Chapter 8 Spencer Nash

We Need to Talk

Three Months Before the Wedding

I head up to the offices, and Amelia isn't in hers. But Grace is in the one next door.

"Goat soap," I say, plopping a small tote bag onto her desk before I take a seat in the chair opposite her. "My mom makes it, and I helped her with everything you've got in there while I was in New York, so enjoy my hard labor."

"Thanks," she says, giggling as she peeks inside the bag. "It's nice to see you back here."

"You, too. What did I miss?" I ask.

She shakes her head as she sets the bag aside and leans back in her desk chair. She clears her throat. "We've been bracing for the cold weather to end so we can head into our busy season. How was New York, aside from the goat work?"

I chuckle. "It was good. I haven't spent that much time with my mom in…" I trail off then shrug. "Years. I caught up with some old buddies still in town, and being on the farm was more relaxing than I was expecting." And long talks with my mom where I figured out a few things about what I really want out of life were pretty damn good, too .

Before I left, I told Amelia I needed some space. She left me alone, and not hearing from her for ten whole days told me everything I needed to know.

I'm done.

"Any word yet on what's next for you?" she asks, lowering her voice.

I shake my head. "I've had a few people reach out. I've been invited to tour some facilities. I'm letting my agent field the calls, and he told me the Vikings are making it official by the end of this week."

"Where would you want to go?"

I twist my lips as I think it over. "I've always loved San Diego."

"The Storm?" she guesses, naming the pro football team there.

I nod. "I've heard great things about the organization. They're rebuilding, and they need a new WR."

"Like Spencer Nash?" she guesses.

I shrug. "We'll see."

"Ugh! There you are!" A voice at the doorway interrupts us, and I blow out a breath as the tornado otherwise known as my fiancée steps foot into Grace's office. "You just got back, and you're already in here?"

"You weren't in your office, and I brought some gifts," I say calmly to the whirlwind at the door as I hold up the bag of soaps I brought for her, too.

She folds her arms as she glares at me. "Well, I'm here now if you'd like to talk."

"Sure," I say, and I raise my brows at Grace before I follow her out to her office. I hope Grace caught the secret message I was trying to toss her direction that I'm here to end things with Amelia.

Ten days with my mom were enough for me to realize the truth.

Marrying Amelia isn't the right thing for me.

As much as I want a future at the vineyard, it can't be at the expense of my own happiness.

Figuring out where I'm playing next season is the next step .

There's really nothing like ten days with Mom to help put shit into perspective, and petting goats while we talked seemed to be exactly what I needed.

I follow Amelia into her office and shut the door behind me.

"Ooh, baby. Are you closing the door because you want to get frisky after so much time apart?" she asks, and she slides her hands up my chest to my shoulders as she moves in close.

I shake my head. "No, Amelia." I take a step back and walk over to the ugly green couch in her office. I sit, and nod for her to come sit beside me. "We need to talk."

"Ten days away, and you barely talked to me, but now you're ready?" She sighs and folds her arms across her chest. "What is it now?"

"Can you please come sit?" I ask.

She purses her lips and stands firmly where she is.

"The Vikings released me from my contract," I say quietly.

She gasps. "They what ?"

"They released me."

"When?" she asks through a clenched jaw.

"Before I went to New York."

"And you didn't bother to tell me?" she demands.

"I needed to deal with the reality of it myself first."

"You didn't think to share that with the woman you're going to marry?" she asks.

I shake my head. "No. Because I can't marry you, Amelia." My chest thunders as the words fall from my lips.

"Excuse me? Then what is this?" she asks, holding up her left hand and pointing to the ring I gave her.

A mistake?

I don't say that.

"I fell in love with you, and it was a whirlwind. But things changed when I gave you that ring, and I realized we rushed into things."

She turned into someone else. She went from the girl courting the football player to being very comfortable in our relationship, and I think this is the woman I'm set to marry—not the one who worked so hard to pursue me .

And I don't like this version of her. I can't spend forever with this woman—with someone who lies and manipulates.

Some guys in the league have reputations. But that's not me. It's never been me. I'm not really into long-term relationships, either. Amelia has been my longest. Instead, I just put the focus on football and kind of left it there.

"Rushed into things? We dated for a year before you asked me to marry you!" she protests.

"Right. Six months of which I was focused on the season rather than on our relationship. I'm sorry. I made a mistake when I asked you to marry me." I realize I'm not being clear enough. I don't want to be with her at all anymore. "I'm ending this relationship."

She gasps as her hands fly to her mouth, and then she rushes over to sit beside me on the couch like I asked her to do a few minutes ago. She takes my hand between hers. "Spencer, no! You can't do that to me! To us! I love you!"

"I know, Amelia. But this isn't working for me anymore."

"You're just overwhelmed because of the release. Your future is unsure, and I get it. Don't do this. Don't rush into this kind of decision," she begs.

"I'm so sorry. I'm not rushing into it. It's been over a long time, and I'm ready to make a clean break so I can move on," I say.

She starts to cry, and I knew that would happen. I braced for it.

It's not going to work this time.

"But we have our whole future planned out. You can't do this to me," she wails.

"Sometimes plans change."

She starts to sob, and I'm not sure what else I can do. "Please, Spencie. Please don't do this."

"It's over." I stick firmly to my words just as my mom advised me to do when the waterworks started.

Her lip quivers even as she sort of bares her teeth at me. "Fine, then. Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"I said get out," she hisses .

Gladly. "I'll just…I'll go sit by the firepit for a bit if you want to come talk." I stand and head out of the office, and even though I'm leaving a woman I care about crying behind me, I can't help but feel a huge burden lifted as I walk toward the mansion, around back, and toward the firepits.

I spot Gracie sitting there, staring into the fire.

"This seat taken?" I ask quietly.

She startles a bit at my voice, but she turns and glances up at me. "No. Are you okay?"

I sigh as I take the chair beside her. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"Remember when you two were fighting last time, and I said the walls are thin and I heard everything?"

I huff out a little chuckle. "Yeah."

"I came out here to give you two some privacy."

"It's over," I say quietly. "I did it."

"I know." She reaches over and pats my knee. "How are you feeling?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure yet. On the one hand, it's the end of a relationship, which is always difficult and sad. On the other…it was time. We ran our course. And then she told me to get out."

She twists her lips as she draws her hand back toward her own lap.

I look at the Grand Hall off in the distance from where we sit. I hate the idea of leaving this place behind, but it's time.

She's quiet a few beats, and then she sighs. "You're a good, kind man, Spencer, and you always deserved better than how Amelia treated you."

I need to get out of here. I know I promised Steve I'd take a look at his books and his procedures to ensure the vineyard is being run efficiently, but maybe that's not such a good idea anymore.

The idea of leaving this place behind—of leaving my friendship with Grace behind—is overwhelming.

But everything in my life is overwhelming right now, and this is something within my control.

"I need to go," I finally say to Grace.

She nods, and she stands. I stand, too, and I give her a quick hug .

"Thanks for…well, you know," I say. I offer a half smile before I turn to walk away to leave her and Amelia and this entire vineyard behind.

I don't know when I'll be back, and for some reason, that pulses an aching feeling of loneliness in my chest.

But the loneliness is replaced by anger as I turn the corner and spot my ex as of five minutes ago in a passionate embrace with Drew, the head of the cellar workers, out behind his bungalow.