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“My brother had vowed to make it in life without them. He took his inheritance and invested it. But I think she knew I held the keys to our family vineyard, not her. So she pitted the successes of my brother against me.” Saying it out loud seems so juvenile. I mean, why couldn’t I have simply ignored her and walked away?

“My grandfather would eventually leave it to me. What’s left of it anyway. My parents bled every red cent they could out of it. She’d be thrilled if they could sell the land to a developer. She could cash out the last remaining funds left in my grandfather’s trust. I’ve been fighting tooth and nail to prevent it from happening, but my life seems to be a series of landmines blowing up in my face.” I push my shaky fingers through my hair. “Sure, many are of my own making, but her repeated toxic words have done a real number on me. I was a disappointment. The son who wasn’t smart enough or successful enough to matter. And I took those words, built a prison out of them, and locked myself inside. Not caring how my actions affected my future. Because I didn’t expect to have one worthy of anything anyway.”

Dr. Miller nods slowly, making a brief mark on his pad. “How did that prison affect your choices?”

“It ruined everything,” I blurt, my throat tightening. “I pushed away everyone who mattered. My brother, out of jealousy and spite. The only woman I’ve ever loved because I convinced myself she deserved more. I made the mistake of sleeping with someone when I was in the throes of bitter rage. And now…”

My voice cracks. I swallow hard, wiping a palm over my face. “Now I find out I have a twenty-year-old son I never knew existed.” The weight of the confession hits me like a physical blow. “A kid who grew up without a father because I was too angry to consider my actions had consequences.”

He continues to just stare wordlessly at me. How does this guy get paid for this? I’m the only one doing the talking here. Is he playing off of his resemblance to Matthew McConaughey? I mean, do people sit here so distracted by the way he looks they leave dazed and confused?

I decide to push through and get this over with. I’ll have to look into a different therapist once I leave here. This already feels it is getting me nowhere. Well, besides getting it all out there, anyway. “I let my mother’s poison contribute to two decades of regret. And the worst part is, my son and the woman I love are the ones paying the price for it. Well, them and anyone who is counting on me to turn the vineyard around.”

Dr. Miller leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression empathetic but focused. “Regret is a comfortable place to hide, Sam. It lets you stay angry at yourself so you don’t have to do the hard work of rebuilding. You can’t rewrite the last twenty years. But what are you doing with today?”

“I’m trying,” I splutter, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Gavin doesn’t want a dad. He seems to be fine if I’m a friend. I’m trying not to take that personally. I’m not sure I’d want me for a dad either. And Alexis is still standing by me, even after all the hell I put her through. Things are strained with my brother. But that discussion is for another day.” I wring my sweaty hands in my lap. “Every time I look at them, I feel this overwhelming guilt. For everything I put them through. And probably fear that it will keep happening. My letting them down.”

He again looks at me as if there’s more to the story.

“This feels ridiculous, dumping this on you. It’s not like I was physically abused. I’m not placing the blame for my actions anywhere but right here.” I thumb myself in the chest. “But as much as I’ve tried to better myself over the last eight to nine months, it feels like a losing battle.”

“You were a kid who was emotionally abused by a parent who wanted to control you,” Gil says firmly. “Recognizing that isn’t making an excuse. It’s understanding the damage it’s caused so you can fix the problem. You survived your mother’s poison. Now you have to decide if you’re going to keep drinking it.”

My eyes flick up to meet his. Silence fills the office. His words settle into my chest. He’s right. I need to find a way to correct my view on life.

Of myself.

“You are not your past, Sam. It’s possible to create the future you want.” He nods affirmatively, and I instinctively nod back.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, the air in my lungs doesn’t feel quite as thin. The coat of regret is still heavy on my shoulders, but sitting in this chair, admitting the truth out loud to another person is freeing. It’s as if I’m unbuttoning the first button of a shirt that’s too tight.

“This is going to take a long time, isn’t it?” I ask, letting out a long, ragged exhale.

Dr. Miller offers a small, quiet nod. “It can. But you showed up today, Sam. That’s step one.”

He stands, coming closer with his hand extended for a shake, signaling our time is over. Heck, maybe he’s not so bad after all. It was a cheap shot thinking he could be utilizing his doppelgänger situation to keep clients coming in the door. “If you can fit it into your schedule, I’m willing to see you weekly for a while. Until you feel you’re headed in the right direction. Then we can cut back as needed.” He gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he escorts me to the door.

“Thank you, Dr. Miller. I appreciate that. I need to devote as much time to fixing myself as I am to Sutter Creek. And I’m feeling optimistic now.”

“Good. You did the hard part.”

I lift a questioning brow.

“You made the call.”

Yeah, thank Mel Robbins. I consider how I’ve been trying to use her 5-4-3-2-1 system to force myself to do what feels uncomfortable. And I’ll continue to do whatever it takes to become the man I’d wanted to be when I was dreaming of my future by Pop’s side. Back when I pictured spending my days next to my best friend. Before I ruined everything. And the cherry on top would be the ability to show my son it’s never too late to do the right thing. To step up and be the man I should’ve been years ago.

“I’ll see you in a week. Keep turning your redlights into greenlights.” He winks.

My mouth falls open. I turn to look at him, but he’s already shut the door.

Chapter Forty

Lexi

I push open the front door to our home, the quiet stillness of the entryway settling over me. The house is dim, save for the single overhead light shining down on the kitchen island. As I set my bag down on the counter, my heart skips a beat.

Sitting in the center of the granite counter is a jar filled with a fresh, vibrant bouquet of wildflowers. There are bright yellow buttercups, delicate lavender, and clover. Tucked right beneath the glass is a folded piece of paper written in Sam’s familiar scrawl.