Page 115 of Tempted Hearts
And of course, I couldn’t think of Italy without thinking of her.
“He would have been in his glory. I’ve told you more than once, but your dad would be so proud of what you’ve done with Heritage Hill in the last year.”
Mason coughed. “It’s mostly Pia.”
Mason hated compliments. “At least you had the good sense to keep her on. And then marry her.”
His lips twitched with a smile, threatening his contemplation. “I didn’t even have that. Literally kicked her to the curb the day she arrived.” He looked at me. “Can you imagine?”
“Honestly? No, I can’t. But you were in a state at the time, if I remember.”
His father had just passed. Mason only learned of the extent of Heritage Hill’s decline when the new manager showed up on his doorstep. New manager—and future wife.
“A bachelor pact.” I took a sip of whiskey. “Honestly, as each of you fell like dominoes, I was initially kind of pissed. I think there was a part of me that really thought we would stick to it.”
“There was never a chance. But I think”—he looked at me, dead in the eyes—“it was more of a promise that we remain family than it ever was a pact not to get married.”
Shit. Mason made me tear up. I was going to fucking kill him.
“And that’s already a done deal, so…”
Thankfully, he stopped talking. These kinds of discussions were never easy for me.
A little voice in my head scolded me at that, so I knew what I was doing when my mouth opened to respond. “And it means the world to me. I belong here more than I ever belonged in my own family.”
Mason didn’t react. He didn’t move or look at me. Instead, he lifted his beer, we clinked glasses, and no words were needed.
“You said you were staying until Thursday. What’s with the packed bag?”
Of course he would notice. Nothing escaped Mason’s notice.
“I’m heading back tomorrow morning. I have some things to take care of.”
“Such as? Oh shit, look at that.”
It was a rowboat across the cove drifting toward the shore with nobody in it. We watched as two heads emerged in the lake, looking for their boat, which obviously wasn’t anchored very well.
Mason’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He took it out and looked at the text.
“Tacos are ready. If you’re coming down?”
I wanted to ask if Jules was there. She wasn’t part of the core group, but Delaney often brought her around, so there was a chance…
The bigger question was, did I want her to be there?
I looked back into the bedroom, at the bed, at my laptop. I couldn’t chance it.
“Save me one. I’m gonna get some things done and wander down in a bit.”
And by “a bit,” that meant later on tonight, when my stomach finally forced my legs down to the kitchen—away from the email, away from the lake, and away from the truth I wasn’t ready to answer.
44
JULES
“Buongiorno, bellissima.”
“Buongiorno, Emilio,” I said to the wine store owner. We had many conversations about my Italian heritage, and I’d even stopped by the day after I got home from Italy to tell him I’d been able to talk to one of my ancestors.
