Page 94 of While You Were Trending

IT HAPPENED ONE STORMY NIGHT

Ginny

I don’t intentionally avoidDeclan the rest of the week, but I don’t seek him out either.

I tell myself it’s more important to hunt for new clients, but the truth is, I’m scared.

I’m scared of how much I think of him.

I’m scared of how jealous I get when my friends tell stories about him.

I’m mad at myself for overthinking everything and missing most of harvest and the sorting and the fun.

But I don’t have to miss Flow, because Declan drops her off anytime he’s working, which is basically all the time, since we make the call to pick the Riesling and Syrah grapes ahead of the storm.

And then I wonder if he’s leaving Flow with me while he’s working because he knows how much I need an emotional support Flow, or if he’s doing it because his dog’s happy here.

I’m about to crawl out of my skin with all of the jumbled feelings and conflicting thoughts and desires turning me inside out.

With rain looming imminently Friday night, I slip out of the house and head to the tasting room at the front of the property.

It’s a stone building with a high roofline and rustic windows. Inside are three main rooms—a cave-like room for tastings with more stone on the walls and iron light fixtures, a brighter-lit gift shop area with a fading mural of the property on one wall and exposed brick on the others, and a mostly empty storage room in the back. There’s also a basement that we still need to fully sort through, but that’s an after-harvest problem.

I slip in through the storage room door and head toward the former gift shop half of the building. The plan is to renovate in here, building a wall to fully separate the gift shop from the tasting area and installing a hidden door that will lead into an adult gift shop.

We’re still debating what we want to call the winery when we reopen, but we’ve collectively agreed that we’re doing it with our viral moments in mind.

We’re owning it.

Taking charge of the narrative.

As much as we’re comfortable, anyway.

And then we’re taking it a step further.

Between Cricket going viral for flashing her vagina on a livestream and Samantha and Olivia going viral for a mishap with an axe and a ceramic dildo, plus my and Dori’s viral moments being about bad breakups, selling relationship and sexual wellness products instead of the traditional shirts and mugs makes sense.

Plus, the profit margin is amazing on adult products.

If I can’t help with the wine, then the gift shop is where I’ll spend my time, strategizing and sketching out ideas for the layout of the store.

I flip on the lights in the gift shop, take two steps into the space, and I freeze.

The room’s been mostly empty for a while now. Just three empty shelves, four open cases of Cabernet Sauvignon, a box of tie-dye T-shirts, and the check-out counter.

The check-out counter with an envelope on it that wasn’t there before.

A white, bulging, letter-size envelope.

And when I pick it up, I realize it’s full of cash.

I’m goggling at it when I hear someone behind me.

“I didn’t steal it,” I blurt as I spin, the instinct to defend myself ingrained inside me.

Declan and Flow both tilt their heads at me.

“Did you do this?” I demand, the instinct to find someone else to blame and defend myself heavy and irrepressible.