A Sip of You(18)

“That I’m especially glad to hear. This is from our first bottling of rosé,” he held up his glass and swirled the deep pink liquid in it. “Rosés are tricky. This is rosato, which is what it’s called in Italy. It’s a very old kind of wine—ancient actually. We follow the traditional method, which means we press the red grapes early and allow only about a day for skin-contact. That limited maceration is what imparts the color and most of the flavor. It’s not a wine meant to be aged. The flavors are too delicate. So far, I’ve been very pleased with our results. But like I said, this is our first bottling. Who knows how next year will go.”

My head was reeling, I was so impressed. “But you said you mostly make whites?”

He nodded. “We do. Sparkling mostly, with the Chardonnay and Pinot Meunier grapes. But I’ve been trying a few reds too. Small bottlings. And of course the rosé. I’ll arrange for a tasting tomorrow and you’ll be able to sample all of it. It’s a small operation, but I’m really proud of our bottles.”

I listened as he continued to talk about the vineyard and its operations. He was animated and so obviously passionate about making wine. I wondered if he was as passionate about his other business ventures.

The combination of the spicy food, the outdoor heaters, and the wine made me feel warm and cozy, but the real warmth I wanted was from the man sitting across the table from me. I wanted more than talk. We’d been in bed at The Peninsula, making love, just over twelve hours ago and that’s exactly where I wanted to be again: in bed, with William, with his heavy muscled body pressing on top of mine and his hard cock pressing between my legs. Our petting session on the plane had been fun, but it hadn’t come close to quelling the deep ache for him I felt in my core.

William reached across the table and took my hand, and I realized I hadn’t been paying attention or speaking for several moments. His warm hand drew my attention back to him, and he gave me a tentative smile. “I know you must be wondering about why we’re here—about my brother.”

My attention snapped to his face. I knew him well enough now to see the fine lines of strain about his eyes and mouth. My lust would have to wait. This was difficult for him, and I loved him for telling me anyway. This was what I had been waiting for too: him finally opening up to me. “I have been wondering,” I said. “I know it’s hard to talk about.”

“You’ve waited long enough,” he said, his hand stroking mine. He looked down at our clasped fingers. “I died the day I lost my family. I was eleven, ready to start middle school, when my parents and Wyatt died in the plane crash.”

“Oh, William.” I wanted to hug him, but I knew I had to allow him to speak without interruption.

“I was at summer camp when it happened. That’s why I wasn’t on the plane.” His eyes met mine. They were a dark grey I hadn’t seen before. He looked sad and in his gaze I saw a piece of the little boy he’d been. “And being spared was its own kind of hell. Why me? Why was I the lucky one?” He gave a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t even call it luck. I can’t count the number of times I wished I’d been on that plane. I wished I’d died too.”

“No.” I shook my head, feeling helpless to comfort him.

“I was just a little kid and I lost everything. Everything I knew and loved in my life was gone. I said goodbye when they dropped me off at camp and then I never saw them again. Ever. Of course I had my aunt and uncle. We’d always been close to them, but becoming a member of their family was a lot different than spending Christmas afternoon at their house. They tried.” His gaze was far away as though remembering. “They supported me, and I know it wasn’t always easy. I wasn’t easy. People said I had a hard time adjusting, and I was pretty fucked up. My life changed completely. Our house in the city was sold and everything was sold with it or put into storage. I went to live in Lake Forest, which meant I had to start a new school and say goodbye to all of my friends.

“It sucked. I went for months without really talking. I was sullen and withdrawn, not exactly the kind of kid voted most popular. And I got into fights, a lot. That went on until I finished college.”

I couldn’t imagine William being violent, but he was a big guy with an impressive physique and an even more impressive presence. I had no doubt he could more than handle himself if provoked, but that wasn’t something I ever wanted to see. “What about counseling?” I asked.

He nodded. “I went into therapy. Spent years dissecting and being dissected, but it didn’t help. It didn’t bring them back.”