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“Yes. He says he wants to enjoy life and travel with my mother while they still can.”
“As they should,” she says, and we both smile.
I can only hope I will live long enough to grow old with this woman who has captivated me with her tenacity and beauty.
“The point is, my father has decided to put one more requirement in place to hand the vineyard and the entirety of the Godoy assets over to me.”
I pause, gauging her response, and her eyes are glued to mine.
“I need to get married before the next planting season.”
Camila doesn’t move. She doesn’t even seem to be breathing.
“You are. I mean. Are you—?” She coughs and takes a sip of water. “You’re getting married? Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I feel like Ava and I took advantage of you yesterday. I apologize, Mr. Godoy. I apologize deeply.”
“Camila,” I say as I grab her hand, attempting to calm her and stop her babbling. “I haven’t dated in years. Hell, I haven’t even hooked up with a woman in well over a year.”
“What are you saying?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I clear my throat, trying to gain some courage, and then take a deep breath.
No turning back now.
Locking eyes with her, I finally say the words.
“Camila, I would like to marry you.”
My thumb traces soft circles on the top of her hand, an attempt to calm my nerves—and maybe hers too.
“What?”
Her voice goes up an octave, her eyes widening as she struggles not to choke.
She fans herself with the napkin, and I can already tell this isn’t going the way I had hoped.
What was I thinking?
That she’d be so grateful I asked her to marry me after spendingone daywith her and her daughter?
Yeah, Godoy. You’re fucking delusional.
“Just hear me out. You’re an exceptional woman, Camila. You’ve carried the weight of the world on your shoulders for far too long—and somehow, you make it look effortless.”
I lean in, my gaze locked on hers, willing her to believe me.
“But you don’t have to do it alone. Let me be the one who stands beside you. Let me share the weight, the worry,andthe wins. Let me be there for you.”
Because God help me, I want to be.
“What? Why me?” she asks, fisting the napkin and nervously playing with it.
I chuckle at the disbelief on her face. “I just told you. I think you are remarkable, Camila. The kind of woman I should marry.”
“But we barely know each other. You’re my boss. I have a daughter.”
She starts listing all the reasons this is a bad idea, her voice rising with each one. Then, as if touching me only makes it worse, she yanks her hand from mine and grabs her water, chugging it in one big gulp.
I stay calm, watching her process my proposal. “But we’ll have time to get to know each other. And worst case? If things don’t work out, you can walk away with two million pounds.”