She considers this for a moment, her head tilting slightly, then sighs dramatically. "Fine, I'll take the surprise and stop asking. Happy now?"
"Extremely," I say, reaching her and picking up her bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Then I cup her face with my free hand and kiss her, slow and deep, savoring it before we have to go back to being careful. When I pull back she's flushed and a little breathless. "Let's go, Princess."
She smiles, and we make our way through the vineyard together. The morning is beautiful, the sun already warm on our shoulders. We eventually reach the stone path that surrounds the main building.
Margot's outside alone on the terrace as we pass by, sitting at one of the small wrought-iron tables, sipping a coffee with papers spread out before. She spots us and waves us over.
"Well, well, well," she says, smiling as we climb up the terrace steps. "Where are you two off to? You both look suspiciously happy for this early in the morning."
Isabelle told Margot about us a few days ago. She's the only one who knows about us at Solstice, our secret keeper and occasional co-conspirator.
Isabelle laughs, reaching the top of the steps. "Alex is surprising me for our day off, so I'm just along for the ride and trying very hard not to demand answers."
Margot nods approvingly, setting down her coffee cup. "Nice initiative, Alex. I approve. And while you're at it, can you please tell my last date that saying 'Uhhhh, I dunno, where doyouwant to go?' is not the romantic gesture he seems to think it is?"
"I think you'd better just drop that guy," I say, leaning against the terrace railing. "That's a bad sign right out of the gate. If he can't plan a single date, imagine trying to plan a life with him."
She throws up her hands in exasperation. "You'd be absolutely right on that assessment. It's slim pickings out there in the dating world. Truly abysmal."
Isabelle perches on the edge of Margot's table, stealing a grape from the small bowl sitting there. "That’s so annoying. You're going to have to give me way more details when we get back tomorrow. He looked sweet when he stopped by with flowers the other day, what a shame."
Margot nods, her expression turning rueful. "I know, right? And on paper he's perfect—he's a philanthropist, reads actual books instead of just scrolling his phone. But sadly boring as hell in person and seemed completely incapable of any initiative. Plus he kinda reminded me of my ex-husband, which is never a good sign."
"I didn't know you were married," I say, genuinely surprised. Margot can't be more than twenty-five, maybe twenty-six at most, and gives the impression of someone completely married to her job, living and breathing Solstice Estates.
Margot nods. "Yeah, a very brief and spectacularly ill-advised marriage during college. We were both on the student activities board together and thought we had everything figured out at twenty-two. Spoiler alert: we did not. It went south pretty fast, lasted about eighteen months total before we both admitted it was a mistake."
"He didn't deserve you," Isabelle says firmly. "I don't care what the circumstances were."
Margot smiles. "You didn't even know him."
"You've told me enough and he sounded like an ass," Isabelle says. "And I know you, which means I'm not sure any man could possibly deserve you. You're exceptional."
"That's very sweet, if statistically improbable," Margot says, laughing. "But flattering as it may be, I do miss having someone to come home to at the end of a long day. Though preferably someone who is nicer than my ex was. Someone to share thingswith, you know?" She turns to me with exaggerated hopefulness. "You don't happen to have any single brothers, do you Alex? Preferably ones who can make decisions and plan dates without having an existential crisis?"
I laugh, running a hand through my hair. "I've got four brothers plus a half-brother, but sadly they're all back in Washington, and four of them are married already. Well, Dominic and Brooke are technically engaged, but the small courthouse wedding plans are actively underway, so I don't think you can really count him as available anymore."
"Hmph," she says, slumping back in her chair dramatically. "Guess I'll just marry myself then. Be very selfish and romantic with myself, take myself on excellent dates, never be disappointed."
Isabelle laughs. "Well, before you commit to permanent solitude, you should hang out with Alex and me on our next movie night! We were planning to watch something tomorrow. That'd be fun, right?"
Isabelle looks at me expectantly. I nod and smile, though selfishly my time here in Napa with Isabelle is so limited and precious that I hoard every moment we get alone together like a dragon with gold.
Margot perks up visibly at that. "That could actually be really fun! I never get out lately with work consuming my entire life and soul, besides the occasional failed dating attempt that makes me want to become a hermit. Maybe we could watch something really scary? I'm a total baby about horror movies so I never actually watch them, but with other people there it might be tolerable."
"Ooooh, you're a real daredevil," Isabelle teases, and I laugh.
"Mock me all you want, but I stand by my fear," Margot says primly. "Some of us have healthy self-preservation instincts."
"We'll protect you from the fictional monsters," I assure her solemnly.
"Well, I'll let you two go," Margot says, shooing us away with her hands. "Can't wait to hear all about whatever you planned, Alex. And Isabelle, I expect a full debriefing when you get back. Full details. Don't spare anything."
"Of course, but you’ll have to tell me about your date first," Isabelle says affectionately, and we wave goodbye and make our way to the parking lot.
I automatically step back from Isabelle slightly, putting a careful few feet between us, walking separately like we're just colleagues carpooling. It's become second nature at this point, this constant awareness of who might see us and what they might think. The space between us feels wrong, makes my skin itch, but it's necessary. For now.
We've been driving for about forty-five minutes, heading west toward the coast, and Isabelle puts on music—a French indie band I don't recognize but immediately like—and rolls down the windows. The day is sunny and perfect with a warm breeze drifting through the car.