Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(75)

But we weren’t. Of course we weren’t.

I burst through the tasting room doors and saw Chloe behind the counter, unpacking new glasses from shipping boxes.

“Hey,” she said, “how did it go with the house?”

“Good,” I answered breathlessly. “Is Henry around?”

“Downstairs. Too cold to work in the vineyard today. Do you want to—”

But I was already rushing across the cement floor toward the cellar steps. I spotted him right away, standing over a barrel with a long glass tube I now knew was called a “wine thief.”

He heard me bounding down the stairs and looked up, a grin breaking out on his face. “Hey, you.”

When I reached him, I was breathing heavy and I thought my heart was going to burst right through my chest, but it wasn’t just from exertion. “Hi.”

“How was the rest of your trip?”

“It was good.” I was dying for him to hug me and couldn’t help feeling disappointed when he kept his arms to himself. My entire body was like one huge live wire being so close to him.

“Kids do okay?”

“Yes. It was tough, and Whitney cried a lot, but I was expecting it.” My hopes began to wither . . . He wasn’t going to touch me. Not even an informal, good-to-see-you elbow nudge.

“Poor thing.” He took a sample of the wine from the barrel. “You glad to be back?”

“Yeah.” God, I missed the feeling of his arms around me. Would I never feel it again? “I feel like . . . like we can really move forward now.”

“When do you close on your house?”

“I’m still waiting for the exact date, but I’m hopeful we’ll have keys within the week.” I tried to smile, but suddenly felt like crying for some stupid reason. What the hell was the matter with me? Of course he wasn’t going to touch me—he was respecting my wishes like a good man would. Had I expected anything less from him?

“Optimism is a good thing,” he said. “So what would you like to work on today? It’s too cold to be outside, but you’re welcome to hang out with Mariela and me down here or ask Chloe what she could use help with upstairs.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Maybe I’ll head upstairs and see what Chloe needs.”

“Okay.”

I turned around and started to walk away.

“Sylvia,” he called softly.

“Yes?” I looked back at him, my heart splintering in my chest. Every bone in my body was aching to run at him, jump into his arms, beg for another ending to this reunion scene.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

I smiled, although tears threatened. Were we doomed to this forever? Missing each other all the time, even when we were standing right next to one another? This was agony, and I saw no way out of it. “Me too.”

Upstairs, I told Chloe I felt sick, which was true—my stomach was suddenly roiling.

My sister looked at me. “Yeah, your color doesn’t look good. Why don’t you go back home and get some rest? You’ve probably been going nonstop for days.”

“Okay.”

I bundled up again and walked home quickly, unshed tears burning my eyes, sobs trapped inside my chest. I didn’t stop moving until I was inside my bedroom with the door closed, then I threw myself onto my bed, curled into a ball, and let it all out. I hadn’t cried so much since Brett left me.

But this was my own fault.

I’d moved here to find peace and security, to feel grounded and safe and strong, to create a haven for myself and for my children, to piece my heart back together again and keep it better protected.

Instead, I’d fallen in love. I felt exposed and raw and vulnerable, and I hated myself for it.

Suddenly I knew I was going to be sick, and I rocketed from my bed into the adjoining bathroom, barely making it before losing the contents of my stomach.

Things couldn’t go on like this.





Eventually I had to drag myself out of my bedroom and attempt to be a functioning adult. The kids would be home from school just after three, Keaton had boxing, Whitney needed to bake something for a ski club fundraiser, and I had to run to the bank and the realtor’s office before they closed at five. I scrubbed my teeth, rinsed my mouth, and repaired my face as well as I could, but there was no way to disguise the fact that I’d been a blubbering mess for hours, and Chloe was right—my color was not good. My complexion had kind of a gray-green hue to it. Hopefully, sunglasses would help. At least my stomach felt a little better.

I managed to get my errands in before the bus brought the kids home, although everyone in the realtor’s office and bank probably thought I was nuts for wearing my sunglasses inside.

Back at home, I made the kids a healthy snack and prayed they wouldn’t notice my puffy eyes. Keaton seemed oblivious while he ate his celery sticks and peanut butter, chattering excitedly about a project he wanted to do for the upcoming science fair, but Whitney eyeballed me steadily over her plate of carrots and hummus and hardly touched her food.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked her, avoiding eye contact.

“A little,” she replied, pushing a few baby carrots around on her plate. “Are you okay?”

Keaton stopped eating and looked at me too.