“Poor thing.” He took a sample of the wine from the barrel. “You glad to be back?”

“Yeah.” God, I missed the feeling of his arms around me. Would I never feel it again? “I feel like . . . like we can really move forward now.”

“When do you close on your house?”

“I’m still waiting for the exact date, but I’m hopeful we’ll have keys within the week.” I tried to smile, but suddenly felt like crying for some stupid reason. What the hell was the matter with me? Of course he wasn’t going to touch me—he was respecting my wishes like a good man would. Had I expected anything less from him?

“Optimism is a good thing,” he said. “So what would you like to work on today? It’s too cold to be outside, but you’re welcome to hang out with Mariela and me down here or ask Chloe what she could use help with upstairs.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Maybe I’ll head upstairs and see what Chloe needs.”

“Okay.”

I turned around and started to walk away.

“Sylvia,” he called softly.

“Yes?” I looked back at him, my heart splintering in my chest. Every bone in my body was aching to run at him, jump into his arms, beg for another ending to this reunion scene.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

I smiled, although tears threatened. Were we doomed to this forever? Missing each other all the time, even when we were standing right next to one another? This was agony, and I saw no way out of it. “Me too.”

Upstairs, I told Chloe I felt sick, which was true—my stomach was suddenly roiling.

My sister looked at me. “Yeah, your color doesn’t look good. Why don’t you go back home and get some rest? You’ve probably been going nonstop for days.”

“Okay.”

I bundled up again and walked home quickly, unshed tears burning my eyes, sobs trapped inside my chest. I didn’t stop moving until I was inside my bedroom with the door closed, then I threw myself onto my bed, curled into a ball, and let it all out. I hadn’t cried so much since Brett left me.

But this was my own fault.

I’d moved here to find peace and security, to feel grounded and safe and strong, to create a haven for myself and for my children, to piece my heart back together again and keep it better protected.

Instead, I’d fallen in love. I felt exposed and raw and vulnerable, and I hated myself for it.

Suddenly I knew I was going to be sick, and I rocketed from my bed into the adjoining bathroom, barely making it before losing the contents of my stomach.

Things couldn’t go on like this.

* * *