He stepped fully inside, the door closing behind him. “Thought I might find you here,” he said.
“This has become my home of sorts. So much needs to be done.” Remi gave him a warm smile.
He looked around, taking in the space—the bar nearly finished, the walls freshly painted. “It’s really starting to look like something,” he said, walking slowly. “Like you.”
Remi let out a small laugh. “A little unfinished, you mean?”
Leo smiled with warmth in his eyes. “No. I mean beautiful in a way that doesn’t try too hard.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That was dangerously close to a compliment.”
“I live on the edge,” he said, his smile like sunshine as he paused near the wall where the mural would go. “That mural is going to be a nice touch.”
“Incredibly nice. I can’t wait for it.”
“I know you’re busy here, but I was wondering if you’d like to take a drive with me,” he said.
“Where to?”
“San Francisco. I have a stakeholder meeting there in a few hours.”
Remi looked around the winery. There was nothing pressing that needed her attention.
“Sure. Why not?” She shrugged. “Let me freshen up and let Zoe know where I’m going.”
“Cool. I’ll meet you at your house in thirty?”
“Perfect.”
Leo’s car moved slowly down Highway 29, the vineyards blurring past in shades of green and gold. It was early enough that the sun was just starting to spill across the valley. Remi sat in the passenger seat, her elbow resting on the window ledge, fingers tapping against her knee in an absent rhythm. Her thoughts were a million miles away. The quietness of the drive took her to a place that made her tense—theconversation between her and Bianca the night before she left for New Orleans. The betrayal. The confrontation that had pretty much ended their friendship. The truth was, she missed her. She hated to admit it. Not Bianca per se—but the friendship. The camaraderie. The peace of having someone who was a constant in her life. It depressed her in a way that she couldn’t quite explain, even to herself.
Leo drove in comfortable silence, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gearshift. The stereo played soft jazz, something mellow and contemporary. As they merged onto I-80, the vineyards gave way to rolling hills. Remi watched as the scenery changed, and she felt the shift. Her thoughts were still caught between the winery and Bianca, between what was unfinished and what had already been undone.
Leo glanced at her. “You hungry? We can stop before we hit the city.”
She shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe later.”
He nodded and kept driving. They passed the familiar markers—Vallejo and Berkeley, and then the curve of the Bay Bridge rose ahead. The San Francisco skyline loomed in the distance.
As the car crossed the bridge, Remi finally spoke. “I keep thinking about Bianca, and everything that went down.”
Leo didn’t look away from the road, but his voice was soft. “Has to be pretty devastating.”
She stared out the window. “It’s like … I don’t recognize my life anymore.”
“Understandable. Grief happens in many forms. Not only are you grieving Gerard’s death, but now you’re also grieving your friendship with Bianca. Whether you fix it or not, it’s still painful.”
Remi gave him a look. “There’s no fixing this.”
Leo shrugged, as if he didn’t believe her words, as if they had no meaning.
Remi nodded slowly. “It’s overwhelming.”
Leo reached for her hand, gave it a tight squeeze. They were quiet again as the bridge carried them into the city. San Francisco welcomed them—the hills, the noise, the hustle and bustle. As they exited the Bay Bridge and merged into the city streets, Leo leaned forward, scanning for the next turn.
“My meeting is in SoMa,” he said referring to San Francisco’s South of Market neighborhood and glancing at his watch. “Not until noon, but I figured we’d get here early.”
Remi nodded and watched the city come alive around them. Cafés opening for lunch, cyclists weaving between parked cars, people in business suits walking briskly down busy sidewalks, coffee cups in hand.