"Not on account of me, no. Shane and Grayson have something to work out. I won't get in the way of that." I'd be gone soon enough, but Shane would always be Grayson's brother. I refused to be the reason Grayson didn't give him a chance to—at the very least—explain himself. Whatever physical interest Grayson had in me was long gone. And I could see why. Who could compete with Vanessa? She was beautiful inside and out, and I felt like the witch Grayson called me—ugly, ragged, and excluded. No one ever wanted to be with the witch, after all. Not in the end.

Charlotte came bustling into the kitchen a few minutes later, shooting nervous looks between Vanessa and me. Since Shane and Vanessa had arrived, I hadn't gotten any alone time with Charlotte, but whenever I did see her, she seemed to be wringing her hands and saying prayers under her breath. It didn’t give me a lot of confidence this situation would turn out well.

Vanessa, Charlotte, and I went over the lists in detail and split up the tasks. "Now who's going to help me make a butterscotch peanut butter cake? Shane requested it—it's his favorite," she said delightedly.

"Oh, I'll help," Vanessa said. "I need to learn the recipe so I can bake it for him myself sometimes."

Charlotte grabbed two aprons from the drawer, handing one to Vanessa and offering one to me. "Oh, next time, Charlotte," I said. "I need to go outside and make a list of items that have to be accomplished there." But really, I realized Charlotte and Vanessa deserved time together. I was only going to be here for a short time, while Vanessa was a true part of this family. At the thought, the sharp ache in my heart seemed almost excessive, but it was there nonetheless. Charlotte looked at me with sympathy, but nodded, almost sadly. I couldn't be angry with her. She knows I'm temporary. Vanessa would be here forever, whereas I would be leaving soon. It was more important that Charlotte help build a bridge between Shane, Vanessa, and Grayson than try to push Grayson and me together more permanently. It would be a wasted effort anyway. Perhaps she'd finally realized that.

Feeling alone and melancholy, I wandered outside to look at the façade of the house. I had a crew of gardeners scheduled to work the rest of the week. Getting the grounds looking decent was going to take quite a bit of work. The house was going to look so much better once the ivy was cut back. I jotted down the few things I thought could be accomplished to the outside of the house in time and then turned to walk behind it to make some notes about that area. I would love to open up the back patio and get the pool cleaned if possible. I imagined twinkle lights strung in the trees, casting a magical, fairy-tale glow . . .

For a moment I stood there, picturing the scene, my gaze rising to the rows of grapevines beyond. Why did I feel this desperate longing inside? I thought about what Grayson was doing right now, how much I was growing to love this vineyard and the people who lived and worked here. I thought about how I'd imagined Grayson and I were moving in the direction of . . . what, Kira? Love? Is that what I had secretly begun to hope for? An emotion not unlike dread clenched my gut and I walked a few steps so I could lean against a nearby elm tree, closing my eyes in misery. I had the terrible feeling that, somewhere along the way, I had fallen in love with my husband. There was no other explanation for the agony I was feeling at his sudden cold indifference, and the possibility that he was still in love with another woman.

Staring out at the afternoon sun glinting on the grapevines, I admitted, only to myself—only ever to myself—that maybe I had even fallen in love with Grayson Hawthorn the first moment I'd laid eyes on him. My knight in shining armor standing in front of that bank, the promise that he would save me, and I, him, flowing through my heart like a secret whisper.

Oh God, this was a disaster.

An epic disaster.

I wanted to run, to flee from these feelings, from these realizations. And I knew that was exactly what I would do just as soon as the party was over. I couldn't stay here knowing I could fall even more head over heels for my husband at any moment. He'd never love me back. Instead, the pain of his unrequited love would slowly drive me to desolation until I could no longer find any joy in life.

My desperate thoughts were cut off when I saw a lone figure walking around the perimeter of the hedge maze below me. I squinted, recognizing Shane. Hesitating only briefly, I put the list and pen in the back pocket of my jean shorts and walked down the hill to join him.

"Hey," I said softly. He spun around, obviously startled, letting out a quick breath.

"Hey, Kira." He smiled.

"Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"No, no, just deep in thought, I guess." He sat down on a stone bench next to him and gestured for me to sit as well. I did, leaning my palms behind me.

Looking at the maze next to us, I said, "It's really incredible. You must have had fun in it as kids."

Shane let out a breath, running his hand through his hair like Grayson sometimes did. His expression was slightly pained. "God, no. My father would walk us to the middle once it'd turned dark and have us find our way out. He tortured us with this godforsaken thing."

I felt the blood drain from my face and I turned toward Shane. "Why?" I croaked.

He shrugged and shook his head, looking suddenly like a little boy. "Who knows why my father did what he did? He had ideas about how to make men out of us. That was one of them. Of course, Grayson got the brunt of it, being the oldest." He paused, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I could hear Grayson out here crying for our dad, trying to find his way out, night after night." Misery swept over his expression as if he were back there again, hearing his brother call out for help, being unable to do anything about it. I sat up, wrapping my arms around myself.