“You’ll come up to the farm?” he asked, hopeful.
I let my mouth hang open for a moment, trying to work out a proper response, and then I caved and nodded, adding an indecipherable hum on top. He grinned and Katerina looped her arm through mine, tugging me away from the restaurant.
We hurried back to my hotel and I insisted she come up and see my room.
“It’s very messy,” I warned as I turned the old key and pushed the door open.
“If you’ve got wine, I won’t mind the mess.”
I grinned and presented the bottle of Sciacchetrà I’d picked up on a whim at the shops that afternoon. I’d nearly stuffed it in the package for Freddie and Andie (lord knows they needed it with those nieces and nephew of mine running them ragged) but I’d held on to it instead.
Katerina clapped with excitement.
“I don’t have any glasses though.”
The hotel wasn’t like the proper ones I was used to staying in. There were no mini bars or room service.
She shrugged. “We’ll share.”
And with that, she popped the top and took a long swig, handing me the bottle after her. It was my first time trying Sciacchetrà, but the woman at the shop had raved about it. Apparently it’s made from Vermintino grapes and has a sweet, honey-ish flavor—perfect for sitting at my window with Katerina and taking in the last few minutes of the sunset.
“Pass it, you hog.”
I took another quick sip and she laughed as I handed it back over.
I hadn’t known Katerina long, but there was a level of comfort between us that usually took years to develop. I glanced over to her, admiring the way she’d wrapped up her long blonde hair into a knot on top of her head. Her dress was just as stylish as the one she’d worn the day before, and I guessed she’d been quite popular in school. She gave off that sort of vibe, but without the snarky attitude.
“So Paolo didn’t sweep you off your feet?” she asked, handing me the bottle.
I took a long swig, wiped the drop slipping down my chin, and shook my head. “No.”
“Shame.”
“Shame,” I agreed.
“You fancy Gianluca, don’t you?”
I blushed, a fierce red shade I prayed she couldn’t see. “What? Why would you say that?”
Had I been that transparent at dinner the night before? I’d stared at him a few times, but I hadn’t realized I’d made a show of it or anything.
She sighed, this sad, hopeless sound that nearly broke my heart.
“Because women always do,” explained Katerina. “They think they’ll swoop in and coax him out of his shell. They want to heal him like a bird with a broken wing, but it’s actually easier with birds, because they want to fly so badly. Gianluca—well, for the past five years, he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to be healed. He wants to stay on the ground.”
“Where it’s safe,” I muttered.
After that, we passed the bottle in silence until it was empty.
“YOU KNOW, MOST people shower before they eat in my restaurant.”
I glanced up from my plate of seafood pasta to find Massimo grinning at me from across the bar.
“I came from the farm. I was helping Paolo with the harvest.”
“Hopefully the produce was less ripe than you are. You’re scaring away my customers.”
I turned round to find every table was full. I turned back to him with an arched brow and he chuckled before walking away.
I was sweaty, but nothing more than normal. The arsehole could have thanked me for helping him get out of a bind after one of his employees had called in sick, but Massimo wasn’t the appreciative type.
“More wine?”
I glanced at my untouched glass and then up to the new waitress Massimo had hired last month. I couldn’t remember her name.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“You do smell,” she spoke in Italian with a flirtatious smile. When I didn’t reply, she went on. “But I think it smells good. Manly. If anything, you’re attracting more customers.”
I wasn’t good at this.
Banter.
Flirting.
I’d had sex since Allie’s death. People were always curious about that. Massimo nearly chewed my head off about the risk of “losing it” if I didn’t “use it”, and well, I had, though not nearly enough, and never with a woman I felt anything for. I’d take the train into the La Spezia with him or Paolo, or another hand from the farm. We’d go to one of the usual spots and sometimes the night ended with sex, and sometimes I rode the train back home with Massimo, him going on about how I’d lost the magic touch.
I hated it.
When I married Allie, I thought I’d moved past the dating part of my life. I still knew all the things I was supposed to do, supposed to say, but it felt forced and unnatural, like I was in a bad dream.
“What are your plans for tonight?” she asked, eyeing me as she wiped down the bar with a rag.
Truthfully, I needed to continue working on the wall outside my house, and I needed to clear away a bit of the foliage that had grown nearly out of control. I could hardly see my front door past the bougainvillea. I could spend the rest of the day working on chores, but she didn’t want to know that.
“Work,” I replied with a committed tone. There was no room for change and when she caught on to my meaning, her smile faded a little.
“Well, if you ever want to go for a drink, let me know.”