5- Boston

I shouldn’t have texted with her. I should have told her right away that I wasn’t Chad. I almost forgot she thought I was until that last text came in.

Beautiful Accountant: Enjoy your work. Goodnight, Chad.

I sat back in Dad’s chair, the loud groan of the hinges sending a wave of deep sadness rolling through me. The single lamp was on over the desk, and the room was otherwise dark and quiet. Seeing my phone light up with El’s name had brightened the place—and my evening—but the brutal reminder that she didn’t even know who she was texting dimmed things considerably.

That and the news that she was going to quit.

It was probably that information that had stopped me from coming clean. She was leaving anyway, and though Solano Creek wasn’t a big place, I spent all my time at West Wines or Cunning Ham Winery. The odds I’d ever see her again felt miniscule. And who knew if she was even staying here? I knew nothing about Isabel Watson.

Nothing except that she was beautiful. And smart. And t