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Unable to formulate words, she stood there. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked repeatedly, refusing to let them fall. She was stronger than that. Stefano didn’t deserve to witness her tears.
“You don’t love me.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me, but if you really knew me, you wouldn’t love me.”
He wasn’t getting off that easily. “Tell me. Tell me every reason that would make you unlovable.”
He shook his head and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think so. We need to get back to the villa before people start to wonder what happened to us.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.” She walked over to a tall tree filled with fluttering green leaves and sank down on the lush grass beneath it.
“Jules, be reasonable.”
“I am. I was honest about my feelings. Now you need to be honest with me. I’m not going anywhere until you do.”
Resignation filtered across his tanned face. He led the horses over to a nearby tree and tied them up before returning to her side. He sat down next to her.
She steeled herself for whatever he was about to say. The way he’d been acting and holding himself back told her that it was pretty serious. Whatever it was, they’d deal with it together.
“Talk to me, Stefano. I’ve told you about my past.”
“I know you did, and I appreciate how brave you were to do that, but this isn’t the same thing. I...” He plucked a piece of tall grass and twirled it between his fingers. “I’ve done things—things that can’t be forgiven.”
She wanted to understand, but he wasn’t giving her much to go on. “Does this have to do with your wife?”
He nodded. “We were high school sweethearts. She had this special way about her. All the guys turned to watch when she passed by, but she only had eyes for me.”
“What was she like?”
“A dreamer. She’d love to lie back in the grass and stare up at the blue sky and talk about her dreams for the future.” He leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “Taking those dreams from her changed her.”
“How did you do that?”
“I married her. She thought by marrying a DeFiore that my money would bankroll her dreams. The truth is she never wanted to live here at the vineyard. She longed for the city and the high life.”
“And you didn’t see things that way?”
“No.” Stefano gazed straight ahead. “After the honeymoon ended, the arguments started. She wanted to travel, and I kept putting her off, hoping she’d adjust to our new life together.”
“But she never did.”
He shook his head. “And I thought if we had a baby that it’d help things.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what I was thinking. A baby is no answer to problems in a marriage, but I was desperate. We were becoming more distant by the day.”
Jules knew that it was important for him to get this off his chest and for her to hear it. She also knew how difficult and painful it could be to peel back the scab on a deep wound. She reached out and squeezed his hand, giving him what reassurance she could.
He cleared his throat. “Nothing I said or did was right. And I was losing hope that somehow we’d find the light at the end of the tunnel.”
“Oh, Stefano. I’m so sorry. It must have been so hard for you.”
“But that’s just it—it shouldn’t have been so hard. If only we’d talked before we got married. I mean really talked about what we were feeling and what we wanted out of life. But we were always so busy with this or that. I kept putting it off, figuring that we were in love and that life would just work itself out. But I was so wrong. I really messed things up.”
“I’m sure you aren’t the only one who thought that love was enough to iron out all of the wrinkles in life. Sometimes love runs out of steam and the wrinkles are all that remain.”
He turned to her, his eyes full of turmoil. “But it’s more than that. When I learned that Gianna wasn’t interested in having kids or living here at the vineyard, I didn’t take it well. I thought when we married that it was understood that we would start a family and I would keep working at the winery.”
“But she wanted her dreams, and they were a long way from the vineyard.”
He nodded. “She wanted to travel the world and write stories of our experiences. She said there were people that became professional bloggers for a living. She thought since I did well in English class that I would be able to do this. What she didn’t consider was that I hate to write. I can do it for the winery blog, but it is out of necessity, not want.”
