“Why did you change majors?” she asked gently.

“I’m getting a beer. Do you want one?” Without waiting for her answer, he shot out of bed and strode to the minifridge. “I think they have a couple bottles from Mammoth Brewery.”

“Sure, I’ll have one of those. They make good beer.” Tara let him take his time with answering. But he acted as though the conversation was over and stood studying the fridge with great interest. It seemed hard for him to talk about. Maybe it wasn’t fair of her to expect him to open up to her without making herself vulnerable first.

“I changed my major in the middle of college, too,” she volunteered after taking a fortifying breath.

“You did?” That caught his interest and he hurried back to the bed with their beer. “What happened?”

She wasn’t sure if he was really that interested in her change of major or he was just happy he wouldn’t have to talk about himself. It was probably a bit of both. “When I went to college, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I just thought I wanted to get out of Weldon and I wasn’t the least bit interested in working at Weldon Brewery. I thought beer was gross in my teens.”

Seth laughed. “So what was your major initially?”

“My school had one of the best viticulture and enology programs, so I thought I’d give it a go.”

“This is getting better and better. You were studying to become a winemaker?”

“Yes, yes. The irony runs deep.” Tara smiled at Seth, who was much more relaxed than he was a few minutes ago. “But I realized pretty quickly that what I wanted to do was become a master sommelier, so I shifted the focus of my courses to follow that path. I loved it.”

“When did you realize that viticulture and enology wasn’t the right major for you?” He was sitting crossed-legged on his side of the bed facing her, eager to hear the rest of her story.

“My college boyfriend decided that for me,” she said quietly, nagging shame digging its claws into her. She’d let him decide for her.

“What?” he said in a measured voice.

“Jason said I was wasting my time because it was almost impossible for women to become master sommeliers. He implied I certainly wouldn’t be able to become one.” How dare he? she roared inside her head, still blindingly angry after all these years. Some of that anger was directed at herself for being too afraid to stand up to him. “He chastised me for not thinking of my immigrant parents, who worked so hard to give me a good life, and told me to choose a nice, stable career for them. He convinced me that graphic design was a fitting job for someone like me.”

“Tara,” Seth said, a wealth of empathy resonating in the single word.

“I was so much in love, and so damn young. I believed everything he said was because he loved me and wanted the best for me. I suddenly felt guilty about not thinking about my parents. I felt foolish for pursuing a pipe dream when I had them to think of.”