I can’t imagine the look of disappointment on my parents’ faces. I should have been there for my family. I shouldn’t have run. But I didn’t know what else to do. There was no way I could have sat through another dinner or stood anywhere near Boz during the awards and kept myself together.
Boz is a vampire. Boz is a freaking vampire! Vampires are real! All I can think about is that image of him sucking the life from that guy. On the other hand, I can’t stop wanting to be near him. The pull feels like it’s coming from a part of me I didn’t even know existed. It’s needy and hungry. But only for him.
That’s why I left. That’s why I had to put as much distance as possible between me and Boz. The conflict is tearing me in two.
How can I want someone who utterly terrifies me? I just can’t see it working. I can’t see our two worlds coming together in a way that could ever make me happy. I love my family. I love sunshine and fresh air. I love coming home to the smell of Eliza and Mabel’s latest baking creation or to an enormous puddle of Sadie’s drool on the floor and the sound of my parents stealing kisses in the living room when they think we can’t hear. My life might not be perfect, but it’s warm and filled with light. I’d hoped to add to it one day with children when I found the love of my life.
But Boz? He’s…he’s…an eight-hundred-year-old vampire! He’s the night. He kills people and drinks blood.
My fingers longingly reach for the spot on my neck where his fangs gave me the most incredible orgasm of my life.
Really? Really, Stella? I berate myself. You’re willing to overlook all of the bad stuff just because of an orgasm?
“I’m hopeless!” I sigh, feeling like my head is about to explode. I need a hot bath, a toothbrush, and a long nap. Tomorrow, my parents should be home. Neli and Boz will likely arrive with them. As soon as I see him, I have to tell him the truth. There is no us. There is no future I can see with a man whose love would require me to become a vampire.
I can’t ever see him again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Stella
The next morning my family is back. And lucky them, they did it without a strip search. Not that they needed one to feel down. Everyone is putting on a brave face, talking about what a great trip it was, but I can read between the lines. We all know the ribbon isn’t enough to save Stellariva. I don’t see another way around declaring bankruptcy. My parents will lose everything they’ve worked so hard for, and it’s doubtful anyone would approve loans for the twins to go to culinary school. I’ve failed them.
My sisters volunteer to go to the grocery store after breakfast, which gives me the chance to talk to my parents alone. They’re sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee, and talking in hushed tones. I take in my mom’s ratty old beige cardigan and my dad’s faded chambray shirt—signs of financial distress I should’ve noticed. They probably haven’t bought anything for themselves in years. Everything was for me and my sisters. My throat clogs with emotion.
“Mom, Dad, I’m so—” my voice chokes “—so sorry. I failed you. I did everything I could think of with marketing and the labels and blends.” I wipe tears from my eyes, overwhelmed by the past couple of days. “Everything you worked so hard for…it’s just—”
“Stella,” Mom says, rushing over to hug me, “none of this is your fault.”
My dad peers at me, hovering over Mom’s shoulder. “We know you tried your best. We never should’ve put so much on your shoulders. We’re the ones who failed you. This was supposed to be your inheritance.”
“No, Dad, you gave me a legacy to be proud of, but now…”
My dad wraps his arms around both of us. “My girls, we’ll be okay.”
I sniffle as we break apart from our family hug. My dad always says we’ll be okay, but I just don’t see how.
Mom puts her arm around me, guiding me to one of the island stools. She pours a cup of coffee for me.
I wrap my fingers around the white ceramic mug, comforted by its warmth. “What are we going to do?”
My parents exchange a look, and I tense. They’ve been keeping secrets from me again. “What? Just tell me.”
Dad speaks in a soothing tone. “First, just know that your mom and I love what we’ve created here. We’ve loved raising a family at a vineyard. It’s given us so much freedom and the opportunity to be part of your lives. We both got to see you girls growing up. Something we would’ve missed out on if we had to commute to a job.”
Mom nods. “It was a gift to have this family time together, living and working on this beautiful land.”
“And now it’s over,” I say flatly.
Dad sighs. “You girls are grown. The twins only have a year left to graduate, and they’re both so independent. Maybe it’s time for us to move on.”
“Bankruptcy,” I say softly.
“Actually,” Mom says, “we thought if we sold the house and the land, we could avoid bankruptcy. After we pay off our debt, we may have enough to get the twins to culinary school.”
The breath whooshes out of my body. Sell Stellariva? It never occurred to me they’d give up our home. The rolling hills of beautiful California wine country that I thought would be my view for the rest of my life—gone. I swallow hard over the lump of emotions lodged in my throat. This house, this land holds so many memories. I can’t imagine never being able to return to it.
“Stella, it’s the only option that makes sense from a business standpoint,” my dad says. “Surely you see that.”
Panic takes hold. “What if you sell it to someone who turns it into a parking lot or a shopping center? Or cookie-cutter suburban homes or a gas station! It could be anything. You don’t know what they’d do with it.”
Mom holds up a finger. “Or…maybe another young family looking to run a vineyard could buy it.” She doesn’t sound convincing.
I press my lips together. The land will be bulldozed. Everything ruined.
Dad squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll be okay. You have a degree. Start sending out résumés. I’m sure an employer will snap you up in no time.”
“And what will you two do?” I ask.
“We’ll downsize for sure,” Mom says. “Probably rent an apartment nearby so the twins can stay in the same school district. After they graduate, well, we’ll have to move somewhere cheaper.”
“I’ll start sending out résumés too,” Dad says.
I worry my lower lip. My parents are in their fifties now after working more than two decades here. I’m not sure the job market will be that easy for them to get back into.
“We’ll survive,” Mom says with a note of steel in her voice. “Don’t worry about us, okay?”
I nod and sip my coffee, but I know I’ll worry. Worse, I can’t stand for them to sell this wonderful land and house. It means too much to them, to all of us. There must be something I can do.
“I asked the twins to pick up some flowers to give Neli and Boz as a thank-you for everything,” Mom says. “It’s just a token, I know, but how can we ever repay all that they did for us?”