THE BIG DAY had arrived.
Praises and compliments were bandied about.
But all Enzo could think about was the small apartment in Florence—where Sylvie was considering living. It was so much smaller than the house on this estate. And it needed a lot of work.
He knew those were all excuses. The truth of the matter was he didn’t want her moving there. He didn’t want her to be so far away.
And yet, he couldn’t ask her to stay here. Because soon, he would no longer own the estate. So what did that leave him? To ask her to move to France with him? Impossible. That would mean strings and commitments, things he was just now untangling himself from with the sale of the estate.
“This is great.” The reporter, Jameson Asaro, seemed more interested in smiling at Sylvie than exploring the estate. “I think we have all we need of the villa and vineyard.”
“Are you sure?” Sylvie asked.
“You’ve been an excellent guide.” Jameson smiled once more at Sylvie. “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”
Color rose in Sylvie’s cheeks. “Thank you.”
Unhappy with this conversation, Enzo cleared his throat as he made a point of checking the time on his wristwatch. It was definitely time to move this interview along.
“You know, Enzo’s father built all of this,” Sylvie said. “Isn’t that right, Enzo?”
He knew she was trying to get him to talk. He didn’t like this guy or the way he flirted with Sylvie. Still, Sylvie was looking at him expectantly. “Um, yes. That’s right. He inherited the land from my grandfather, but until that point, it was just wide-open space.” He pressed his hands to his trim waist. “This was all my father’s hard work.”
The reporter made a note on his digital tablet. “But you have worked on the grapes, right?”
“Yes. I’ve been instrumental in blending the grapes.”
“How did you do that if you were living and working in France?”
“I started the work before I moved to France. And though my father and his crew did the day-to-day maintenance, I came home periodically to oversee things.”
“So you and your father must have worked closely together.”
Enzo paused, recalling his time with his father. In the beginning his father wouldn’t listen to Enzo’s ideas. But as the years went by and Enzo gained more experience, his father would actually seek out his advice. It had been the greatest feeling in the world. “We did.”
The reporter made a notation in his notes. “Then why move to France? Why not work here with your father?”
“My father believed in everyone learning to be independent.”
“So you were planning to return?”
He didn’t like the direction of these questions. He never should have agreed to the interview. He didn’t want to dissect his life with his father. He didn’t want to acknowledge that he’d headed off on his own to learn as much as he could in order to return to the Barto Vineyard and make it bigger and better. And to one day have his father hand over the reins—trusting Enzo with what his father had created and worked his whole life to make thrive.
“Yes.” Enzo’s voice rumbled with emotion. He slammed the door on those memories. He swallowed hard. “We should get going.” He turned for the door. “I’ve arranged to give you a horseback tour of the estate. It’s the only true way to see the place.” He paused and turned back to them. “Do you ride?”
* * *
The reporter’s questions were opening doors to Enzo’s past.
But would they be enough to change the course of the future?
Sylvie’s breath caught as she waited to see how this would play out. Luckily, both men were agreeable to a horseback ride. She let out the pent-up breath.
In the next breath it struck her that Enzo had planned the horseback tour on his own, without even consulting her. If he didn’t care about the estate and was so anxious to get rid of it, would he have gone to the bother? Would he have gone along with any of this?
She didn’t think so. As they all got saddled up, she was smiling broadly. Enzo might not be willing to admit it, but he was attached to the estate. Talking about selling it and doing it were two totally different things. When it finally came down to putting pen to paper, she didn’t think he could do it.
Once the reporter and photographer were seated on two of the most mellow horses in the stable, Sylvie mounted Duchess at the same time Enzo climbed on Emperor. Off they went. Enzo took the lead and she was curious where he would lead them. It didn’t take her long to figure out he was leading them to her favorite spot, next to the stream.
“You own all of this land?” the reporter asked.
“Yes.” Enzo didn’t expound upon the answer.
Sylvie had taken up the rear, sandwiching their two visitors in between so no one got lost, because there was a lot of land out here in which to wander off in the wrong direction.
“It’s very picturesque.” Sylvie admired the passing scenery. “I love to come out here when I have time just to take in the quiet beauty and unwind.”
“How long have you worked here?” Jameson asked.
“I just started working here this year.” And yet, it seemed so much longer. “I immediately fell in love with the estate.” And she was pretty crazy about its owner, but she kept that part to herself.
It seemed like she’d been keeping more and more to herself these days. In the beginning of all this, she and Enzo could talk about most anything. It was like they had an immediate rapport—
Whinny!
The next thing she knew Duchess came to an abrupt stop. Before she could think to react, the horse reared up. Sylvie clung tight to the reins and tightened her legs. But gravity was too much for her. She thought she heard Enzo call out her name.
She went airborne.
A scream tore from her lungs.
And then she landed on the hard ground with a thud. The air whooshed from her lungs. And as her head hit the ground, blackness engulfed her, swallowing her whole.
* * *
She just had to be all right.
That was all Enzo could think when he saw Sylvie motionless on the ground. And that was what he thought when she came to and insisted that she was all right. She was more worried about the horse, who’d been spooked, than herself. Against his wishes, she’d gotten to her feet.
It was all he could do to convince her that they were going to the A&E. When he’d pointed out that she’d blacked out momentarily, she’d grudgingly conceded but insisted that no ambulance was necessary. And so he drove her. She was so stubborn.
And now, as they waited in a hospital cubicle, Sylvie grew restless. He couldn’t blame her. This place was boring but necessary.
“This is silly to wait around here,” Sylvie said. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“That bump on your head would indicate otherwise.”
She sighed as though giving up the fight. Because there was no way she was getting out of the hospital until the doctor cleared her.
A few minutes of silence passed between them. In that time Enzo’s mind went to a dark place as he thought about how close he’d come to losing her. The thought of his world without Sylvie in it—well, he couldn’t imagine it. Never seeing her bright, sunny smile again or being able to pick up his phone and hear her soft voice and infectious giggle. He halted his troubling thoughts. Thankfully, none of that had happened.
“I’m sorry.”
The words were so soft—so faint—that he wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “Sorry?” When she nodded, he asked, “For what?”
“For ruining your interview with the magazine. I can’t even imagine what they must think.”
He wanted to tell her that he didn’t care what they thought. The only important thing was her well-being. But he stopped himself. He told himself that he didn’t want to hurt her feelings since she’d arranged for the magazine coverage and worked so hard to make the estate look picture-perfect. He ignored the part about how his admission might convey how much she’d come to mean to him—as a friend, that is.
“Everything is going to work out fine,” he said with a conviction he was lacking because he knew they’d soon be parting ways and—and he’d miss their conversations.
“Ms. DeLuca?” A doctor they hadn’t seen before stepped into the cubicle.
“Yes.” There was a slight tremor in her voice.
Enzo couldn’t help but wonder if she was worried about having to spend the night in the hospital. Before he could reassure her that everything would be all right, the doctor turned to Enzo. The words froze in Enzo’s throat.
“I’m Dr. Costa.” The older man wearing a white coat held out his hand. “And you would be?”
“Enzo.” Suddenly, he felt nervous. What was the doctor going to say? Was there something wrong with Sylvie and that was why a new doctor was here? As the doctor’s eyes prompted Enzo for more information, Enzo found his voice once more. “I’m, uh, Sylvie’s friend.”
The doctor nodded in understanding. “If you could go to the waiting area, I’d like to speak to Ms. DeLuca.”
“I’d like him to stay,” Sylvie said. “He’s never going to believe I’m okay until he hears it from you.”
The doctor’s bushy white brows drew together behind his silver-framed glasses. “Okay, then.”
Would the doctor have asked him to leave the room if nothing was wrong? Enzo didn’t think so. And he wanted to be there for Sylvie to lean on if the news wasn’t good.
The doctor focused on Sylvie. “You’ve had quite a fall and you have a slight concussion. Your other tests came out fine. Are you having any cramping?”
Sylvie’s eyes showed her confusion. “No.”
“Any spotting?”
“Spotting?” Her voice wavered. When the doctor nodded, she said, “No.”
“That’s good.” The doctor smiled at her. “Now, if your friend will step outside, I’ll just check and make sure everything is all right with the baby.”
The breath hitched in Enzo’s throat.
Baby? What baby?
Surely, the doctor was confused. Enzo turned his attention to Sylvie. All the color had leached from her face. Judging by her wide-eyed gaze and her slack jaw, she was as surprised by this diagnosis as he was.
“Just move to the waiting area,” the doctor prompted as a nurse rushed in. “We won’t be long.”
Enzo turned his stunned gaze to Sylvie. He didn’t want to walk away. He had questions. Lots of questions.
He opened his mouth to say something but his voice failed him.
How had this happened?
That was a foolish question. He recalled very vividly how this had happened. Every last sizzling detail.
The doctor cleared his throat, startling Enzo into action. On wooden legs, he walked away. But not far. Not far at all.
* * *
She was pregnant.
It wasn’t as big of a shock as Sylvie had expected.
Maybe because way down deep in her subconscious, she’d suspected it. She just hadn’t allowed herself to admit it. After all, what were the chances that the first time you make love that you would turn up pregnant?
She didn’t think the odds were very high. Leave it to her to be the one in a million. But it explained her symptoms, from her tender breasts, to her upset stomach, to her heightened emotions. And if she were to finally slow down enough to consult her day planner, she’d likely notice that her cycle was late. Inwardly, she groaned. This was the worst timing—the absolute worst.
When the doctor finished his thorough exam, he said, “Everything appears good. But considering the severity of your fall, I’d like to do a transvaginal ultrasound.” He went on to explain the procedure to her.
“I’ll be able to see the baby?” she asked. Hope and excitement swelled within her chest.
The doctor nodded. “And we should be able to hear its heartbeat.” The doctor typed some notes into the computer that was mounted on a cart. “Was that the father who was just in here?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her answer because Enzo was the only man in her life, if you could stretch the meaning of being in someone’s life.
“Would you like to have him in here for the ultrasound?” When she nodded, the doctor said, “As soon as you’re all set up, someone will go get him. The technician should be in shortly.”
And then the doctor left her alone. It was quite loud in her head as one thought preceded another. Quite often they were in contradiction of each other. But in the end, they all boiled down to: What was she going to do now?