“Well, we invested in everything we needed for the fair—the stand, the logistics, the samples, the travel. At the end of the week, Selfridges offered us an exclusive deal for part of our line. In short, we’re potential future billionaires.”
“Who are currently totally broke. Cheers,” says Cosimo, smiling tipsily.
“How wonderful, guys,” I say, sighing in admiration. “I’d love to get our wines on the international market.”
“Then do it!” he replies, as if it were obvious. “Take your best bottles, sign up for the most important fair you can find, and introduce the label to anyone who matters.”
He’s not entirely wrong. I know we make excellent wine, and if I found good buyers, I’d certainly have more leverage with the bank. “I’ll think about it,” I say with conviction.
“Oof,” Margherita snorts, leaning forward as we all look at her wide-eyed.
“Everything okay?” Giada asks.
“Yes, it’s these fucking false contractions. Anyway, it passed. All jokes aside, looks like we’re all in relationships—it’s just you left, Caroline,” she chirps cheerfully.
“Better alone than in bad company,” she replies dryly. “And in any case, you’re wrong. Michael is also happily single,” she points out with a smile that I feel is directed at me.
“Ah, I must have misunderstood. Cosimo and Andres, Lapo and me, Lucia and Elmo, Carletto and Giada, and then seeing Michael and Elisa sitting so close, I just assumed ... The two of them have always been like chalk and cheese. Anyway, don’t mind me. It’s a shame, though, you’d make a nice couple,” comments Margherita, biting into a bruschetta.
“I’ll go get the dessert,” I say, standing up suddenly. I don’t want this conversation to escalate. Michael and I are already walking on the edge of a fiery ravine. All we need is for people to start speculating.
Would we make a nice couple? I don’t know. Maybe we’re one of those beautiful ideas—brilliant in theory but disastrous in practice. It’s almost certainly the latter. And in terms of disasters, we’d be like Fukushima.
But what if we did work out?
No, it would be a one-in-a-billion chance. He and I can’t stay in the same room without arguing or jumping on each other; it certainly doesn’t bode well ...
But . . .
Okay, that’s it. Enough of these mental movies—there is nobut! I take the tray with thezuccottoand stride out toward the pergola.
“Dessert!” I announce.
“I think we have to go,” says Lapo, helping Margherita to her feet.
“These aren’t false contractions. They’re real,” she pants. “We have to get going.”
“No!” Cosimo jumps up. “We’ll take you. Come on!”
“I’m off to sleep. I have a headache,” Caroline announces, in the tone of someone who has generously given her time to inferiors.
In short, the table empties, but not quite enough to leave Michael and me alone, and with the risk we took earlier, neither of us dares to make a move.
From this dinner, I seem to have emerged in more of a bind than ever.
31
Michael
I watch Elisa clear the table, but she doesn’t even spare me a glance; or rather, she does, but as soon as I intercept it, she looks away. It’s making me crazy.
I have to find a way to be with her. Alone, just the two of us.
32
Elisa
I’m rinsing dishes to load into the dishwasher, when I hear footsteps in the kitchen.
