Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I smiled. “I want to open my own place, my own vineyard.”
Her smile faltered, but then she seemed to catch it, and the corners of her lips tilted upward again. “Oh. Okay.”
“Why do I feel like you’re disappointed?”
“I’m not.” She shook her head. “I just thought… You said an adventure, that’s all.”
“You don’t think buying my own land and starting my own business is an adventure?”
“No, no…it is.” She smiled again, but it felt forced. “I think that would be great for you.”
“For us…”
“Right, that’s what I said.”
“No, you said for you… That’s different than for us.”
She sat up. “Well, I meant us… Why are you picking at my words?”
“I guess because I want this to be for us. I found land in Montepulciano that has good soil, good sun, and a nice house—a place we could plant roots.”
She was quiet for a few beats and then smiled, this time bigger. “That sounds great.”
“Does it?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”
“You sure?”
She tilted her head. “If you are. I mean…owning your own vineyard is a big responsibility. I don’t want you jumping into something unless it’s really what you want.”
“It is. I know it will be a ton of work, but I feel like I can handle it. And it’ll be worth it in da long run.”
“Then it’s settled.” She leaned in and kissed me. “We’re opening a vineyard.”
I cupped the back of her neck and kept her close. “You’re sure?”
“Stop asking me that.” She laughed. “Of course. Let’s do it.”
I brushed my thumb across her cheek. “And maybe…down da road, once we’re settled in our own place, we start a family?”
She hesitated, but only for a second. “Not right away. But someday? Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
My chest swelled. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to hear her say those words. I leaned back, looking up at the stars in the sky, excited for things to come. Planting roots. Growing our future. Together.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the quiet moment.
But when I opened them again, Izzy was already looking away, her smile fixed just a little too perfectly.
Chapter 36
Allegra
TWO DAYS LATER, I still hadn’t heard from Matteo.
I’d wanted to go next door at least a dozen times to apologize again. But I thought he might need time to grieve for the version of the marriage he’d thought he’d had. Because how do you process something like that? Finding out someone you loved wasn’t the person you’d believed them to be. It was betrayal tangled in grief, and there wasn’t even anyone to yell at anymore. I knew firsthand how hard it was to accept something like that.
I told myself it was right to give him space. I thought he’d come around when he was ready to talk. So I stayed home—cooked meals from my grandmother’s recipe cards that I didn’t eat, and answered emails I didn’t care about. I sat outside on my grandmother’s swing, looking to the tall trees for advice and watching the leaves that had been bright green when I arrived turn brown and brittle. And I tried not to look out the window and stare at his house—though I failed miserably.
I was sitting at the kitchen table, fingers wrapped around a mug of long-cold coffee, when my phone rang. The shrill sound startled me. The house had been so damn quiet the last few days. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, so I almost didn’t check the screen and instead, let it go to voicemail. But at the last second, I flipped it over and saw a name that made me smile for the first time in two days. My sister. The term was starting to feel less foreign now.
“Ciao,” I answered.
“Ciao,” she replied. Her voice was bright and full of energy, the opposite of what I felt. “Do you like…how do you say…burning pigs?”
I blinked. “Burning pigs?”
“Yes, you know, the whole pig. On the spit. With the skin all crispy like. We call it porchetta.”
“Oh! Roasted pig.” I laughed. That was a little bit different from the visual burning pig had given me. “Yes, I’ve only had it once. But it was delicious.”
“Brava!” she said. “So, I ask because next weekend we go to the village festival near me, on Saturday. There is dancing, fireworks, porchetta, wine—lots and lots of wine. Sometimes a fistfight or two, if we’re lucky. I want you to come with me.”
I smiled. “That sounds like fun.”
“Okay. Then it’s a date. Now, tell me what is wrong.”
“How…how do you know something is wrong?”
“I can hear it in your voice. You sound like you just bit into your prosciutto sandwich and found out the butcher give you turkey instead.”
I laughed. “It’s…nothing.”
“Come on now. I will support you, like you will support me when I call you to ask if it’s okay to Venmo-request my bad date my hourly rate for wasting my time.”