Abnerys Reyes's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

For three days after his confession, Sebastian kept his distance. He nodded to Abnerys across the vineyard rows. He answered her questions about the drainage in short, flat sentences. He never met her eyes. She had won his heart and lost his ease all at once, and she could feel the gap between them growing wider each morning. She would not let it harden. On the fourth day, she caught him at the toolshed and spoke before he could turn away. "We need to talk about the workers. Tonight. There's a restaurant in town. I'm buying." He hesitated. Then he said yes. The place glowed with candles when they arrived. A striped awning hung over the door. Pots of basil and olive lined the wall. Inside, the light was soft and gold. A waiter led them to a small table near the window. Sebastian sat stiffly, as if the room itself might trap him. Abnerys did not open with the workers. She opened with him. "You've been hiding since that night at my cottage," she said. "I want to know why." He turned his wine glass without drinking. "I said too much. You came into this partnership for the land, not for me. I didn't want to make you regret the deal." "You think your feelings scare me off the vineyard?" She leaned in. "They don't. But I need you to hear me clearly. I built my whole life around men who wanted my face and nothing else. When you asked why vineyards, you asked the real question. Nobody had done that before." He looked up. For the first time in four days, he held her gaze. "I'm not running," she said. "But I won't stumble into something either. I want to know your mind the way you wanted to know mine. Slowly. Honestly. As partners first." Sebastian let out a breath. His shoulders dropped. "I can do that," he said. "I'd rather have you at the table than lose you to my own silence." The stiffness left him. They talked for two hours. He told her about his grandfather planting the first vines. She told him about the fields she still dreamed of fixing. The candle burned down between them. Only at the end did she raise the real trouble. "The workers still won't come," she said. "Six hands can't dig the drainage alone." Sebastian nodded slowly. "There's one man who might. He owes my family a debt. But he'll only work the land if we can prove the curse is a lie to the whole town, not just to me." Abnerys set down her fork. She had mended the rift with Sebastian. She had his trust and something warmer beneath it. But now the vineyard demanded she convince an entire town of what she already knew. "Then we prove it publicly," she said. "Tell me about this man."