“Sure. Wanna go out to dinner tonight? We could go into the village—I saw a quaint little pub that looks like somewhere you might love. It also means neither of us has to cook.”
Is he asking me out? That’s the first thing that crosses my mind, followed by my reasoning. No, he’s just being nice, given you were practically bawling your emotions out on him. Not everyone is a hopeless romantic like you, Amelia. But I swear, had the oven not been such a cockblock, he was about to kiss me. Wasn’t he?
“That sounds fun.” I smile at him as I put the cookies onto the baking trays and make my way to the oven. Bending over to slide the first tray in, I adjust the temperature and turn to grab the other one. I notice Adam’s gaze is locked on my ass and smile. Busted. An unabashed smirk crosses his face when he realizes he’s been caught and he turns away, making some excuse about checking his emails. But not before stretching his arms out above his head and glancing back at me with a knowing look, to see me predictably eating up the flexing of his muscles. Damn!
The local pub is everything I expected it to be. Cozy with a fireplace on one wall. Wooden tables and chairs packed in everywhere and a bar along the back. Adam orders us both a drink while I grab us a table. Sitting as close to the fire as possible, I glance around at the decorations. Red and green tinsel adorns the walls, and a seven-foot Christmas tree stands in one corner with presents placed underneath. Stockings are hung above the fireplace. Christmas songs are playing softly in the background, and the barmaids have Christmas hats on. It’s perfect.
Adam pulls the seat out and sits opposite me, handing me my glass of wine and smiling when he sees the tree I was admiring.
“It’s nice, but not as nice as ours,” he jokes, and my heart picks up at his reference to the tree we decorated at the cottage. Ours. I need to calm my little inner romantic down, we’re practically strangers for God’s sake.
I see a couple walking past the tree, and the man stops his partner and points above them to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Her smile is huge as she leans into him, and they share a kiss that has me averting my eyes, as if I’m intruding on an intimate moment. It’s impossible for me not to smile at the joy that Christmas brings when I catch Adam’s eye. As if he knows what I’m thinking, he smiles back before passing me one of the menus. I have a read through, trying to decide what I feel like, all too aware of his proximity and his occasional glances that find mine.
“So, no boyfriend? How is that possible? I mean, apart from your crazy obsession with Christmas, you seem pretty amazing.” he asks, causing me to choke on my mouthful of wine.
“Wow, talk about going straight for the jugular,” I joke, putting my glass down and looking up at him.
“Sorry…” he begins to apologize, but I cut him off with a shake of my head and a smile.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just messing with you. But, side note, nothing crazy about my love of all things merry and bright.” He laughs and takes a swig of his beer, waiting for me to continue. “I guess I’ve just never found the right guy. And I know that’s so cliche, but it’s true. I don’t want to settle, you know? I want the fairy tale.”
Looking at me pensively, he asks, “What is the fairy tale?”
The question puts me on edge. Let’s be honest, guys don’t listen to women like me talk about their ideal happily ever after without running a million miles in the other direction. But Adam’s looking at me, waiting as though nothing could scare him away.
“The fairy tale, Amelia. What is it?”
“You know…” I pause, swallowing down my trepidation. “The big gesture. Someone to put me first. My parents, they’re not bad people, but they always put their careers first, you know? Before me and Seb. Even before each other. I want to know that I’m important to someone, not just a convenience,” I admit, sheepishly.
Kate always mocks me for being such a romantic, but it’s simply who I am and have always been. It’s never going to change. I’m always going to want it all.
“You’re clearly important to your brother.”
“And he’s important to me, but I want to be someone’s entire world. As silly as that sounds…”
“Sounds very…idealistic,” Adam scoffs almost silently, and it makes me wonder why he thinks so.
“But not unrealistic. Well, not if you’re willing to wait for the right person. As with most things, patience will pay off.”
Taking a sip of my drink, I look down at my lap to try and gather myself. I didn’t expect the conversation to go down this road, and I didn’t expect him to listen to my ramblings the way he is. When I look back up, Adam’s still looking at me with that studious gaze that makes me feel almost too exposed to him.
“I know, you probably think I’m nuts or deluded or something…”
“Nuts…definitely, but there’s nothing wrong with knowing what you want,” he says with a smile that makes my thighs clench. They certainly know what they want.
“What about you? You seem pretty perfect—why aren’t you married with three kids and a dog?” I ask, taking another sip of wine as he laughs.
“I’m far from perfect, believe me.” He sighs as he leans back, running a hand through his hair and thinking about my question. “My job makes relationships hard. My dad is thinking of retiring, and I want him to know that I can take over the reins when he does. That he can depend on me. I can’t afford any distractions.” Focusing on his drink, he inhales deeply as though something is weighing on him.
“Are you one of those cliched bachelor playboys? You travel the world sweet-talking women into your bed…” I pause at the drawn expression on his face. It’s the most serious and hardened I’ve seen him so far, as though I haven’t just hit a nerve, I’ve repeatedly poked at it until it’s raw.
There’s a long breath of silence before Adam clears his throat, and ignoring my remark, he continues. “With all the traveling I do, it’s easier to be alone. Like you said, a relationship should mean putting the other person first, and that’s not possible right now,” he admits, and my chest clenches for him. While others may see the private jet and fancy hotels, I see the loneliness and everything he has had to sacrifice for his career. I also know I need to protect my heart. He’s everything I should shy away from, and yet, I can’t seem to put any distance between us.
“So event planning? How did that come about?” he asks, taking another mouthful of his beer and leading us back to safer waters.
“My best friend Kate and I have always loved planning things. We both worked for a big company but felt it lacked personal touches. We knew it was something we could offer people, so we decided to go into business together and Sweet Vine Co. was born,” I say with a smile.
“Where’d the name come from?”
Chuckling as I remember the night it came about, I say, “A few too many glasses into a gorgeous Riesling and things started to make too much sense. We’d come up with a business plan and everything. Kate jokingly said we should name the company after the wine that inspired it. But the label had gotten wet and peeled off. All we knew was that it was a sweet, German wine. And when she attempted to say sweet wine in a German accent…Sweet Vine was born.”