Chapter 18 — Tastes of Yesterday
519 Words
Later that morning, the sun kissed the vineyard with golden light. Dominic stood barefoot in the old kitchen, sleeves rolled up, whisking pancake batter like it was the most important deal he’d ever closed.
Marina sat at the small wooden table, chin resting on her palm as she watched him.
“You cook now?” she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.
He glanced over his shoulder with a crooked grin. “I cooked before. You just never stayed long enough to see it.”
“I suppose I missed a lot,” she said quietly.
Dominic paused, then turned the stove down and walked over to her. He knelt, resting his forearms on her thighs.
“You didn’t miss it. You survived it.”
Her hand moved to his cheek. He leaned into it without hesitation.
“I was so afraid you’d hate me,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “That you’d see me as just a thief… or worse.”
“I did,” he admitted softly. “For a long time. I hated the idea of you. But the truth? I never stopped loving you, Marina. I just didn’t know if you were real.”
Her eyes filled, but she didn’t look away.
“I never meant to deceive you.”
“I believe you now,” he said. “I didn’t before. But seeing you here… being with you again, like this… I can finally breathe.”
He rose and pulled her into a slow embrace, arms wrapping around her as if he could shield her from the entire world.
She melted into him.
Outside, the wind rustled through the vines like it was singing for them. The scent of lemon balm and early grapes drifted through the air. In the distance, a hawk called out, but here—wrapped in each other’s arms—it felt like time had stopped.
They ate breakfast on the porch.
Dominic poured her coffee just the way she used to like it. Marina buttered his toast, humming the tune of an old lullaby neither of them could quite place.
At one point, their hands brushed reaching for the honey.
Neither pulled away.
Instead, their fingers tangled slowly, deliberately.
Like they were remembering.
Like they were forgiving.
Afterward, they wandered the rows of vines hand in hand, sunlight dappling their skin.
Dominic stopped by an old trellis overgrown with roses and stared at it, thoughtful.
“This was supposed to be where we renewed our vows. If the marriage had been real.”
Marina looked up at the tangled blossoms.
She stepped forward, took his hand again, and said softly, “Maybe we don’t need vows yet. But… I’d like to make a promise.”
He turned to her, eyes dark and steady. “I’m listening.”
“I promise not to run anymore. I promise to stay… as long as you’ll have me.”
He didn’t smile. Not right away. Instead, he drew her close again, brushed a kiss over her temple, and whispered:
“Then stay forever.”
End of Chapter 18.
- Writer
