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With that, I ended the call, the deafening silence of the car surrounding me. The world outside seemed to blur as my heart raced, the gravity of my confession hitting me.
The journey back to my house felt both long and short, a medley of emotions leaving me feeling unsteady. Every turn in the road, every curve, made me feel both grounded in Valle di Sole and yet drifting back to my past life in New York City.
Arriving at my cozy little home, I parked the car and took a deep breath, mentally preparing to shut the door on the chaotic day. However, as I approached my front door, I noticed a crisp white envelope pinned against it. My name was written in an all-too-familiar script, causing a flutter in my chest.
I grabbed the envelope, its weight hinting at more than just a letter. Sliding the door of my home open, I stepped into the warmth and comfort of my living space, sinking into the plush couch. With a deep breath, I tore the envelope open, pulling out a letter, and beneath it, a heavier, folded piece of paper that looked official.
It was from Benjamin. Of course.
“Dear Paisley,
“You looked radiant today, as beautiful as the day we met. Seeing you again brought back a flood of memories, feelings, and a certain sense of regret. The city hasn't been the same without you. Your laughter, your spirit, your art—it's missed. Your friends miss you. I miss you.
“You told me once of your dream, of owning a gallery, of showcasing art that spoke to you, and in the process, giving voices to artists. I remember how your eyes would light up at the idea of curating, the excitement in your voice.
“I had hoped to surprise you with this on our wedding day, a testament to my belief in your dreams. But life took us on different paths. Still, I believe that dreams should be nurtured and realized.
“Please find enclosed the deed to a gallery space in SoHo, right in the heart of the art district. It's yours, no strings attached. Consider it a gift, a tribute to what we once had and the love that once was.
“Whatever you decide, know that the city and your friends here have a place for you. I hope you find your happiness, whether it's in the vibrant lanes of New York or the serene vineyards of Valle di Sole.
“Take care,
“Benjamin.”
My fingers traced the words, the enormity of the gesture rendering me speechless. Tucked beneath the letter was the deed he mentioned, a tangible proof of a dream I'd cherished for so long. The gallery, the space, everything I had imagined was now within my grasp.
But it wasn't just the gallery that weighed on my mind; it was the life that came with it. The friends, the city, the art shows, the late-night coffee runs—it all flashed before my eyes.
I felt a pang of nostalgia, a longing for the familiar, but also a pull towards the life I had started to build here in Valle di Sole. Austin, the vineyards, the slow pace, and the warmth of a community that had embraced me.
I clutched the deed and the letter close, their weight heavy against my chest, as a whirlwind of emotions threatened to sweep me away. The decision loomed large in front of me, and I knew it was one I'd have to face head-on.
18
AUSTIN
The town welcomed me back with its familiar air of warmth, and I quickly navigated the winding roads that led to Paisley's cottage. The past few days had been a roller coaster of emotions—running into old flames, the convention's whirlwind, and the longing to be back by Paisley's side. Now, I was eager to surprise her, to wrap her in my arms and tell her just how much she meant to me.
Parking my car a little distance away, I approached her cottage on foot. The windows glowed with a golden light, signaling her presence. My heart raced with the anticipation of seeing her, of being close to her again.
However, before I could reach the front door, voices reached my ears—raised voices, tense and heated. The window, slightly ajar, allowed the conversation to spill out, and I froze, realizing one of the voices was Paisley's. The other, a male, was unfamiliar to me.
Instinctively, I hid behind the wall, peering discreetly through the window. Inside, I could see Paisley, her face flushed with emotion, and opposite her, a tall, dark-haired man. Her ex-fiancé, perhaps? Every fiber of my being screamed in jealousy and protective rage, but something compelled me to stay hidden, to observe, to try and understand what was unfolding before me.
"I can't believe you just showed up here, Benjamin! After all this time, after everything!" Paisley's voice trembled, a mix of anger and vulnerability.
"Listen, Pais, I didn't come here to cause trouble. I just wanted to see you, to talk to you," the man—Benjamin—replied, his tone pleading.
"We've talked, haven't we? You showed up at my door, gave me the deed to a gallery, and we had coffee! What more do you want?"
"I want you to consider coming back, to give us another chance. We had something beautiful. Don't let Valle di Sole and its fleeting allure make you forget our history, our love," he said, reaching out to touch her arm.
Paisley pulled back sharply. "Our love? You mean the love that had you cheating on me? That love? Or the love that made you take me for granted? Tell me, Benjamin, which love are you referring to?"
My heart ached hearing the pain in her voice. I wanted to barge in, to protect her, to take her far away from whatever hurt Benjamin had inflicted upon her. But I remained rooted to the spot, as if paralyzed.
"I made mistakes. I won't deny it. But I've changed. Seeing you again, it's made me realize how much I lost, how much I want to make things right."
