“I want to do an experiment to test whether music affects plant growth. My grandpa thought maybe you’d be able to help me.”
“What a cool idea. I’d love to help you.” I paused. “But make sure it’s okay with your mom, all right?”
“Okay.”
Just then, Whitney came rushing through the door. “Keaton, we’ve been out there forever! Mom says to come on.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said, gesturing at me. “I was talking to Mr. DeSantis. He’s going to help me with my science fair project.”
Whitney’s face flushed. “Oh . . . hi.”
“Hi, Whitney. How are you?”
“Good.” She looked at my feet rather than make eye contact. “We should go, Keaton.”
“Okay.” He looked up at me hopefully. “Should I come to Cloverleigh to get help? We moved into our new house so we don’t live there anymore, but I could ask my mom to bring me.”
“Sure. Any time you see my truck in the lot, I’m there,” I told him, wondering if Sylvia was going to be upset that he’d asked me for help. I couldn’t resist one last question. “How is your mom?”
“She’s good,” Keaton said, pulling open the door. “Bye.”
“Bye.” I watched them both exit and hurry toward a white SUV that waited outside. I could barely make out Sylvia’s silhouette in the driver’s seat, but I knew it was her, and my body’s reaction was swift and fierce. My chest tightened. My hands clenched. My skin was hot under my clothes. The weeks apart hadn’t done anything to ease the longing in my heart—I still wanted her.
As the kids climbed into the car, she looked over at me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Were they telling her they’d seen me? What was she doing tonight? Had she been as lonely as I had the last couple weeks? Maybe she’d wave. But within seconds, she looked straight ahead again, and the SUV pulled away.
* * *
The next day, one of her kids came to see me at work—but not the one I was expecting.
I was avoiding the tasting room, which was crowded with guests staying at the inn for Valentine’s Day weekend. April was helping Chloe out today, and they’d assured me they didn’t need my help, so I was hiding out in my office. At the knock on my open door, I looked up and blinked.
“Whitney?”
“Hi,” she said, shoving her hands in her coat pockets.
“Hi.” I stood up and looked over her shoulder. “What can I do for you? Is Keaton looking for me?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m here by myself.”
“Oh.” I was totally baffled. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure. Could I talk to you?”
“Of course. Come in.” I gestured to one of the chairs across from my desk.
She entered the office and perched uneasily on the edge of one seat. Her face was makeup-free, and it struck me how much she resembled her mom. “Aunt Chloe said you were down here. I walked over from the house.”
“Does your mother know you’re here?”
She shook her head. “I just told her I was going outside.”
“Oh.” I was even more confused. Clearing my throat, I sat down and closed my laptop. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to talk to you about my mom.”
My heart beat an erratic rhythm. “Okay.”
Her eyes dropped to her lap. “So, this is really embarrassing to admit, and I’m sorry, but I heard your conversation the night you came over a couple weeks ago.”
“Oh.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I swear.” Now her eyes met mine—they were sincere and worried. “But I couldn’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” I said, wanting to put her at ease. “I’m sorry if you were upset by anything you heard.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, squirmed in her seat, and took another breath. “Did you mean it? What you said? Do you really love my mom?”
For a moment, I was completely taken aback. But I recovered quickly and looked her right in the eye. “Yes, I meant it. Yes, I’m in love with your mom.”
“How do you know?”
“What?”
“How do you know you’re in love with her?”
At first I wasn’t sure how to answer the question—but then I pictured Sylvia, and the ache in my chest intensified. “Because when I think about her, my heart races. Because when she’s in the room, I can hardly breathe. Because I want to be with her all the time. Because I want to do things for her that make her smile. Because when she’s happy, I’m happy. Because she’s the first person in my head when I wake up, the last person I think about before I fall asleep, and the only person in the world who makes me feel like I’m the person I want to be.”
Whitney blinked. “Sheesh.”
I ran a hand through my hair, embarrassed. “I’m sorry if that upsets you, but I’m a person who believes in telling the truth.”
“I’m not upset. I want you to love her like that.”
“You do?”
“Yes. See, when I first saw you together, I was really worried, because of what my dad did. He just left us for this other woman, and it ruined our family. I feel like I don’t even know my dad anymore. I feel like I don’t even have a dad anymore, like he was just pretending to care all those years.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” But I wanted to smash my fist in his face for making her think that.
“Maybe, maybe not. But anyway, the thought of losing my mom the way I lost my dad made me panic. I begged her not to be with you, because I thought you’d take her from us like Kimmy took my dad. And then we’d really be alone.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s understandable.”
“But she’s not my dad. She’s not my dad at all.” Whitney sat up straighter. “And I shouldn’t treat her that way. I shouldn’t take my anger at my dad out on my mom. I shouldn’t let my fears get in the way of my mom’s chance to be happy.”
I stared at her in disbelief, my jaw dropping. Was she really only thirteen years old?
She seemed to understand my shocked expression. “I’ve been going to therapy,” she said, as if that explained everything.
“Oh.”
“And it isn’t that my fears aren’t real—they are. But the sadness I feel when I hear my mom cry is worse.”
“You hear her cry?” A heavy weight settled on my chest.
Whitney nodded, her own eyes shining with tears. “Just about every night. Last night was awful. After we saw you at the gym, Keaton told us about how you’re going to help him with his science project, and my mom went to her room as soon as we got home. She turned on her television, but we heard her crying anyway.”
I stared at my hands on my lap. “It kills me to think of her so sad.”
“Us too. But I think I know why she was so upset. Our dad never did things like offer to help us with school projects. He bought a lot of fancy gifts, but that’s not always the answer.”
“No,” I agreed. “It isn’t.”
“But it’s not just about our dad. It’s because she wants to be with you. She says all she needs is me and Keaton to be happy, but I don’t believe her.” Whitney took a deep breath. “I was wrong to get in the way before, and I’m sorry. So I came here today to make sure you meant what you said about taking care of her, and protecting her.”
“I meant what I said.”
“Then you need to be with her. Because she loves you too.”
“It’s not that easy, Whitney. She sent me away, remember?”
“That’s because she was scared.”
“But I don’t know how to make her not scared,” I said, frustrated all over again. “I’m not good at this. I think I know what to say, and then it turns out to be the wrong thing. All I know how to do is be honest, and it backfired.”
“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.”
“Of course not.” Mia shook her head. “Because your connection to her isn’t just about sex. It goes deeper than that.”
“Which is what scares her.”
“Do you think it’s too soon for her?” Lucas asked, breaking his long silence.
“Lucas!” Mia reached over and slapped his arm. “No, it’s not too soon. This woman loves him. She admitted it.” She looked at me for confirmation. “Right?”
“Right. But she also told me to forget her, like in the same breath.” I explained what happened the last time I saw her. “I told her I loved her. I told her I wanted to take care of her. I wouldn’t walk away without a fight. And she said I had to—that she didn’t know how to let herself be loved like that and she was too scared to try.”
Mia had been sliding down on the sofa ever since I started talking, as if my story was deflating her hopes like a balloon losing air, and finally wound up in a puddle on the rug next to the coffee table. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m dead.”
Lucas exhaled heavily. “You’ll be okay.”
“Here’s the last part,” I said. I told them about Whitney overhearing the entire conversation, running into them last night, and the visit at the winery today. “So now I have no idea what to do. I’m terrified of fucking this up again.”
Mia sat straight up. “I know what you need to do.”
“You do?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded defiantly. “Listen, I get this woman. Maybe I didn’t go through everything she did, but I feel where she’s coming from. I don’t know if we’ve ever told you this, but right before I met Lucas, I was engaged to someone else who jilted me a week before the wedding. Paris was supposed to be my honeymoon, and I went by myself—the last thing I expected was to meet the love of my life tending bar in the Latin Quarter my first night there, but I did.”
I looked back and forth between them. “I never knew that.”
“Now, when I walked into that bar, I was angry, depressed, and miserable. I had the worst attitude ever.”
“The worst,” Lucas confirmed.
“But Lucas saw something in me that even I couldn’t see. He made me believe in love. He made me believe I was worth it. He made me believe that anything was possible—all I had to do was trust him.”
“But how?” I said, leaning forward, elbows on my knees.
“He refused to give up,” she said simply. “I tried to sabotage us. I broke it off in a train station, said au revoir, and walked away.” She looked at her husband. “Remember that, babe?”
He nodded. “You walked the wrong way.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that should have been a sign right there. But the point is . . .” She looked at me again. “I thought I was doing the right thing. And even better, I was taking control of it. I wasn’t going to give some half-French bartender-slash-psych professor the opportunity to abandon me—I was going to leave him first. And I did.”
“So what happened?”
“I had to go after her.” Lucas leaned forward, grabbed his wife’s arm, and
tugged her onto his lap. “She forced me to. And I was a guy who didn’t believe in marriage, didn’t want kids, never thought the whole traditional family thing was for me. But she’d made me look at myself differently, and I knew I couldn’t let her get away.”
“And you can’t let Sylvia get away either, not if you love her.” Mia put her arms around Lucas’s shoulders. “It doesn’t matter that you haven’t been together for very long. What matters is the way you feel.”
“I love her,” I said adamantly. “And I know I can make her happy.”
“Then go get her.” Mia smiled at me. “If you know her well enough to love her, then you know what she needs to hear. It’s in there, Henry.” She put a hand over her heart. “Trust me. Trust you.”
Twenty-Four
Sylvia
I was helping April prepare for the inn’s big Valentine’s dinner when Whitney found me in the restaurant.
“Hey, Whit.” I placed one of the centerpieces that had just been delivered from the florist on a table for four near the bar. “Where have you been?”
“I went to see Henry,” she announced.
I looked at her, startled. “You what?”
“I went to see Henry in his office at the winery.”
My mouth fell open. “Why?”
“Because I needed to talk to him.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “And now I need to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I said, pulling out the chair adjacent to hers. My head was spinning. “But since when do you call him Henry?”
“Since he told me to today. So here’s the thing.” Whitney placed her clasped hands on the table. “He’s really in love with you. It’s true.”
My face burned. “Whitney, what on earth—”
“Listen to me. You said, that night he came to the house, that you didn’t know whether he loved you or not. You said that was the problem.”
“I said that was part of the problem.”
“Well, it’s not anymore. He loves you for real.”
“And how do you know this?”
“Because I asked him how he knows he’s in love with you, and he gave me this very long speech that I can’t exactly remember, but he looked sort of intense and sad like Augustus Waters when he says that he knows that oblivion is inevitable but he is in love with you and all your efforts to keep him from you are going to fail.”
Unbreakable Page 24
