He did not just say that.
“What are you talking about, Pietro?”
He frowns, and it could be the prosecco here, but I think I catch a glint of guilt in his gaze.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It must be the pre-wedding jitters.”
Feeling bold and angry as well, I take a couple of steps closer. “Pietro, were you ever attracted to me?”
“Come on, Chiara. Let’s forget I said anything, okay?”
“No, you can’t take those words back.”
His thick eyebrows furrow, and his lips turn into a thin, flat line. It’s his trademark expression when he’s feeling cornered.
Shit, I can’t believe this is happening, but I can’t back down now. I have to know.
“Answer me, Pietro!” I raise my voice, not caring if we’re overheard.
“All right. I had a huge crush on you when we were at All Saints. God, I thought you knew.”
My stomach bottoms out. I feel like I’ve been sucker punched. With wobbly steps, I reach for the granite top of the sink, fighting to get air into my lungs.
“Shit, Chiara. I swore to myself I would never say anything to you. I felt like such a perv for crushing on you. It doesn’t matter anyway. I eventually moved on. Then Paola came along, and, well, the rest is history.”
I can barely hear what he’s saying over the loud sound of my pulse hammering in my ears.
“I-I can’t be here.”
Pushing him out of my way, I run out of the bathroom as if the devil is after me, rushing down the stairs two steps at a time. It’s a miracle I don’t twist an ankle. I veer toward the front door, ready to bolt and skip this fucking wedding. No way in hell I’ll be able to stand aside and watch my hateful cousin marry the man of my dreams. Knowing it could have been me in her place if Pietro and I hadn’t been such cowards and concerned about society makes it a thousand—no, a billion times worse.
I bump into Grandpa outside, struggling with his cane as he tries to get into the sporty convertible I know doesn’t belong to him.
“Where are you going, Nonno?” I ask.
“Your useless father forgot to bring the cigars. I’m going into town to get them.”
“No you’re not, Dad.” My mother’s voice rings out right behind me, making my skin crawl. I don’t want to deal with her on top of everything else.
“We can’t have a wedding without cigars.”
“You just took your medication, and you know how woozy it makes you. You’ll get into a car wreck.”
Grandpa, being the proud man he is, glares at his daughter, who does the same in return. Stuck in the middle, I see that as the perfect opportunity to get out of here.
“I’ll get the cigars for you, Nonno.”
“Nonsense. We’ll send someone from the catering company. You’re needed inside, Chiara.”
With a quick glance in her direction, I see that if I don’t go now, she’ll drag me back to the house by my hair if necessary. I search for my car and notice it’s been moved and is now stuck between two catering company vans. Shit! Needing to make a hasty exit, I veer toward one of the villa’s Vespas because Grandpa is still halfway inside the little convertible.
As usual, the key is already in the ignition. The engine turns on with a creaking noise, and before my mother can do anything to stop me, I take off.
2
Alistair
I’m such a fucking moron. Slamming my palm against the side of the car, I look ahead at the deserted road. It stretches on for miles without a sign of life nearby. I can’t be that far from the winery.
Glaring at the useless phone in my hand, I feel tempted to break it to pieces. Forgetting to charge the blasted thing last night was exactly what I needed on top of a flat tire. Now I can either walk back to town or wait for someone to drive by and hope to score a ride.
I should have checked if the rental car had a jack before I accepted it. What good is a spare tire if I can’t lift the damn car off the ground to change it? I rub my face and fight the urge to scream from the top of my lungs. This was supposed to be a stress-free trip, a reward to myself after all the bullshit I went through in the last year.
Coming to Tuscany had always been on my bucket list, but I never imagined I’d be here alone. Bitterness pools in my mouth. I thought I’d bring my two-faced, soon-to-be ex-wife here. I’ve always believed that when I married someone, that would be it. Now I’m twenty-six and getting a divorce.
In hindsight, I’m glad I never had the chance to bring Nadine here. At least this gorgeous place won’t be tainted with memories of her.
I arrived in Siena two days ago, and everything went well—I mean, as well as things can go when you travel to a country where you don’t speak the language. Custom differences aside, the trip met all my expectations until today. I should have known nothing good could happen after I was dumb enough to check my emails this morning and became aware of the shitstorm that’s waiting for me back home.
Not only did I receive an email from my lawyer with Nadine’s new demands, but my replacement fell through, and I have to teach my class next semester after all. The plan was to take a year off. I could say the hell with the job, but the school’s principal is an old friend of mine. I can’t fuck him over.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to go back to LA though. Traveling and doing different things is what kept my head above water, what prevented me from going apeshit on the asshole Nadine was cheating on me with—one of my friends.
My hands curl into fists by my sides. Now that the shock of discovery has worn off, I’m mostly angry at myself. How could I have been so blind?
“This is hopeless.”
I lock the car and veer toward town. Staying here and hoping for a miracle won’t cut it. I’m not looking forward to the long haul on foot though.
