Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(92)

“No, that answer can wait. I want to hear it, but not right now. If I don’t say what I have to say, I never will.”

She let out a long breath. He waited in the silence.

Whatever else haunted her, he was powerless in the face of it. He wasn’t accustomed to losing, especially not when it counted. But he’d sworn that this time she was the one making the calls.

She crossed to him and touched her hand to his face, surprising him. “I love you, Adrian. More than I thought I could love.”

His heart did a triple beat. He closed his fingers around hers and drew her hand to his lips. “That’s great news. The best news.”

“No, please, listen to me. I have to say this. I have to get it out in the open. My brain says I can live with being some part of your life, but I’m afraid. Afraid that my heart will break if I can’t have all of you. If I have to watch other women come into your life.”

“Other women? Do you understand that I love you, Natasha? I love you.”

“I do, but—”

He pulled her to him, and she let him hold her close. “There can’t be any buts. And if I have my way, that won’t be the only ‘I do’ being said between us. Marry me, Natasha. Please.”

He felt her stiffen in his arms.

He tipped her face up and saw tears.

Her eyes clouded. “You’re serious.”

“Completely serious.” What the hell else could he say to convince her? He felt as if his future hung in the balance of the right words. But in the face of the stormy look dawning in her eyes, no right words came.

She pushed out of his arms and stomped away from him. His stomach clenched. He’d waited too long. Done too many stupid things. He’d lost her.

“I didn’t expect you to say that,” she said.

He reached into his pocket and handed her his handkerchief.

“That I’m serious?”

“That you want to marry me.”

“I’ve wanted to marry you since the first moment I saw you.”

She smiled, and life returned to his veins. “You warned me that Italians like to do things slowly,” she said. “But maybe you should consider clueing a woman in on such important issues in the future.”

“Marry me, Natasha.”

If she said no, the rest of their conversation didn’t matter. He couldn’t be her friend. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could continue working with her; it’d be torture. Maybe he’d go back to Rome, start over.

“Nothing in my life will matter if I can’t live it with you,” he added. It was his deepest truth. He only hoped he wasn’t telling it too late.

She put her hands to her hips. His handkerchief rested like a white flag not yet put to use.

“If I marry you, I want to run the native-plant business. On my own. I mean I’ll take advice from you, but I want it to be my business.”

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “What’s business got to do with it?”

“I have to meet you on equal ground. Have an endeavor of my own. I have to prove myself.”

“Okay.” He reached for her, but she stepped back. “But you don’t have to prove yourself. The evidence is already in.”

“No, I mean it. I can’t just melt into your world and take it on like a cloak. I have to prove myself to myself. To do that, I need a project of my own.”

He smiled as he began to understand. “Now who’s focused on projects?” he said, hoping that humor might dissolve some of the tension arcing between them.

She didn’t crack a smile, just crossed her arms, waiting for his answer.

“Okay, the native-plant business is all yours. Would’ve been anyway. What else?”

God, all he wanted to do was kiss her and tumble her across the bed behind her and make love to her until they couldn’t breathe. But he got it. This was important to her. She didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. Especially not him. He of all people understood that drive, the drive to stand on one’s own merits, one’s own accomplishments. But something else lurked under the surface of her words, something that scared her.

She pulled the handkerchief through her fingers and then shook it out and began to fold it. She was stalling.

“For God’s sake, Natasha, what else? You’re killing me here.”

She handed him the handkerchief and held his gaze. “Eddie will be in our lives. I don’t know how much or on what basis—I mean as Tyler’s father, nothing more. They both deserve that.”

“I considered that. I agree.”

“You do?”

“I do.” He tipped her face to his. “Will you marry me?”

“Maybe we should have a trial run?”

“A trial what?” His English, along with his dissolving restraint, was failing him.

She motioned to her bed. It was all the invitation he needed.

Clothes flew in their hurry to join their bodies. But when she stood before him, naked, beautiful, his, he slowed the pace and showed her love that he’d waited all his life to share.





As their breath returned, she lifted away from him and sat at the side of the bed. The light danced across her skin, and Adrian was sure he was the luckiest man in the world. But as she pressed her lips together and turned to him, he wondered what issue they hadn’t yet resolved.