His gaze moved from her to the cake and back again. “You want to eat it?”
Her fine brows drew together. “That is the purpose of cake, isn’t it?”
“Uh, yes. Go ahead.” He was flustered and not making sense.
The truth was that he was dreading their upcoming conversation. He knew how much the wedding business meant to Sylvie. That was why he’d let her continue the business after he’d shut down the hotel. But now he had a potential buyer and he couldn’t put the conversation off any longer.
Maybe talking over cake would make what he said easier to take. Oh, who was he kidding? This wasn’t going to be easy.
He thought after he told her he was selling the estate that she would have been angry with him, but instead, she’d thrown him a birthday party. What was up with that?
Maybe it was shock. Maybe the reality wasn’t sinking in. Or maybe she’d misunderstood him and thought he said he was thinking about selling.
This evening he had to make sure she understood this sale was a certainty. And they needed to figure out dates for winding up the wedding business. He was pretty certain from what the buyer had said that he wouldn’t be inclined to open up any part of the estate for strangers to come in, either to tour the winery or to host a wedding.
And for that, Enzo felt awful. He didn’t want to hurt Sylvie. She’d been nothing but kind to him. But he would make this up to her. He wasn’t sure how yet, but he’d figure out a way.
“I thought we’d eat dessert outside. It’s such a lovely and warm evening.” Sylvie held a plate with a slice of chocolate cake out to him.
He accepted her offer and followed her to the veranda. It was one of his favorite parts of the house. The veranda was spacious and yet it wasn’t too big. It overlooked the vines and that normally made him smile. There was just something about the fresh earth, the abundant vines and the promise of a bountiful harvest that made him happy.
But right now his attention was fully focused on Sylvie. She moved toward the balustrade and then turned back to him. With the setting sun splashing brilliant oranges, pinks and purples across the sky, it was like she’d just stepped into a painting. And he was totally captivated by her beauty, both inside and out.
For a moment he imagined what it might be like if they’d carried on their fling after returning from Paris. Would they have romantic evenings like this followed by passionate, sleepless nights?
Or would their hot flame have burnt out by now? If so, where would that have left them? He definitely didn’t think they’d be standing here sharing cake.
He told himself he was right to end things when he did. But looking at Sylvie now with her hair down over her shoulders and a light breeze combing through her silky hair, he didn’t feel right. He felt like he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.
“Aren’t you going to sit down?” Her voice jarred him from his thoughts.
“No. I have to check a new valve we installed at the winery earlier today. And if I sit down now, I might not move again.”
“I understand. I have days like that.”
They turned back to the beautiful scenery. They ate their cake in silence. The cake was so delicate that it practically melted on his tongue. The mascarpone frosting was whipped to perfection. And the berry filling gave the cake a pop of flavor. He might have preferred skipping the singing clown but his sisters had outdone themselves with this cake.
All too soon the cake was gone. And the moment he’d been dreading had arrived. How did he say this to her without ruining this easiness that they’d regained? Maybe that was it. Maybe he should let her know how much all of this meant to him.
“I should get moving,” she said. “I need to go over my to-do list for the wedding this weekend.” She took his empty plate from him, stacking it with her own and then turned toward the house.
“Wait,” he said, still trying to figure out how to word this.
She turned back to him with curiosity showing in her eyes. “What do you need?”
“I need to talk to you.” He rubbed his damp palms down over his jeans. “I mean, I wanted to apologize to you about Paris.”
“We’ve been over this. I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know. I’m sorry. What I was trying to tell you in my own jumbled way is that I don’t want it to ruin our friendship.”
“It hasn’t.” She sent him a reassuring smile. “You and I, we’ll always be friends.”
He stepped toward her. His gaze met hers. “Do you really mean that?”
“I do.” There had been no hesitation in her words.
“Thank you.”