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"I'm part of a club here," Dad said, his chest puffing out a bit with pride. "Maybe we could hit the links tomorrow?"
Austin grinned. "Sounds like a plan."
While Dad and Austin drifted into a deep conversation about golf techniques and favorite courses, Mom pulled me aside, concern evident in her gaze. "Paisley… are you happy?"
I smiled softly, squeezing her hand. "Happier than I've ever been, Mom."
She sighed with relief. "That's all I wanted to hear."
Turning back to Austin, she said, "Tell me about your vineyard. It sounds so fascinating."
Austin beamed. "It's my pride and joy. My family has owned it for generations, and I took over after my father passed. We produce mainly reds — cabernet sauvignon, merlot, and a bit of syrah."
Mom's eyes twinkled with interest. "I've always wanted to visit a vineyard. The whole process from grape to bottle is so intriguing."
"It is," Austin agreed, his voice filled with passion. "There's something magical about watching the transformation. It's hard work, but it's worth it. Every bottle we produce has a story, a legacy."
As dinner progressed, the atmosphere grew more relaxed and jovial. Stories were exchanged, laughter echoed, and I could sense the bond forming between Austin and my parents.
At one point, after my dad had regaled us with a particularly hilarious golf mishap, Austin leaned over to me, his voice low. "Your family's incredible, Paisley."
I smiled. "They are. And I can tell they're really warming up to you."
He chuckled. "Your dad's practically planning our golf tour for the next decade."
"And Mom?" I teased. "Already plotting to get some exclusive wine for her book club?"
Austin laughed. "Caught that, did you? She's quite persuasive."
As the evening wore on, the wine flowed freely, loosening tongues and dissolving any lingering awkwardness. By dessert, a rich tiramisu that had Austin practically moaning with pleasure, it felt like he had been a part of our family for years.
Mom and Dad recounted tales of my childhood, much to my embarrassment and Austin's delight. And Austin, in turn, shared stories of his travels and adventures, captivating us all with his natural storytelling flair.
When it was time to leave, Mom hugged Austin tightly. "You're welcome here anytime," she whispered.
Dad clapped him on the back, his approval evident. "Don't be a stranger."
As we made our way to the car, the weight of the day's events began to hit me. Emotions swirled within — happiness, relief, love. I turned to Austin, my voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for today."
He pulled me close, his voice soft and sincere. "Thank you for letting me be a part of it."
34
AUSTIN
The light of early morning filtered through the curtains, dancing softly over the room. I awoke, stretching out and feeling the warmth of Paisley beside me. Her hair fanned out on the pillow, lips slightly parted.
"Morning," I murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
She stirred, leaning into my touch. "Morning," she replied, her voice raspy with sleep.
The weight of what she was about to do hung heavy between us. She needed to face Benjamin, clear the air, and find some closure. She reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen for a moment before dialing.
"Ben?" she began, her voice clear and firm. "It's Paisley."
From where I lay, I couldn't hear Benjamin's response, but the tension in Paisley's shoulders spoke volumes.
"I'm in town," she continued. "We need to talk. In person."
