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He waited a breath, eyes unblinking. “We were both idiots,” he said at last.
The corners of my mouth wanted to turn up into an almost smile. But I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny or if he was just rubbing salt into the wound.
“Obviously”—he gestured between us with his finger pointed—“some of us bigger than others.”
A tentative laugh escaped me. “I deserve that, I suppose.”
He was deadpan still, solemn and serious. Unreadable. Michael ran a hand through his messy hair, and my tortured heart ached with memories of running my own hands through it just days ago. How I wanted to just crawl into his lap and do that one more time, feel him beneath my fingers.
“I’m so sorry, Michael.”
He remained stoically silent.
I continued, my arms wanting to reach out and have him hold me. “I need you to understand how sorry I am.” I tried to read any emotion in his eyes, but I couldn’t see anything. No sign of sadness, regret, or even anger. He seemed irrevocably lost to me. “I was so angry with you. Thinking you were some master manipulator, doing all of this”—I pointed between us—“trying to take advantage of me so you could get to my grandparents. It wasn’t until I talked with them that I finally understood everything.”
He rolled his eyes. Not in amusement or relief like I’d seen him do countless times before. This time was different. He huffed out in frustration before saying, “I’m glad you can see the truth now. But that doesn’t change much. There’s a lot that’s happened. And a lot I need to tell you, explain to you.”
My heart dropped to the floor. Okay, this was it. He was going to tell me that he had slept with someone else. Just like Tim. Or that he’d gotten back together with his stupid ex. He had broken my heart and was now going to step on it and grind it into the floorboards. I swallowed, trying to moisten my mouth, told myself to handle whatever he had to say with dignity and decorum. I wouldn’t yell. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t be weak.
“Can I get some more coffee?”
“Sure.” I refilled his mug and added the cream and sugar.What the heck? Why was he putting this off? Just to torture me? Make me feel pain?How much more pain could I take?
I set his cup down, took my seat, and tried to stop the shivering. It was warm in the house, but my insides were ice cold. Even the coffee I was drinking wasn’t warming me.
“First off, I need to tell you that Sal and Sophia”—he looked back through the doorway they had left through—“they’ve been nothing but nice to me since I arrived.”
A heavy weight descended upon me, waiting for him to tell me how he had drafted a more than generous offer for the winery to show his appreciation for all their hospitality.
“And sending Walter out here to try to cut a sleazy deal with them was uncalled for. My father allowed his ego to get the better of him. He didn’t believe in me, in what I was doing.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’ll get to that in just a moment,” he said. “But, first, I need to apologize to you too. You were right. I should have told you what happened.”
“I’m the one who royally screwed up. I allowed my anger to cloud my better judgment, to get the better of me. I let my fear take over and pushed my feelings for you aside. I was scared. But I get it now.”
“You don’t understand everything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I should have handled things better. It was foolish of me to just assume you knew. But I was so consumed with everything that I was trying to do, to get done, that . . . Well . . . Jesus . . .”
“What? Just say it, Michael.”
His eyes latched onto mine, distant and unsure. He let out a held breath, waited another beat. “I did lie to you Siena. Right from the start.”
I tried to remain strong, but my words faltered. So, he had lied to me, from the very beginning?
“My father did tell me to get the winery. From day one that was the mission.”
“I knew it,” I said, my voice weak and broken, just like my heart.
“I told him you guys wouldn’t sell, told him there was nothing we could do. But he kept pushing me. And, for a while, I did think that maybe, just maybe, I could convince you.”
“I see.”
“I kept thinking there had to be a way to get it. But the more I got to know you . . . and the more I spent time with you all—” He reached across the table for my hand. I gave it to him without hesitation. “Siena, I realized that getting the winery from you would be the most backstabbing, callous thing I have ever done.”
I was stunned. Speechless. Before, I was at a loss for words because of the guilt I was feeling. Now I was at a loss for words because him holding my hand, confessing his mistake, literally stole my breath.
“I know you’ve received two amazing offers in San Francisco. But I have a proposition for you. A better offer,” he said.
