I remembered when I’d learned about his long-distance girlfriend and how jealous I’d become, my stomach churning at the assumption that if James were dating someone out of state, it meant he was super serious about her. My imagination had soared as I braced myself for the news that they were engaged. I had been so relieved when I heard they’d broken up.

“Maria lasted a whopping six months. That’s not long-term, sorry. Plus, I heard, the second she wanted more, started pressing him for a commitment and a future, he broke up with her and never looked back. And the girl from Seattle was just that—a girl so far away that he never had to fully commit to her. The man is waiting for you, the same way he’s always been.”

It was my turn to choke on laughter. “The man probably just wants to steal my recipes and get into my head to see how I come up with ideas and to see which wine I’m entering this year so that he can copy it for next month’s competition.” It is a 2012 Chianti with hints of cinnamon, by the way. It has never been done before in our region, and I perfected the hell out of it. James Russo couldn’t copy my wine if he tried.

“You’re insane,” Jeanine said. “But, back to the original question, we both know that James comes here because it’s his job and he has to. The same way you do,” she said a little too snarkily for my liking.

I was the face of La Bella Wines. Not literally. I mean, my face wasn’t plastered on the company logo or the wine labels, thank God, but when it came to marketing, events, fundraisers and competitions, I was the person who came to mind when you thought of my family’s award-winning winery. The same way that James Russo was the face of his less-award-winning one.

While I focused on bringing something different to La Bella Wines with each season, James seemed content to focus on coming in second place year after year. He should be used to it by now, but that man never quit or gave up. Whenever competition season rolled around, he assaulted me with verbal jabs, testing my patience and swearing that this would be the year his wine would outperform mine. It never was. And it never would be. Not as long as I was still breathing.

“I don’t have to do this. I choose to,” I reminded Jeanine as I uncorked the various bottles since she hadn’t even started doing it yet.

“Well, so does James. He doesn’t have to either. He wants to.”

Was she actually defending him to me right now?

“Since when do you know so much about James’s personal life, thoughts, and opinions?”