Page 87 of Blush
He sipped his drink and said nothing. In the distance, an animal rustled in the grass.
When they first moved to the North Fork, the proximity to wildlife was surprising. Her childhood summers in East Hampton had not brought her many encounters with foxes, turkeys, brazen racoons, or feral cats. In the early days, there had been a few times when an animal crossed her path and she let out a startled yelp that brought Leonard running.
He had always been her protector. And whatever happened next, she knew he would protect her still.
“Leonard, it’s going to be okay,” she said.
He turned to her. “I don’t blame you for being disappointed in me. I’m upset with myself.”
“I’m not disappointed in you,” she said. “You created this life for us. I wouldn’t have wanted anything else.”
He reached for her hand. “I love you. You know that, right?”
She looked into his eyes. “Of course. That’s never been a question.” She swallowed hard. “Leonard, I’m not upset with you. If anything, I blame myself...”
He nodded, but it was as if he were only half there.
She couldn’t tell him the truth. It would shatter him. Whatever the burden of having the baron around, she could bear it for a few more weeks. No matter the ups and downs with their children, with money, with the winery, their marriage was the one thing she could hold on to. She took comfort in that. She hoped, when the sale was finalized and the shock of it all had eased, that Leonard would find comfort in it, too.
“I think the faster we move on, the better. Do you think the papers will be signed soon?” she said.
“Our attorneys are working on it. But it’s a process.”
“Still, it’s just a matter of weeks, though. Right?”
He nodded. “Yes. But one of the conditions of the sale is that the baron asked me to stay on for a year. To help with the transition. But the good news is that he’ll also keep most of the staff.”
Vivian pulled her hand back. “What? He expects us to stay here after the sale?”
Leonard nodded. “For continuity.”
“No. We’re not doing that,” she said.
“I’m afraid we are,” he said. “I’ve already agreed.”
Forty-three
The rain soaked through her clothes, plastering her hair to her face and neck. After texting Mateo to meet her at the barn, Sadie didn’t wait for a response before dashing out into the night.
In the downpour, the scent of every flower, every plant, even the soil, seemed intensified. She inhaled deeply, her nerve endings perking up with each step. She’d tried to put Mateo out of her mind, but now that she’d allowed herself to reach out to him, admitted to herself how much she missed him, the physical longing that had been pent up for days felt excruciating. She would say her piece, telling him she understood the stress he was under—that despite what he might think, it was affecting her family, too. She understood what was at stake for all of them. And there, in the room where they’d shared such exquisite passion, he would take her in his arms and they would pick up right where they had left off.
One thing she hadn’t factored into her impulsive non-plan was that the barn would be locked. Maybe she was spending too much time reading her grandmother’s old books and was losing touch with reality.
The rain that had been a misty blanket earlier in the day had turned to a needlelike downpour. She pulled out her phone to text Mateo to bring the keys, but it was too wet, and besides, he had enough sense todo that. She was the one who climbed locked gates and fell into potted plants.
She inched closer to the building, trying to shelter herself under the narrow overhang of the roof. She waited and waited, shivering in the breeze that blew in off the bay. What if he was ignoring her text?
Finally, she saw a shadowy figure across the field. The rain and the wind were instantly forgotten. How could she have doubted that he would come meet her?
It took effort not to run up to him, to throw herself against him. When he reached her, she could barely see his eyes under the baseball hat pulled down low. She waited for him to reprimand her for not having a hat or an umbrella, the way he did out in the field under the hot sun—any hint of tenderness. But he just crossed his arms, the rain pelting him. He didn’t even try to stand under the ledge.
“What’s this about?” he said.
“Can we go inside?” she said, wiping the water away from her mouth.
“No. Whatever you have to say, just tell me.”
He couldn’t be serious.
