Chapter 59 Spencer Nash

Intricately Woven into the Thread

Five Months After the Wedding

Holy shit.

Holy shit .

We pull away from the vineyard, and it's all so clear to me now—the reason why Maggie wants to keep Newlywed in the family. The reason why Maggie wants to pass down her vineyard to a married couple. The reason why no infidelity is an actual part of her conditions for handing it down.

Theodore Monroe isn't just some random dude running Newman Winery in Temecula.

Theodore Monroe is Maggie's younger half-brother, the product of an affair between her mother and another man.

I have about a million questions, but this was all information I gleaned from Sylvia, the manager of the tasting room. She had no idea who I was, and I was careful with the questions I asked.

She had a way of running her mouth, as if she told this story all the time. Sometimes tasting room workers love to chat about the lore of the place—as if that'll give people something to talk about. And an affair might be considered one of those juicy details that would help people remember a place, I suppose .

"Oh, yeah, the man who runs this place does it for his half-sister. She's a sweet little old lady who owns both this one and another vineyard in Minnesota. I guess she found out about him after her parents both passed, and she wanted him to run something that was part of the family. She was devastated to learn about the family secrets after her parents passed, and she decided she's willing it to her granddaughters, from what I hear." She shrugged after she said the words, and then she sort of leaned in and winked. "Hope they're nice enough to keep me on."

I wonder why Maggie kept Theodore a secret, but the apple doesn't fall all that far. If her parents kept him a secret from her, she must've had her reasons to keep him a secret from everyone else in her family. The fidelity clause makes a lot more sense now, and knowing what I know now tells me she must've clung to the vineyard after her parents were gone as a way to hold onto them in the way she knew them rather than in the way they were exposed after they died.

I bought a case of cabernet sauvignon and walked out once I had the information I needed, but I didn't get the chance to meet Theodore, who was over at the production facility.

Not only does Grace have a relative she doesn't know about, but she could potentially inherit a vineyard that's less than an hour from where I live and work right now…and she doesn't even know?

I need to tell her, but I also need to tell Steve.

But I probably shouldn't tell Steve without talking to Maggie first.

And…when the hell did I get so intricately woven into the thread of this family?

I quietly told my wife we could stay married so she could get her vineyard, but I'm out. And the fact that I come in second with her still remains true. As much as my mind is blown after visiting the vineyard, I can't help but remember why I felt like I needed to end things.

I thought those words would give me the sense of relief I was seeking. It's only been a week, but it's been one of the goddamn worst weeks of my life. Not because of anything in particular that happened to make it bad, but because there's a hole in my chest where my heart used to reside, and I fucking miss Grace.

I love her.

I miss talking to her every day. I miss her random texts and cat memes.

I don't want to be without her, but I also know I can't stay married forever to someone who doesn't count her husband on her list of priorities.

Asher is quiet beside me—for now. He's letting me process, and I appreciate the hell out of him for that.

Or maybe there's more to it. Maybe he has something of his own going on, something he wants to talk about but can't because I've filled the space with my own issues.

Why else would he have dropped everything to come be with me when I never even said what the fuck I was doing?

"You okay, man?" I finally ask.

"I could ask the same of you."

"No," I answer truthfully. "I ended things with Grace a week ago because I couldn't keep coming in second to her vineyard, and I think it might've been a mistake."

He sits up a little straighter. "Because I made you realize it?"

I grunt. "No. Because I realized it all on my own."

He rolls his eyes as he sinks back into the seat. "Whatever."

"Maybe a little because of your help. But can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Why'd you come out without an explanation?" I ask.

"You sounded like you needed me, and I'm nothing if not loyal to my brothers." He lifts a shoulder.

"Something's going on with you," I accuse. "The talk about commitment. How love isn't logical. All of it. What's up with you?"

He blows out a breath. "I met someone. We only had one night together, and we didn't exchange anything more than first names and bodily fluids, and now I can't stop thinking about her."

My jaw slackens. "You met someone? "

"You heard me," he mutters, and he turns his gaze out the window.

I blow out a low whistle. "Women." I shake my head at the single word that pretty much sums it all up. We drive the rest of the way back lost in thought about our own situations, I suppose, but it's nice having my brother here with me in the silence anyway.

It makes me feel like I'm not really alone.

He fiddles with his phone as we approach my apartment complex.

When I pull into a space, and before I get out of the car, I glance over at him and ask, "So what are you going to do?"

"Checking flights back to Vegas now that your mission is complete."

"I meant about the someone you exchanged bodily fluids with," I say dryly.

"Oh," he says. He clicks his phone off and sets it in his lap, and he stares out the windshield. "I don't know. She was just in town for a weekend, and I'll probably never see her again." He shrugs, but I sense the sadness in his tone.

"There's no way to get in touch with her?"

He shakes his head. "All I've got is the memory and a first name."

"Do you want to do something about it?"

"I'm in season. I need to put my focus there." He says the words, but I sense something else in there. There must be something he could do—go to the place he met her and ask for footage or receipts. But he doesn't seem to want to talk about it, so I back slowly away.

"I get it. I've been trying to do that, too, but I haven't been successful in getting her out of my head."

"Neither have I," he admits.

"Want to come up for a drink before you head out?"

He nods. We get out of my car and head toward the building, and I hit the button for the penthouse. I wrestle with what to do with this new information, and I think before I say anything to anyone, I need to touch base with Maggie. It's the right thing to do. She kept all this a secret from her family for her own reasons, and it's not my place to expose any of it.

The elevator doors slide open, and my eyes are on my keys in my hand as I flip through them to find the one that opens my door.

When I glance up, I spot the woman sitting on the floor leaning against my door, and all the air is squeezed out of my lungs as a warmth fills my chest.

She's here.