The Night Before the Winemaking Contest, Floating Comments Exposed His Plan Chapter 10

The Night Before the Winemaking Contest, Floating Comments Exposed His Plan Chapter 10

Spring came late to Northpine. It always did.

But the day the first new shoots of snowcrest chardonnay pushed through the soil, the whole hillside came

alive with cheering.

The growers crowded at the base of the hill, staring at the pale green vines, some of them blinking hard to

keep it together.

“It survived…”

“Ms. Whitaker, it really survived!”

I stood on the hillside, silent.

I just reached out and ran my fingers over the tender new leaves.

Six years ago, I’d come here with one surviving mother vine.

Everyone said Northpine could never grow a world-class wine grape.

But now, the vines blanketing these hills said otherwise.

No land was destined to stay barren.

No person was destined to survive only by leaning on someone else.

The day snowcrest chardonnay hit the market, the wine world took notice.

The same people who’d laughed at me started sending partnership offers.

Merchants who once wouldn’t set foot on Northpine’s barren hills were lining up to sign contracts.

Six more years passed, and I decided to get married.

The wedding was set for autumn. My fiancé was a man who laughed easily and often.

He’d traveled the country with me, building the wine business side by side.

On the day itself, the vineyard hills were draped in gold.

Guests arrived in waves.

At the edge of the crowd, Wesley stood behind Camille, reaching over to smooth the hair the wind had blown across her face.

He caught my gaze, and his hand stilled.

Then he walked toward me, carrying a wooden box.

“Laurel. This is yours

I opened it Inside was a faded chapel prayer card

And beneath it, an old golden muscadine vine cutting.

Something sharp twisted in my chest. Not longing. Irony.

“Why did you keep these?”

Wesley lowered his head.

“After you left, I was clearing the vineyard. Found them in the ruins.”

His voice was low, but his eyes were glassy.

“I kept telling myself that if I ever saw you again, I’d give them back.”

“After today, you’ll belong to someone else.”

I closed the box.

“The past is the past, Wesley.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“But I can’t.”

I froze.

Six years, and he had never once said it that plainly.

Wesley dropped his head and let out a laugh that sounded like it hurt.

“You want to know something, Laurel?”

“All these years, I convinced myself I’d made peace with it.”

“That you were gone. That you had a new life. That you’d never come back to Briarvale.”

“But every time someone mentioned Laurel Whitaker of Northpine, the same thought hit me.”

He paused

“That should’ve been me standing next to you.”

I lowered my eyes and didn’t answer.

Wind rolled across the vineyard hills, and somewhere behind us, the wedding music started.

Someone touched my arm. It was time.

Wesley stepped back.

He stood there watching me in the sunlight, in my dress, and whatever was moving behind his eyes, he didn’t

let it out.

All he said was this:

“Don’t carry it all alone anymore, Laurel.”

I looked at him.

“I won’t. Someone’s going to be right there with me.”

Something behind his eyes flickered and went out.

But he pulled together a smile anyway.

“Good.”

I turned and walked away without looking back.

My mom was waiting at the end of the aisle.

The second she saw me, her face crumpled.

“I’m walking you down that aisle.”

The same hands that once pushed me away were shaking now, holding mine like they’d never let go.

I didn’t tell her I forgave her. I didn’t say I was still hurt.

I just squeezed her hand.

Across the aisle, my little brother stood in the crowd, eyes red.

He’d worked his way up to vineyard manager.

But when he saw me coming, his voice came out the same way it always had when we were kids.

“Laurel.”

I smiled.

“Still crying?”

He turned his face away.

“Just my allergies.”

In the distance, all 1,650 acres of vineyard hills rippled in the wind.

The vines that had once been destroyed were thriving again in Northpine.

So was I.

Someone once burned my world to the ground.

But I grew a new one. With my own hands.