He has no idea. My brain is traveling a thousand miles per second trying to figure out what happened so long ago. “I want to know about the wine guy. Who was he, and why is Cécile still single? Is she with him?”
“What did she do before she became your guardian?”
“The same thing she does now. She worked at the winery in France.”
“At Château Lavigne? Your grandfather’s winery?”
I nod, wondering if that’s where she met this mysterious man.
“He was probably a client or a colleague,” he says.
That sounds logical. Maybe they met during a wine tasting or he owns a restaurant in Paris. “But what happened to him?”
Heath taps my nose, then kisses it. “You’re being nosy.”
“Only concerned. I mean, she never came to visit Esme. Until now, I never thought much of it, but I recall not seeing my aunt for two years until I woke up in the hospital. Did she give up her life for me?”
There’s a twinge in my heart. Did I destroy her future and all her plans?
“What does that mean?”
I glance at Heath and erase that theory because maybe what happened is that the love of her life didn’t want the kid. “Maybe the wine guy didn’t want kids. She gave the child up and ran off with him.”
“Would you do that?”
“Never,” I growl. “I’d choose my kid over any man—even their father.”
Cécile chose me over her life. Why would she do that? I rush to Heath’s office where my phone is charging, and dial Cécile’s number immediately.
“Hello?” she answers all groggy.
“Esme was your daughter?”
“It’s almost three in the morning, Atzi. Are you okay?”
I flinch, oops. How did I forget the time difference? “No. I’m not and I’m sorry to call this late. We can try to talk about it later.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll call later,” I insist.
“You felt this was too important to even consider the time difference. We should discuss it now. Remember that once you wake me up, it’s impossible for me to fall back asleep.”
That’s true. I might as well get this over with, or the questions will continue popping into my head until she clarifies everything. “Esme. She was your child.”
“Oh boy, it was twenty years ago. Why are we discussing her now?”
“She was your baby. I want to know what happened. Why did you give her up?”
“It’s a complicated subject. It’s better if we leave it in the past.”
“Try me,” I insist.
“I’d rather not.”
Okay, so if she won’t answer that question, I can try another one. Something has to come out of this conversation. “Is it so you could be with her father?”
“Not at all. Leave everything in peace, okay? It’s best for everyone.”
Who is everyone? My parents are dead and so is my sister. “But I can’t.”
“How did you find out?”
In French, I tell her my grandparents are here and the ordeal we’re dealing with because of my big fat lie.
She groans. “I thought I told you to tell them the truth years ago. Why did you continue with this idiotic fabrication?” She sounds like an upset mother who’s about to send me to time-out.
“Because what if they stop speaking to me? I don’t have many people left.”
“Then it’s their loss. You have me, and all the Lavignes adore you.”
“Only when I visit them.” I sound bitter, but it’s true. They don’t seem to care much about me.
“Do you need me there?”
“No. I’m fine.”
She scoffs. “You’re a terrible liar. I’m not sure how you’re getting away with this farce.”
I shrug. “Me neither, but I hope it flies under their radar.”
“When are they leaving?”
“This Saturday.”
“I’ll be there Sunday once they’re gone. Can you call the service to get the house ready? I wish you’d move there.”
“It’s too big for me.”
“There’s plenty of space for you and your studio. The lease on your parents’ house is almost up, are you going to renew it?”
“Yes, I don’t want the place, but I’m not ready to sell it. If you’re coming, maybe you should be here sooner than next Sunday.”
“Your grandmother and I don’t see eye to eye.”
“Why can’t you get along with them?” I’m just spitting all the questions I’ve had for years.
“I did my best while you were growing up. Now, I don’t need to deal with them.”
“They’re still my family, and I don’t want them to stop speaking to me.”
Aunt Cécile groans. “Listen, I adored your mother. Lydia was an amazing woman, a wonderful artist, and the best thing to happen to my grumpy brother. The best. She also gave us you. However, she had a big problem—just like you do.”
“What was it?”
“You want everyone to love you, and sometimes you have to accept that not everyone is chocolate or wine.”
“Chocolate or wine?” I ask confused. What is she talking about?
“Everyone loves one or the other. Sometimes both. People can’t ever be those items. You have to learn that if people don’t accept you for who you are, they’re not worth your time.”
“She’s my grandmother,” I argue.
“Then she should love you with flaws, bad taste in food, and weird addictions.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It shouldn’t be hard,” she states. “Family should be supportive, loving, and unconditional.”
“Why did you leave me when I turned eighteen?”
“I didn’t know you wanted me to stay.”
“You were my only family. I was left alone,” I say reproachfully.
“Honestly, I didn’t think of it that way. You had plans, and it felt like you were ready to spread your wings. I tried not to hover around you. In my head, it made sense to leave and take charge of the winery.”
“It felt like you abandoned me,” I confess, and suddenly, I feel Heath’s arms around me.
“That was never my intention. You’re the most important person in my world.”
“Not the wine guy?”
“Who?”
“Esme’s dad.”
“Leave that one alone, okay?” she says firmly.
“Are you still with him?”
“No. We broke up long ago.”
“You can look for him and maybe find happiness,” I suggest.
“I’m happy. Plus, I looked for him after Esme died to let him know and found out he had died.”
“Sorry.”
“Let’s never talk about it, okay? It’s for the best,” she asks with a soft nostalgic voice.
“I love you, and I’m sorry for bringing up sad memories.”
“Love you more, sweetie. I’ll buy the tickets for next week.”
“Sorry for waking you up.”