Two endless, miserably lonely weeks during which I didn’t see her at all.

The vineyard seemed lifeless without her at my side. The cellar felt like an inescapable dungeon. But the walls of my empty house seemed determined to close in on me, so I spent more time than ever at work.

For the first few days, I kept hoping she’d change her mind and show up to work at the winery. But she didn’t, and when Chloe began emailing me responses to the job listing she’d posted for tasting room manager, my heart sank—she really wasn’t coming back.

I went to the gym every morning and sometimes in the evening too, nearly busting my hands taking my anger out on the bag. I was fucking furious with myself for forcing the situation. Why couldn’t I have had a little more patience? Given her a little breathing space? Let her come to me when she was ready? Instead I had to go charging over there like a bull in a china shop, destroying everything with my clumsy attempt to win her fragile heart.

And every night, I lay awake yearning to be with her and wondering how the hell you got over losing someone who was never yours in the first place.

* * *

Valentine’s Day fell on a Friday, and I decided to spend the evening at the gym. I’d just come through the door when I heard a voice call my name.

“Hi Mr. DeSantis!” It was Keaton. He was standing near the entrance, probably waiting to be picked up.

“Hey, Keaton. How’s it going?”

“Good.”

“How was your class tonight?”

“Great.” He smiled enthusiastically. “I really love it, and the coach says I’m really improving.”

“I bet you are.” I gave him a grin. He looked healthy and happy, maybe even taller than when I’d last seen him on New Year’s Eve. Kids grew so fast.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you about something,” he said. “It’s for my science fair project.”

“Sure, go ahead.” I shifted my bag higher on my shoulder.

“I want to do an experiment to test whether music affects plant growth. My grandpa thought maybe you’d be able to help me.”

“What a cool idea. I’d love to help you.” I paused. “But make sure it’s okay with your mom, all right?”

“Okay.”

Just then, Whitney came rushing through the door. “Keaton, we’ve been out there forever! Mom says to come on.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said, gesturing at me. “I was talking to Mr. DeSantis. He’s going to help me with my science fair project.”

Whitney’s face flushed. “Oh . . . hi.”

“Hi, Whitney. How are you?”

“Good.” She looked at my feet rather than make eye contact. “We should go, Keaton.”