to sleep, I was wondering if we shouldn’t find someone with more experience…someone who could navigate all this with a little more grace than I seem to be able to.”
Connor shook his head. “No. That’s just exhaustion talking. Dyer’s is yours. But if I can point out one thing, in the spirit of being open with you. You’re doing exactly what your dad did. You are carrying it all alone. Don’t you think Jake and Olivia will feel the same way you do now if you don’t involve them, talk to them? They’re smart, Em. And I know Olivia has had some issues. But I don’t think she’s as fragile as you and Jake currently treat her.”
His words struck her heart. God, she’d been so stupid. She was mad at her father for doing exactly what she was doing.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Emerson said.
“That’s because you aren’t as clever as me,” Connor said with a smile.
“I don’t smell as bad as you, either.”
Connor laughed and nuzzled the side of her neck. “Nothing smells as good as you, Em. Want to shower with me?” He stood and offered her his hand.
“Sure,” she said, letting him lead her into the bathroom, knowing full well he’d take care of her.
“Perhaps when we’re out of the shower you can put this back on,” Connor said, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. “Like,
