Page 9 of Truth and Temptation
“This seriously sexy dude who came into the café last week. I’m talking hot with a capital H. And then we saw him in Westport a couple days ago at that store opening we went to,” Mila is quick to answer, earning another glare from me.
“It doesn’t matter who he is. Wyatt isn’t from here, therefore, he has probably already left town. And even if he hasn’t, there was no indication in any of our interactions that he would be remotely interested in engaging in any sort of intimate activity with me.” My voice is ridiculously high at the end, and my friends are all staring at me.
“Does he have shaggy hair and tattoos on his wrists?” Ashley asks. “Because a good-looking guy came by the winery yesterday for a tasting and bought a few bottles. I was visiting Finn and even I did a double take at this guy.”
“Yes! Trees on his wrists, right, Paige?” Mila looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to confirm. Reluctantly, I incline my head in agreement.
“Hold on. You’ve seen a guy you’re attracted to, twice, and you haven’t told me about him?”
Even I can hear the hurt tone to Serena’s words, and inwardly, I wince. And pointedly avoid correcting her that I have actually seen Wyatt more than twice. Not that I am counting…
“It was not an intentional oversight, I assure you. I simply didn’t think my meeting Wyatt warranted a discussion, given the improbability of anything ever occurring between us.” I touch Serena’s knee, and she gives me a soft smile.
“But you thought about something happening with him, didn’t you? You were attracted to him? That’s a good thing, Paige.”
I nod slowly. I cannot keep the truth from these women. They are my friends, they know me, all the parts of me, and for whatever reason, they accept me just the same.
“Yes, I was — am — attracted to Wyatt. He is a very…handsome man. And I did —” I pause, feeling the heat steal over my cheeks. I take off my glasses and wipe them on my shirt before putting them back on. “I did feel things that I hadn’t felt before. I suppose they were the feelings of desire. But —” I hold up my hand because I can see Serena clamoring to interject “— nothing will ever happen. As I said, he is likely not even in town any longer, and even if he were, I have no intention of acting on my desires. I don’t believe sexual relations are a worthwhile endeavour for myself.”
Serena lets out a loud sigh, as if she is the one affronted by the conversation. “Paige, Paige, Paige. What are we going to do with you?” She lets her head fall to my shoulder, and I reach up and pat it somewhat awkwardly. It truly eludes me as to why my friends feel it is such an atrocity that I have no interest in sex. At least not in the same way they all seem to.
Although, secretly, I will admit, if there was ever someone I would consider exploring things with, it would be the mysterious Wyatt. Perhaps that is why it’s a relief to me that he has likely left town by now. After all, I’m not even certain how to begin exploring an intimate relationship. And as much as I love these women, and as much as they already know about me and my lack of experience, I cannot bring myself to discuss this further with them. Not while things are so confusing and tumultuous in my own mind.
No, what I need is some time and space, from Wyatt and from the prying minds of my friends, to come to terms with my reactions to Wyatt. Time to process the new sensations and feelings, and file them away under interesting life experiences, and then move on from them.
Except that plan is obliterated when Ashley speaks.
“Paige, if Wyatt is the guy who came to the winery…” she bites her lip and lifts her shoulders almost apologetically. “He said he was going to be here for a few weeks, at least. He and Finn were talking about hiking trails.”
Damn it.
Chapter five
Wyatt
“Doesn’t this remind you of the wine from that place, oh, what was it called? Ah yes, Prohibition Winery. We visited last time we were in California. Remember, Hank?”
My dad makes some random grunt of acknowledgment. He’s been buried in emails for the past hour, despite Mom’s numerous attempts to get us all to converse like some big happy family. Not that it’ll work. It never really does, hasn’t for years.
“Wyatt, have you had a chance to think about your plans now that the opening is over? We could use you in Victoria, or you could come back to the mainland for a while.” Mom sounds so hopeful; I hate knowing that I’ll be disappointing her, yet again. I close my eyes briefly and steel myself against the inevitable pain I know I’ll see when I respond.
“Actually, I talked with Dad about taking some time off. Maybe a few weeks or so. We don’t have any more openings coming up until spring, so I was hoping to get a break.”
Sure enough, Mom is frowning. “But you’ll try to come home for…November, right?”
She can’t even bring herself to say the date. She never has. It’s always just ‘November,’ never ‘November 8th’ or ‘the anniversary of the day Ryder died.’
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, Wyatt.”
There it is. There’s the pain, the disappointment, the grief. And here comes the tidal wave of guilt that always hits me, engulfing me, drowning me. Every fucking year.
“It would mean a lot to your mother if you would come home, son.” Dad’s voice chimes in, and I glance over to see him peering at me over the top of his computer screen.
“I know. I just can’t. Maybe next year.” My words sound hollow and land flat. I grab my glass of wine, a Meritage from a local winery my parents and I went to yesterday. It’s good. But it still sticks in my throat as I take a long sip.
My guilt only builds as my mom walks over to the kitchen, busying herself with God only knows what. Dinner was catered, and the staff already cleared the dishes. There’s nothing to do. When I see her hand lift to her cheek to swipe away what I imagine are tears, I feel my cold, broken heart crack even further. No matter how it may seem, I hate hurting my mom. I just know that trying to be with my parents on the anniversary of Ryder’s death would hurt even more. More than I can handle.
