Sophia wasn't terrified of many things.

But Gemma was one of them.

She watched as the tiny blonde raced across the lawn, shuttling cases of Blush Wine and decorative wooden crates. Gemma was speaking quickly into a headset. An actual headset. Around her, guests were sprawled out on lawn chairs, sipping glasses of rosé that sparkled golden in the fading light.

Finn sighed, watching his sister. "She's losing it."

"Someone should go help her," Sophia observed.

"Yeah."

They both stood by the refreshments table, like the cowards that they were. Sophia bumped his shoulder. "The launch is going well, isn't it?"

Blush Wines was now a proudly operating winery. The stone building was shaped like a plank of wood resting on top of two blocks, and the open space featured an outdoor dining area, a waterfall, and several porch swings and throw blankets. Patchwork fields spread out below them, stitched together with wooden fence posts.

Finn's eyes softened. "She couldn't have done this without you, you know."

"Are you kidding?" Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Gemma can do anything."

"Well, it would have taken longer," Finn amended. "And it wouldn't have looked nearly as good." He kissed her forehead. "All those nights we spent staring at eggshell tiles and cream tiles and bone white tiles finally paid off."

Sophia arched an eyebrow. "Can I get that in writing?"

"Don't push it, Toronto."

They watched as Gemma loaded a terrified Cam up with green vines, directing him towards the winery. He staggered slightly, unable to see over the towering pile of plastic. Finn set down his champagne glass.

"Okay, I'm going in," he said. "Wish me luck."

She squeezed his hand. "Be brave."

"I'll try."

Sophia shielded her eyes, watching as Finn marched towards Cam. Nearby, Saoirse and Bev were sitting on striped chairs, squabbling over something to do with butter tarts. Saoirse was shaking her first, although Sophia noticed that she had purposefully given Bev the cushier chair with the pillows.

Not that the Irish woman would ever admit to it.

Sophia made her way across the lawn, stopping when she reached a group of three girls. The brunette was sizing up six neatly arranged wine bottles, a ball in her hand. Sophia watched, amused, as Louise threw it across the lawn, cheering as it knocked over all the bottles.

"A strike!" Louise crowed. "That's three in a row, baby."

Ella pulled a face. "Isn't there a name for that?"

"A flamingo," Ophelia threw in. "It's definitely a flamingo."

"No, it's not," Louise said.

Ophelia frowned. "An emu?"

"It's a turkey," Sophia said, settling on a nearby hay bale. "Not that Louise has one. She's definitely been cheating."

"I have not!" Louise protested.

"You're bowling downhill," Sophia pointed out. "That's cheating."

Louise crossed her arms. "It's strategy."

"It's cheating," a male voice said. "Sorry, Lou."

Max Bentley appeared next to them, a whirl of brown curls and tattoos peeking out from beneath his suit jacket. He ruffled his younger sister's hair. Louise scowled up at him with the same green eyes that he had, swatting his hand away.

"Who invited you again?" Louise asked.

"I did," Ella said.

"But why?"

Ella sucked in her cheeks. "Because we're dating." She stretched up on her toes to kiss Max's cheek. "But also because I need someone to carry my phone for me. Do you know how hard it is to find a dress with pockets?"

"Terrible," Ophelia agreed. "Speaking of which." She held out her phone to Max. "Can you take mine, too?"

"Me, too," Louise said.

"I am a walking container," he sighed. "A container for phones."

Still, Max took both phones with the dignified-but-reluctant air of the Queen's personal assistant scooping up poop from the royal corgis. "Actually, Elliephant—"

"I hate that name," Ella muttered.

"I know." He shot her a cheeky grin. "I came to get you for photos. That terrifying blonde woman—"

"Gemma," Sophia supplied.

"Right. Gemma." Max nodded. "She thinks a picture of us at the launch party will help boost sales, or something."

"Oh." Ella's brow wrinkled. "Okay."

Sophia smiled inwardly. Even now, Max and Ella were flabbergasted that their visit to a winery would mean that other people would want to visit, too; they might be world-famous singers, but when Gemma had announced that "celebrities" would be at the party, Ella had called Sophia to ask who it was.

"It's you, idiot," Sophia told her. "And Max."

"Oh." Ella sighed. "I hoped it was Bono, or something."

Now, Sophia watched as Max took Ella's hand, tugging her towards the pink wall lined with bottles of wine and green vines. Louise set down her bowling ball.

"I'm going, too," Louise announced. "To flirt with the cute photographer."

She skipped up the hill, clutching a wine glass in each hand. Ophelia took a sip of her rosé, shielding her eyes as they watched her. "Should we tell her that the photographer is already dating Gemma?"

"Nah," Sophia said.

"Poor Cam," Ophelia said. "He won't know what hit him."

Sophia bumped her cousin on the hip. "Last few nights in Canada, huh? And then you leave for London."

Ophelia was studying abroad at UCL for the year, and while Sophia would miss her, she was fiercely proud of her cousin for getting a scholarship. She deserved it. Although with the look on Ophelia's face, you'd think they were discussing her impending execution.

"Don't get me started." Ophelia groaned. "I'm woefully underprepared. My bags are so overweight."

Sophia smiled. "That's because you're trying to bring all of your books."

"Only half of them," Ophelia said defensively.

"So that's, what? Fifty?"

Ophelia ignored the question. "You're coming to visit me in London, right?"

"Obviously."

"You must know people there." Ophelia kicked the bowling ball around idly. "In London, I mean. From traveling for business and things."

"Only one," Sophia said, thinking of Andrew Hazelton-Scott. "And you don't want to meet him." She frowned. "Trust me."

Ophelia arched an eyebrow. "Now I'm intrigued."

"Don't be."

Sophia squinted up at the winery, smiling as she caught a flash of blond hair collapsing on to a porch swing. Perfect. She had been searching for the perfect opportunity to speak to Finn alone, and now she had it. She plucked a second glass of wine off a passing tray, and Ophelia raised an eyebrow.

"Double fisting?" Ophelia asked.

She shook her head. "One's for Finn."

"Go on, then," Ophelia said, jerking her head towards the winery. "I'll catch up with you later."

Sophia shot her a grateful smile. She began the long hike up the hill, huffing slightly as she went. God, this thing was steep. Who needed a gym membership when you could just climb Bashaw's answer to Mount Everest?

Finn looked up as she approached. He was slumped on a swing, his long legs dangling off the edge. His cheeks were flushed red, although whether from alcohol, moving crates of wine, or shouting at his sister, Sophia couldn't have said.

"Here." She passed him the wine. "You've earned it."

"Gemma's trying to kill me," Finn announced. "And she's succeeding."

"Poor baby," Sophia crooned. "Did she put you to work, then?" She climbed on to the swing, curling up on his chest. "She can be cruel."

"I can't even feel my arms."

"Really?" Sophia kissed his shoulder. "What about now?"

Finn made a noise. "That's definitely helping."

They lapsed into silence for a moment. She inhaled the scent of pine, listening to his heart beating steadily under her ear. Finn stroked circles on her arm, but his mind was clearly a million miles away. She shifted slightly.

"What is it?" Sophia asked.

"I just can't believe you're leaving soon."

Sophia closed her eyes. She would just say it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. "Actually, I was thinking of sticking around for a little longer." Casual. She was striving for casual. "For the next two years, to be exact."

Finn's hand stilled. "You are?"

"Yup."

"Two years?"

"If that's okay," Sophia said.

She hadn't been nervous to apply to study full-time at the University of Calgary — her application was strong, and she'd managed to secure a financial loan — but she was nervous, now. Finn's arms tightened around her. His expression was blank. Unreadable.

"Don't freak out," Sophia continued quickly. "It's not just about you, obviously. Calgary has a great business program. And Gemma still needs help with running Blush Wine's social media, so I figured—"

"Sophia," Finn said.

"—if I stayed here, I could—"

"Soph."

"—lend a hand until—"

"Soph!"

She paused, breathless. Finn's eyes were the blue of summer skies, and he set down his wine, shifting so that Sophia was fully in his lap.

"I want you to stay," Finn murmured.

"You do?"

"Of course." Finn kissed her neck. "Saoirse always gives me extra biscuits when you come with me. And I'm very attached to extra biscuits."

"Hmm."

"What do you say?" Finn pulled back, studying her face. "Fancy getting a matcha latte with me tomorrow?"

Sophia cupped his jaw. "I'd like that. But I'm going to get a coffee."

His brow furrowed. "A coffee?"

"Or a hot chocolate," Sophia mused. "Or an iced chai latte. Or whatever the hell I'm in the mood for. And you know what?" She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm not going to post a picture of it."

"You know what?" Finn kissed her nose. "I like the sound of that."

Sophia leaned back against his chest. Hazy light dipped the lawn in liquid gold, and shrieks of laughter drifted up to them as children clambered over the hay bales. Bugs gathered around the lanterns. Grasshoppers hummed in the stillness. And then the burning sun dipped below the horizon, plunging the scene into night.