19. Emily

Neither, says Caeleb abruptly. How about we visit the vineyard instead? But before that, how about we go out and about?

What do you have in mind? I ask, momentarily swayed from the plans I had. He smiles and extends a hand. Lets go.

We set out. I feel like a child getting to see Emberton through the eyes of someone entirely new.

Caelebs Emberton, with its vibrant street markets, quirky coffee shops, and the gentle hum of the ocean in the distance, feels like stepping into a postcard of the coast. We stroll through busy streets, the warm sun kissing our faces.

Ever tried paddleboarding? Caeleb asks, a mischievous glint in his eye. He points at a small rental shop tucked along the beachfront.

Um, Ive conquered runways across the globe, but conquering the waves? I raise an eyebrow in mock uncertainty. Thats a different arena entirely.

Pity, he drawls, I was imagining you gliding across the waves, every bit as graceful as you are on the runway.

I cant help but laugh. Alright, challenge accepted. Just dont laugh if I end up face-first in the sand.

An hour later, after a few less-than-graceful attempts and a whole lot of laughter, I manage to find my balance. The feeling of gliding across the water, the sun warm on my back, is oddly exhilarating. I look back to see Caeleb effortlessly paddling, a grin splitting his face.

The afternoon fades, painting the sky in a blaze of gold, pink, and fiery orange. We settle on the beach, the sand cool beneath our feet, and simply drink in the fiery spectacle as the sun dips below the horizon.

I dont remember the last time I just sat and watched a sunset, I murmur, mesmerized.

Caelebs gaze rests on the fading light. Its easy to lose sight of the simple things amidst the chaos, he says, his voice low. New York … sometimes it feels suffocating. Everyone in a frenzy, always competing, chasing an ever-elusive perfect life.

He pauses, then continues, his voice raw, honest. My ex … he begins, then trails off, a shadow crossing his face. She played me like a harp, used my son for her means. We did settle our differences for the sake of my kid, but some wounds never heal.

Once upon a time, I told him I didnt care that he was a single parent.

I still dont, not in the sense of it being a deal-breaker. If anything, hes been wonderful. I have the feeling hes also an amazing dad. But seeing the shadows pool in his eyes as he loses himself to his past makes me wince. Hes hurting. Im so sorry, Caeleb, I say, my hand finding his, offering silent support.

He squeezes my hand, warmth returning to his touch. It taught me a lot. About the world, about myself. He turns towards me, his green eyes searching mine. Then I came back here. Found a community. Built a life that feels real. Its funny … that old house, my mother, Brian … they turned out to be the home I never expected.

He looks away, out across the waves, a faraway look in his eyes. Sometimes … you need to go out into the world to figure out where you truly belong. Where youre loved, truly loved.

The words strike a chord deep within me. Isnt that what Im doing right here, in this unfamiliar town, with these unexpected people? My heart constricts with a bittersweet longing for the life I left behind, and then it softens at the thought of the warmth and strength Ive found here.

Darkness falls, the stars emerging one by one in the deepening twilight. Caelebs words echo in my mind as we walk, and the fear that usually accompanies thoughts of home lessens slightly. After a while, we get into his car, and then, hes taking me to the vineyard.

Caelebs car, a sleek vintage convertible, gleams in the dying light. The leather seats are worn smooth with age, exuding a warmth that reminds me of his home. As we drive, the air turns crisp, carrying the earthy scent of the vineyards that stretch along the winding road.

We used to come here all the time, when we were kids, Caeleb says, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. Hide-and-seek, building forts … this part of the vineyard always felt like our own secret world.

Id forgotten that the vineyards existed long before I ever did and that Dad had a life tied to them that had nothing to do with me. It puts a lot in perspective. I try to picture him as a boy, a mischievous glint replacing the focused intensity in his eyes.

The thought brings a smile to my face. Caeleb notices but doesnt say anything. After we reach the vineyards, we find a secluded spot, a clearing hidden amongst the rows of vines. He spreads out a blanket, and we sit, the stars winking above us. It feels achingly romantic, the two of us in this quiet corner of my world.

The silence stretches, but its not uncomfortable, more like anticipation. Caelebs gaze sweeps across my face as if trying to read my thoughts, unravel my mysteries.

Youre a strange one, Emily, he says finally, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Runway model turned vineyard owner. Makes no sense at all.

Just wait, I retort, a teasing note in my voice, Soon, Ill be known as Emily Martin, Winemaking Queen and Grape Whisperer.

His chuckle is low and warm, filling the quiet space. He leans closer, his eyes locking with mine. The intensity in his gaze makes my breath hitch.

You make me feel things I didnt think were possible anymore, his voice is a low rumble, and something in the way he says it, raw and unguarded, sends a shiver down my spine.

My heart thunders against my ribs as if trying to escape my body. Before I can think, before I can stop myself, Im leaning in too, drawn by a force I cant resist.

Our lips meet, a gentle clash that quickly turns into something more desperate, more consuming. His hands cradle my face, his touch both rough and tender. I tangle my fingers in his hair, the world fading away as I give myself over to the wildfire sensation blazing between us.

When we finally break apart, Im breathless, my head spinning. Caelebs eyes, dark and unreadable in the dim starlight, search mine.

Emily, he murmurs, my name a soft sigh on his lips. Did I ever tell you how goddamned irresistible you are?

Then, hes pulling me up, pushing me against a tree, his movements no longer gentle.

I have a faint sense of déjà vu.