Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(81)

“Can’t you try again?”

I didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know, Whitney. Maybe she’s just not ready for it.”

She stood up. “You know, you don’t sound like the Mr. DeSantis that knocked on the door that night.”

Looking up at her in surprise, I blinked. “I don’t?”

“No. That guy was a fighter.”

Our gazes held for a moment, then she spoke again.

“My mom deserves a fighter, Mr. DeSantis.”

I swallowed hard. “Yes, she does.”

A moment later, she turned for the door.

“Whitney, wait!”

She looked over one shoulder.

“It’s Henry. Call me Henry.”

A smile tipped up her lips, and then she was gone.

I was still sitting there, stunned and confused, a few minutes later when April poked her head into my office. “What was that about with Whitney?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“She, uh, wanted to ask me something about Sylvia.”

“Is everything okay?”

I shook my head. “Hell if I know.”

April’s head tilted in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Henry. I know things have been rough for both of you.”

“Yeah.” I rubbed my face with both hands. “Hey, is it okay if I take off for the day? My head is spinning.”

“Of course. Take the night off, go grab a beer with a friend or something. We’ve got things covered here.”

I stood up and grabbed my coat from the back of my chair. “Thanks. See you Monday.”





“Henry!” Mia embraced me, kissing my cheek. “Come on in, you handsome stranger. Lucas told me you were stopping by.”

“Sorry to barge in on you like this. I know you guys probably have Saturday night plans.”

“We’ve been married for eight years, Henry. This is what Saturday nights look like.” She gestured down at her sweats and bare feet. “But we do have wine.”

I smiled. “Of course you do.”

She motioned for me to follow her. “Come on, we’re in the family room.”

Lucas looked up from where he sat on the couch pouring wine into three glasses on the coffee table. “Hey,” he said, his face breaking into a grin. He stood up and offered his hand. “Long time, no see.”

“I know, sorry. The start of the year has been kind of crazy.”

“How are things going in the vineyard?” Mia asked.

“Good. All good there.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I just needed to escape for a little bit.”

“You’re always welcome here.” Mia’s face was concerned. “But is everything okay?”

“I think so.” I let my arm fall and shrugged. “But there’s this certain situation I’m feeling really confused about. I guess I could use some advice.”

Lucas handed me a glass and grinned. “Does this certain situation have a name?”

I nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. It’s Sylvia.”

Mia gasped. “Sylvia Sawyer?” Then she looked at her husband, one eyebrow arched. “You knew about this?”

“There wasn’t much to know,” Lucas said, settling on the couch again. “At least, not at Christmas.”

“Uh, yeah, a few things have happened since then.” I sat on a chair across from them.

“Like what?” Lucas asked.

“Like I fell in love with her.”

Mia squealed and jumped onto the couch next to her husband, arranging herself cross-legged before leaning forward to grab a glass. “Start at the beginning and tell us everything.”





I told them the story of reconnecting with Sylvia, how quickly things between us had progressed, how neither of us seemed able—or willing, at first—to slow down, and the disastrous New Year’s Eve debacle.

Lucas listened silently and attentively, looking every inch the therapist with an ankle crossed over one knee, his elbow resting on the arm of the couch, his chin in his hand. His wife, on the other hand, reacted with loud gasps, sighs, and sounds of dismay wherever appropriate. Her body language was just as dramatic—she’d clap, rub her palms together, tug at her hair in frustration. I half expected her to get on the floor and start kicking and screaming when I told her that Sylvia had broken it off in early January.

But she only sighed dramatically and nodded in sympathy. “Poor thing. You can’t choose yourself over your children. You just can’t.”

“I know. And I’d never expect her to.” I went on to explain how Sylvia still wanted to work at the winery, and how I’d felt obligated to keep my promise to teach her.

“You felt obligated?” Lucas questioned, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Okay, fine.” I raised my palm. “It was a way I could still see her and talk to her, be close to her. But I swear to God, nothing ever happened between us. For a solid month, we did our best to just be friends.”

“And what happened?” Mia asked.

“What happened was we fell in love anyway,” I said, frustrated all over again. “It didn’t matter that we weren’t sleeping together, or doing anything physical at all.”