“Have you ever asked her about it?”
“No,” Mila answered quickly. “What’s the point? She’d just lie like she always does. She just pretends everything is fine, like she didn’t wreck our family. Why won’t she just tell the truth?”
Bianca couldn’t move. Her spine pressed against the wall like it might hold her up. That night—the night—flashed through her mind: the shouting, Harry slamming the door. Bianca had thought she’d hidden it all from Mila. Apparently not.
The floor creaked beneath her, and suddenly the girls fell silent upstairs. Bianca straightened quickly and cleared her throat.
“Girls?” she called lightly, forcing calm into her voice. “Everything okay up there?”
Mila called back, her voice sharp with defensiveness, “Yeah, we’re fine.”
Bianca waited another second, then stepped back into thekitchen, placing the bottle on the counter next to the fruit. She braced her hands on the edge of the sink, staring out the window into the darkness of the night. Her stomach turned.
So, Mila knew why Harry left. She knew the truth, and Bianca was the villain.
She closed her eyes.
Behind her, the screen door creaked. Remi walked in with their empty glasses. “Everything okay?” she asked.
Bianca nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just … still spooked from that text message.”
“And rightly so,” Remi said, placing the glasses on the counter.
She couldn’t stop hearing Mila’s voice. The words echoed loudly in her head, sharp and unforgiving. Her eyes widened, as if she’d seen a ghost. She shivered from the chill bumps racing up and down her arm. How much did Mila know? Had she heard all of it or just bits and pieces?
She wrecked our family.
The sad part was, she truly had.
Chapter Twelve
Remi
The sun hung low, casting a golden light across the vineyard. Rows of grapevines shimmered in the breeze. Remi walked the length of the futureJoieproperty, clipboard in hand, sunglasses perched on her head. She paused in front of the old stone building that would become the tasting room, its weathered charm undeniable. Bianca joined her, nursing a bottle of mineral water and wearing oversized sunglasses.
“You got that woman-on-a-mission look on your face again,” Bianca teased.
Remi smiled faintly. “Talked to Leo this morning. He connected me with his architect friend. Really sharp guy. We already had a phone call. He gave me some solid advice about the tasting room.”
“Damn. That was fast.”
“I’ve got a pre-application meeting with Napa County next week,” Remi added. “They’ll walk me through the whole permitting process.”
Bianca smiled. “I’m so glad you’re doing this.”
Remi looked around at the building. “Me too.”
“Regardless of what happened that day, Gerard would beproud. He would want you to move forward, even if it’s without him.”
Remi didn’t answer right away. Her throat tightened as she thought of that last argument with Gerard.
“He loved the name—Joie. Said he could see me here, barefoot in the vines, pouring wine and laughing.” Remi giggled. “I told him I don’t see myself barefoot in anybody’s vines. Not this girl.”
Bianca laughed. “No, not at all. Not Remi, who was afraid of playing in the mud when we were kids—too afraid of getting your hands dirty.”
“I wanted to be a little lady, not a mud dobber.”
“You’re still that way. Afraid to let your hair down. Sometimes you just need to throw caution to the wind.”