THEY WORKED WELL TOGETHER, complementing each other’s skills. He did the heavy lifting. She did the final touches.
After Enzo placed the last print on the wall, he glanced around the room. His gaze settled on Sylvie as she arranged some mementos in one of the lighted glass cases. The winery looked as it had before. No. Sylvie’s little adjustment here and there had made it look picture perfect.
It was late in the evening when Enzo said, “That’s it for tonight.”
He noticed that Sylvie didn’t argue.
He led the way to the exit. He paused by the door and flipped off the lights in the winery. He knew he wouldn’t sleep that night, not with all the thoughts darting about his mind. Still, it was no reason to keep Sylvie from getting some rest.
Darkness fell over the building as they stepped outside. He typed the code into the security pad before turning back to Sylvie. In the moonlight she looked like an enchantress. And it’d be so easy to forget all the reasons he shouldn’t hold her close and kiss her like he’d wanted to the other day.
Instead, he started to walk. To head to the main house, he would need to walk straight ahead but instead he turned down the path to the left and continued moving toward the guesthouse. In silence they walked in the moonlight. His thoughts were filled with memories of another night when he’d been along with Sylvie. It had been an evening they’d thrown caution to the wind. It was a night they wouldn’t repeat.
All too soon they were standing outside Sylvie’s door. He turned to her. “Thank you for all your help today.”
“You’re welcome. But I think it should be me thanking you since this photo shoot was my idea.”
“I know I wasn’t thrilled with the idea in the beginning. And I’m sorry.”
“And now?”
“Now…” His thoughts swept back over the day and all that had happened. “I think it was a good idea. The perfect way to say goodbye—to this place.” He was quick to add the last bit because no matter what, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her.
Having Sylvie walk out of his life would be harder than saying goodbye to his childhood home. But he supposed he deserved it, after sitting on his family’s explosive secret all those years.
“Enzo, what is it?” Sylvie’s voice was soft.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
She opened the door. “Come in.”
“It’s too late. And with us heading into the city tomorrow, you’ll want to get some rest.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
In the moonlight he could make out the outline of her face but he couldn’t read her eyes. He’d be willing to guess that there was a look of disbelief in them. But that was okay. This was all his problem, not hers.
When she stepped inside, she flipped on the lights. He’d just turned to walk away when they were plunged back into darkness.
“What in the world?” The sound of the light switch being flipped on and off filled the air.
Enzo immediately spun around. “Let me see.”
The only problem was that it was pitch-dark inside the house and when he went to step through the doorway, he bumped into Sylvie. He immediately reached out to steady her. He pulled her to him, perhaps with more urgency than was necessary because all of a sudden her body was pressed against his.
In that moment he hesitated. He didn’t want to let her go and she didn’t seem interested in going anywhere. The thought of kissing her came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. And here in the dark, who would know?
They would know. He would know. He didn’t deserve Sylvie. She was the most kindhearted—the most generous—the most caring woman he’d ever known. And she deserved someone better than him. She deserved someone who faced challenges no matter how great and protected the people they loved. That wasn’t him.
The thought doused the burning embers within him. He swallowed hard. “I…uh…should see what the problem is.”
It was with great reluctance that he moved past her. She was quiet. If she knew of the torment going on within him, she didn’t say a word.
Having memorized his way through most of the buildings on the estate over the years, he made his way to the kitchen. He felt around the wall for the light switch. He flicked it on and there was once again light.
He turned back to Sylvie, who was still in the shadows. “Looks like you have a burnt-out light. Which is strange because there should be two bulbs in that light fixture.”
“Well, there are.” There was some hesitancy in her voice. “The one bulb burnt out the other day, but I didn’t get around to changing it.”
“I see. No problem. I’ll have it fixed for you in no time.”
“But you don’t have to bother tonight. You must be tired.”
“I doubt I’ll sleep tonight.” The words had slipped past his lips before he realized he was saying too much. Sylvie would want to know why he wasn’t sleeping, and he wasn’t up for revealing his past. The day of looking at old photos and taking a stroll down memory lane had been more than enough for him. And most of all, he just didn’t want to disappoint Sylvie. She thought he was a nice guy, a good guy, and he wanted to remain that in her eyes.
And so he set to work, locating the items he would need. He knew someone else could tend to this in the morning, but he wanted to take care of Sylvie, just as she was trying to care for him by showing him what he would be giving up by selling the estate. Perhaps the gestures were not on the same scale, but he was doing what was needed in the moment.
A few minutes later he had the bulbs replaced. It was time to make his exit before he lost his head once again. But when he looked around, he didn’t see Sylvie anywhere.
“Sylvie, everything is done.” When there was no response, he said, “Sylvie?”
“Back here.”
He walked to the back of the house, where the living room had been moved to make space for the wedding business in the front rooms. He found Sylvie seated on the couch.
She patted the cushion next to her. “Come have a seat.”
He checked his wristwatch. “I… I don’t think so.” The truth was he didn’t trust himself being that close to her. “It’s really late.”
“But you said you wouldn’t sleep tonight.”
That was true. He hadn’t meant to tell her but it was too late to walk it back now. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve made you something to help you sleep.” When he still didn’t move—still didn’t trust his judgment in this exhausted state—she said, “Come.”
There was a firmness to her voice—the same sort of tone his mother would use when she meant business. It was amazing the things his mother could get people to do without raising her voice. Sylvie had that same poise and command. Someday she’d make a good mother. Of that he was certain.
And so he took a seat next to her, leaving a respectable distance between them. He couldn’t help but feel this was a mistake, but he remained seated.
Sylvie held out a red mug. “Here. Drink this.”
When he reached for it, their fingers brushed. A rush of anticipation electrified his body and it had absolutely nothing to do with the drink. His gaze met hers. He felt himself once more slipping under her spell. Enzo glanced away before it was too late. He stared down at the white frothy drink, knowing that any chance he’d had at getting some sleep was now officially gone.
He swallowed hard. “What is it?”
“It’s some warmed milk that my mother would make for me whenever I was worked up from a nightmare or the night before a big test.” She took a sip from her own cup.
He lifted the mug. The first thing that struck him was its soft fragrance. He wasn’t sure about drinking it. He eyed up Sylvie as she took another healthy sip. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, because he was quite certain at this late hour she really didn’t feel like going to all this bother, he took a small sip.
He swallowed. “This isn’t warmed milk. Well, it’s not just milk.”
She smiled and nodded. “It has some honey, vanilla and a touch of lavender. Plus a few other things. Do you like it?”
“I…ah…” His lips pursed together as he considered the answer. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t love it, either. “It’s so unique. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like it before.”
“Just keep sipping it. Trust me, it’ll help relax you.” She frowned at him. “You can’t relax when you’re perched on the edge of the couch as though you’re ready to spring out the door at any moment. Sit back and relax.”
This most definitely wasn’t a good idea, but he was already sitting in her living room at this late hour; why not just lean back? It wasn’t like she was going to throw herself into his arms. Was she? The thought definitely appealed to him.
Every muscle in his body was tense as he slid back over the cushion. And even when he was fully on the couch, he couldn’t lean back. He sat fully upright, staying on guard, not letting down his defenses because he knew how easy it was to forget about circumstances when Sylvie was in his vicinity.
“Do you think there’s anything that will change your mind about selling the place?”
It was the first time she’d come straight out and asked him the question. The answer that rushed to the back of his throat was one she didn’t want to hear. He shifted his gaze to the contents of the mug. It might not be his favorite drink but it was better than having to speak and see the disappointment in Sylvie’s eyes.
He held the mug to his lips and drank; all the while he could feel Sylvie’s gaze upon him. Why couldn’t she just give this up? But he knew she was waiting for an answer. The woman definitely had a lot of tenacity.
He lowered the mug. “No. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Is there anything I can say or do—?”
“No, Sylvie. This is what has to be done.” The debate of keeping the estate or letting go of the ghosts of the past churned within him. “You just don’t understand.”
“I would, if you told me.” Her voice was soft but not forceful.
The secret he’d been holding in all these years came rushing forward, teetering on the edge of his tongue. He hadn’t told anyone because he was ashamed. But maybe if he wanted to let go of the ghosts, he needed to be up-front with her. If he could trust anyone, it was Sylvie.
Not giving himself time to back out of this confession, he turned to her. In her eyes he saw caring and sympathy. He wasn’t worthy of either. That undid his final bit of hesitation.
“Sylvie, I know this place means a lot to you, but to me, it is filled with ghosts of the past. Lies and secrets that I just can’t live with anymore. I need to move on—to start over.”
“But wasn’t all of that dealt with when Bianca found your mother’s journal?”
“No.” That single-syllable word hung in the nighttime air with all its possible implications.
He raked his fingers through his hair. Why did she keep pushing? She wasn’t going to like what she uncovered. He wasn’t the upstanding guy that she thought he was.
Sylvie scooted closer on the couch. She reached out, placing her hand on his thigh. It was all he could do not to jump back. Her touch was gentle and warm as she attempted to put him at ease. But didn’t she realize what he’d been trying to tell her? He didn’t deserve her kindness and understanding.
He jumped to his feet. He placed his mug on the end table. “I have to go.”
“Enzo, wait.” She rushed over to him. “I’m sorry. I pushed and I shouldn’t have done that. Please forgive me.”
Frustration and guilt churned in his gut. “Stop!”
Confusion clouded her eyes. “I’m sorry. I keep saying the wrong things.”
“No. Stop apologizing. You haven’t done anything wrong. I have. I don’t deserve your sympathy. If you knew…”
The words hung there. The sentence went unfinished because he just couldn’t bring himself to finish it—to ruin the illusion she had of him.
“We won’t speak of it anymore.” She reached for his hand and gave it a gentle tug. “Let’s sit back down. You didn’t finish your milk.”
While his body followed her, his mind said he was making yet another mistake. He should head for the door. And yet, he kept taking one step after the other until he was seated on the couch next to her again.
Sylvie reached for her mug and then took a sip. “You should finish drinking yours before it goes cold. It’s not as good then.”
He reached for his abandoned mug. The sooner he finished it, the sooner he could leave and be alone with his thoughts.
“If you don’t want to head into the city tomorrow,” Sylvie said, “I can go alone.”
He’d given his word and he intended to keep it. “I’ll be ready to go first thing in the morning.”
“But you’ll be tired—”
“So will you.” He wanted her to quit being so nice to him because it just made him feel worse.
But if he were to tell her the truth—tell her the deep, dark secret that he’d been keeping for years, then she’d realize she didn’t have to work so hard to be nice to him. In fact, she’d probably be anxious to leave the estate and start over somewhere else—just like his sisters had done after the journal had revealed the fractures in their perfect family.
“If you ever want to talk,” she said, “I mean really talk, I’m a good listener.”
“Sylvie, stop.” He didn’t look at her. He knew if he did, he’d never get the words out. “You don’t understand what’s going on.”
“I will,” she said ever so softly, “if you tell me.”
“I knew.”
The words popped out before he could stop them. It was the first time he’d made a vocal admission.
Sylvie’s fine brows drew together. “Knew what?”
He’d told her this much, he might as well get this over with and let the pieces fall as they may. “I knew my parents’ secret—that one of us was illegitimate.”
“You mean from reading the journal?”
He shook his head as he stared blindly down at the milky mixture that remained in his mug. “I knew years before my sisters read the journal.”
“Oh…” Her breathy response was more of a wow response.
“As you know, I’m the oldest. And when we were kids, I got to stay up a little later than my sisters. It was only a half hour but to me it was a big deal—something Bianca and Gia didn’t get to do. During that time, I would read in bed.” In his mind’s eye, he could see that night so clearly that it was as though he were still there. “I can’t remember which book I was reading but it was one of those that you keep telling yourself you’ll put down and go to sleep after one more page.”
Sylvie didn’t say a word. She didn’t move. She just sat there taking in everything he was saying. And he knew in the end she would look at him with disappointment and think he was a coward. Rightly so.
He drew in an uneven breath. “I knew it was late. Really late. And I heard some yelling. I was surprised because my mother always made a point of not raising her voice. She said yelling wasn’t necessary to get your point across. And then I heard a door slam.”
He wished he’d stayed in bed—that he’d gone to sleep when he was supposed to instead of shining a flashlight on his book and reading under the covers, because then he wouldn’t have overheard something that impacted so many choices he’d made in his life.
“I was supposed to have been asleep hours ago, but when I heard the shouting and the door slam, I thought something was wrong. In bare feet, I ran down the hall toward my parents’ room. I didn’t have to put my ear against the door because they were talking loud enough to be heard through the closed door.”
He paused as he gathered his thoughts. Part of him wanted to stop here—to shove away the memory that had been troubling him most of his life—but the other part of him needed to say this—to put it out into the universe.
He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his insides. And then, ever so slowly, he blew out the breath. “I heard my mother say she needed to tell us that my father wasn’t the biological father of us all. Some of the words were muffled with her sobs. But then my mother said she’d messed up by having that affair and how guilty she felt.” Enzo paused, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “My father told her she couldn’t tell us—that we were too young to understand. And then she mentioned me and how I wasn’t a little boy any longer. But my father said it wasn’t fair to tell me a secret that I couldn’t tell my sisters.”
Sylvie reached out, placing her hand on his arm. It was a quiet gesture—a caring touch. And it gave him the strength to finish.
“I’m not sure how long I stood there, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. My mother had an affair. And at the time, I was certain I was the illegitimate child. Why else would she have mentioned my name?”
“It must have been such a shock.”
He nodded. “My mind was reeling. I wasn’t a Bartolini. I didn’t belong.”
“Did you approach your parents?”
He shook his head. “I went to bed that night and eventually I fell asleep. In the morning my parents acted totally normal. And being a kid, I was able to convince myself that it was just a dream. But deep inside I knew it was so much more than a dream.”
“And so all of these years you’ve been dealing with that on your own? Without being able to talk to anyone?”
“But it isn’t about me. It’s about my sisters. I was too ashamed—too worried about my own feelings—to speak up. But I should have said something. I should have done something.”
“You were just a kid. That’s a lot to handle.”
He raked his fingers through his hair once more. Frustration over his inaction and anger at his lack of courage twisted his gut up in a knot. “I can’t hide behind that excuse. I had a chance to speak up when my sisters found that journal. And yet, I kept the awful secret to myself. I didn’t think of how it would eat at them—the not knowing.”
Sylvie’s hand slid down his arm until her fingers brushed over his palm. The sensation sent a sizzling sense of awareness zinging up his arm. Her fingers slipped between his as she squeezed his hand.
“I know your sisters wouldn’t blame you for being shocked when the secret came out. It had been years and you’d convinced yourself that it was a dream.”
“But I should have said something. I was ashamed that I wasn’t a Bartolini. I was scared they wouldn’t look at me as their big brother. I didn’t want our relationship to change. I thought if I sat on the information that I’d have a little longer until the DNA results revealed the inevitable—I wasn’t a biological Bartolini.”
“You’d just lost your parents—you were afraid of losing your sisters.”
“That’s not good enough.” He pulled away from her and stood. His gaze drifted to the floor. “If I was a good brother—if I’d have protected my sisters the way my father had always told me to do—I would have spoken up.”
Sylvie placed her fingers beneath his chin and lifted until their gazes met. “Maybe you should have spoken up sooner, but what you would have told them would have been misinformation. You are a Bartolini by blood. Perhaps it would have been worse for your sisters believing one thing, only to find out it wasn’t the truth.”
“But if I’d have had the courage to speak up all those years ago, my parents could have talked to us. They could have explained their actions. Now we’re left with guessing at their motives.”
“And this is why you’re selling the estate? You don’t feel that you deserve it?”
He shrugged. “My sisters both moved away and started over. It’s time I do the same thing.”
“Have you told your sisters all of this?”
He shook his head. “I can’t.” His sisters were all the family he had in this world. “I can’t risk losing them.”
“Do you really think that will happen? Because I don’t. I know your sisters love you as much as you love them. And nothing will break you apart.”
In her gaze he saw truth and compassion, but it wasn’t enough to change his mind. “I… I can’t do it.”
“If you don’t, I don’t think you’ll ever find that fresh start you’re seeking, no matter how far you move from here.”
He wanted to argue with her. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong. But he didn’t. Sylvie was a smart woman, but the risk of revealing his secret to his sisters was too great. They’d already lost so much—been through so much. And he didn’t want them to look at him like—like he’d let them down.
“You won’t say anything, right?” he asked.
“You know you can trust me. It’s not my secret to tell. But for your own sake, you need to tell them.”
“I… I have to go.”
“Stay.” She approached him. “We don’t have to talk.”
The thought of spending the night getting lost in her sweet, addictive kisses was so very tempting. Every fiber of his body longed to reach out to her and draw her close. But he knew if he did that, he’d never let her go.
And that wouldn’t be fair to Sylvie—sweet Sylvie, who believed in true love, happily-ever-afters and the goodness in people. But he could be none of those things to her.
His gaze automatically moved to her lips. Why did it seem like such a natural thing to kiss her good-night? Perhaps it was the same reason he’d entrusted her with his most deeply held secret.
But he just couldn’t complicate matters even further. Not after he’d just told her the reason they shouldn’t be together. He wasn’t a person she could count on because he let down the people he loved.
He raised his gaze to meet hers. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Disappointment—or was that pain?—showed in her eyes. In a blink it was hidden behind a blank stare. She didn’t say anything as he turned and walked away.
With each step he felt as though he was doing the wrong thing. Sylvie might be the best thing that ever happened to him, but he wasn’t the best for her.