Page 45 of Jordan
She went to him, sitting on the edge of his chair, expression contrite. "I'm so sorry."
Taking a sip of the beer, he put the bottle away and reached for her hands—such delicate fingers, long and elegant, he thought absently. "Don't be stupid. You have nothing to apologize for. I love you, honey, and am only sorry I left." He squeezed her hands. "With that said, I don't want to be responsible for shooting that miserable woman with her bigoted ideals." He gazed at her. "I was prepared to hate your husband, determined to lump him in with the rest of his family. But I have seen the way he looks at you. He cares a hell of a lot. And I think his sisters are not so bad either. They are just part of a family that are entrenched in the past and its unfortunate ideals. I didn't approve of your reasons for going forward with this marriage, but it might turn out to be a very good thing and end up changing their minds and hearts. The senior Wainwright seems to be willing to try."
"The mother runs the show. She always has."
"That too can change. Now, why don't we open a bottle of wine and enjoy the view? I chose this horribly expensive place for just that."
"I might be giving up my apartment." She spoke without thinking.
"Oh?" His brows lifted. "Thinking of putting down roots?"
She shrugged helplessly. "I am conflicted."
"Sometimes that's a good thing."
*****
Thousands of miles away at the villa tucked on the piece of land that was home to the vineyard he had invested in, Jordan kicked back on the terrace and sipped and savored the wine that came from it. Not bad, he thought. What he knew about planting grapes and fermenting them could fill half a page of a small notebook, but he was a connoisseur, which meant that he knew a good vintage and knew when it was a step away from watered-down alcohol.
The last rays of the setting sun gilded the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the vast expanse of vineyard. Jordan's thoughts drifted back to the city, to the intricate dance of relationships he'd momentarily left behind. He couldn't help but wonder about the unfolding drama between Julesa, Caleb, and the ever-dominant Jacquline Wainwright.
Jordan's villa was a world away, but the undercurrents of the city's drama reached him, nonetheless. He took another contemplative sip of wine, the rich flavor grounding him amidst his reflections. He couldn't help but hope that, like the grapevines that transformed under his stewardship, the relationships he cared about would also grow and flourish, even if it took time and patience.
For now, he allowed himself to be enveloped by the serenity of his surroundings, the vineyard's peaceful ambiance providing a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that swirled back home. And as the stars began to dot the night sky, Jordan's thoughts remained tethered to Julesa, the woman who had unexpectedly changed his views and what he thought he knew about himself.
He had hoped she would agree to accompany him. He had been loath to leave her alone. His protectiveness asserting itself, he mused. But that was not the only thing. He had wanted her to see what he had built aside from his family. This place was his. He looked around at the glow of the departing sun bathing the grapevines. An inheritance from his paternal grandmother, but one he had made his own.
He wanted to share it with her. And he wanted to keep her close. He sensed a hesitancy inside her, the unwillingness to commit fully, and it hurt. But he understood the mindset. His family had treated hers with careless disregard and the hurt was still there. So was the bitterness he wished he could erase.
He should call her. Should he? Or give her time. She said she had some business to tie up and he should really give her some space. Time to reflect and be with her brother.
Jordan's mind wandered as he savored the wine. He admired the way the stars twinkled, reminding him of the unpredictable beauty life could offer. A gentle breeze carried the scent of the ripening grapes, mingling with the earthy aroma of the soil.It was a reminder of the labor and patience that went into nurturing the vines, a metaphor for the relationships he hoped to cultivate back home.
He thought of Julesa once more, imagining her presence beside him, sharing the tranquility of this place. It was more than just a vineyard; it was a testament to his dedication and dreams. He wished for her to see beyond the past hurts and recognize the potential for new beginnings.
Jordan rose from his seat, the decision forming in his mind. He would give Julesa the space she needed, but he would also reach out, letting her know that he was there, ready to support her. It was a delicate balance, much like tending to the grapevines, requiring both patience and care.
With a final look at the starlit sky, Jordan made his way inside, a sense of resolve settling within him.
He was about to get ready for bed when his phone rang. Frowning at the intrusion, he settled on the edge of the bed and reached for it. Stunned pleasure stormed through him as he looked at the caller ID. For a second, he let it ring, before he realized that he really should answer it. Forcing his voice to remain calm, he pressed the icon.
"Hi."
"Did I wake you? I know it's late."
He wanted to tell her that even if he was in a coma, hearing her voice would have brought him out of it. "I was outside sipping wine. Everything okay?"
"Yes. Just, you know—just checking in."
"I did not want to call. That's a damn lie. I wanted to check in myself, but did not want to crowd you. I'm happy you did. And I wish you were here. It's lovely, but would have been even more so, if you were here."
"Jordan—"
"Coming on too strong?" Kicking back, he bunched the pillows beneath his head, prepared to spend a sleepless night listening to her voice. "I'm not going to apologize, babe. I want you to know how I feel and am not going to hide it any longer. Besides, it is pretty obvious that I am in love with you."
He waited tensely as the silence stretched out.
"We have things to work out and telling me that while you're thousands of miles away is hardly fair."
