Page 70 of One Wild Wish

Gwen looked ready to launch an attack hug. “Are you for real?” When I nodded, she flung her arms around me and squeezed. “This is the best news! But I thought the school thing was a hard no. What changed?”

She released me, both of us grinning like loons. “A bunch of things, really. The contest reminded me how much I love wine, but the service stuff wasn’t for me. And Jimmy’s been talking a lot about his family vineyard, what it was like being involved. I think not going for it would haunt me. I’d always wonder.”

I didn’t mention my birthday wish, still worried speaking it aloud would thwart my efforts. That my forward momentum was truly a result of that one fateful night. Everything with Jimmy was falling into place. Even my mother was on board with my plans.

After the Mitch and Cora bomb—the revelation bittersweet, knowing my father would never meet his grandchild—I figured returning to school wouldn’t shock her. I explained how long it had taken to figure out my path. That my fear of failing again and delaying my life had held me back. She didn’t cave right away, but she offered her support in the end. I may have pointed out my father was the reason I loved wine—a low blow, which made her cry—but she got behind my plan.

Sometimes a girl had to fight dirty.

“Does this mean you won’t get to dress dead people?” Ainsley asked.

I shuddered. “My mother tried to force the funeral home issue, but she came around. Even offered to pay my tuition, which feels wrong at twenty-seven, but I’m done being stubborn. If she wants to help, I’ll take it.” Which meant she’d hold it over me every time she asked a favor. More Maternal Guilt in her arsenal. Painful, but worth it.

Gwen pointed to the fitting rooms. “Go change. I’m buying your outfit as a congratulations you’re moving on with your life gift.”

Ainsley clapped. “I’m buying the shoes and necklace. Jimmy will die when he sees you in that. And Rachel,” she called as I turned, “that pierced conversation isn’t over.”

“Yeah,” Gwen chimed in, “I have questions. We can have a whole sex ed night. You’ll use your dildo to show us exactly how his jewelry affects your pleasure.”

Damn them and their needling selves. But the thought of Jimmy seeing me in this mini-skirt put a bounce in my step. I hadn’t told him about my school plans yet. As much as he’d pushed me to consider viticulture, the choice needed to be mine. No outside influence. I had to make sure it was what I wanted this time.

The second I decided, though, I knew. I’d also bet my father was smiling down on me, pleased I’d taken the risk.

Suddenly I was desperate to share my news with Jimmy, and finally tell him I loved him. I’d been waiting, thinking we’d celebrate after tonight’s final contest round. He and the Schnozinator would be serving top wine critics, both vying for the coveted sommelier position. Jimmy was sure to win, and I wanted the moment I shared those three words to be special, but I knew better than to delay important milestones. Losing my father had taught me that. The where or when or how of spilling my heart to Jimmy didn’t matter.

Living without regrets mattered.

I had to drop by the gym to pick up my paycheck, then I’d run to his apartment and catch him before the contest. Tell him I was going back to school and that I loved him so much it turned me inside out. I’d give him the best good luck kiss in the history of good luck kisses. Maybe we’d have a quickie, too. My smile nearly split my face.

* * *

I reached the gym at four. Normally George and I would be on our treadmills by now, walking in time, him asking me about my “boy.” I hated skipping our forty minutes together, time I’d grown fond of, but shopping with the girls and seeing Jimmy took priority. What I didn’t expect was to hurry through the doors and practically walk into 911 himself.

I cringed, guilty for having ditched him. “Sorry I missed our workout. I hope you weren’t waiting for me.”

Instead of offering a signature gruff response, he touched the woman beside him. Her figure was slight next to his bulk. She turned and studied me, critical at first, a warm smile following. “Rachel?”

This woman was much younger than George. Thick black hair spilled over her shoulders, a turquoise pantsuit accentuating her trim frame. Something in her full lips tugged at me, the slope of her cheekbones and dimple in her chin subtle in their familiarity. She reminded me of a celebrity, maybe. Catherine Zeta Jones? Either way, she was gorgeous.

I smiled. “Yep, I’m Rachel. And you are?”

Her gold necklace rose as she inhaled. “I’m Alena—George’s wife and”—her arms shook slightly—“Jimmy’s mother.”

“Jimmy’s…my Jimmy’s mother?” My hand shot to my mouth, and I stepped back, my gaze flitting between this stunning woman and the old man I thought I knew. George. 911. The grumpy father figure I’d confided in. The man who’d asked me questions about my boyfriend, never letting on who he was, stealing information about his son. A violent storm set sail in my stomach. “I don’t understand.”

“Jimmy is my son,” George confirmed, and my mind reeled.

Was there a hidden camera? Was I being punked? Maybe I’d slipped in those stilettos at the store, had hit my head, and was in a coma, the swelling in my brain causing hallucinations. I bit my cheek, tasting blood. Not a coma.

Somehow I found my voice. “You lied to me.” And he was so old to be Jimmy’s father.

“I did no such thing,” George said, his snarkiness ever present. “If you had asked, I’d have told you.”

“Excuse me?” The harshness of my tone had his watery eyes widening. “You said you only had one son.”

His face hardened. “Family matters are complicated.”

“Complicated?” My volume rose, but I didn’t abate. This was the man who’d torn Jimmy down and ruined his life. A man who’d abused my trust. “We’ve spent hours together and you never, not once, mentioned who you were. But you had no problem asking me about my ‘boy.’ So you could what? Spy on him? On us?” My voice dropped, disappointment and sadness seeping through me. “I’d hoped Jimmy was wrong, that he could mend things with his family. Looks like I was being naïve.”