“Please,” she said and held out her glass for me.“I like this one the best so far.How many kinds of wine does Carlo mark?”she giggled and corrected herself, “I mean, make.”
I chuckled to myself and poured more into my own glass, as well.“Quite a few.”
She licked her lips.“Do you think he'll let me taste all of them?”she asked innocently enough.But my mind traveled somewhere else entirely.
“Oh, I think Carlo will let you taste anything you want of his.”And wasn't that just the fuckin' truth?If everything went to plan—that was exactly what would happen.
“Oh, that's nice.Carlo's a good guy.He's not as big and scary as he looks.”
That made me fuckin' laugh.Because my brother could be one mean asshole.But Francesca would never see that side of him.
I sat down beside my wife and held her hand as we looked out at the view.
“I think blue is my new favorite color,” she said with a slight hiccup that made me smile.“These exact blues.”She pointed to the sky and the water.“I don't think I've ever seen these shades before.”
I felt that deep down in my gut.To know Francesca loved this as much as I did—
Well, it was more than satisfying.
“What was your favorite color before?”I asked, wondering what she was going to tell me.
Instead—she said nothing.She pressed her lips together and tilted her head like she was in deep thought.
After a while, I asked, “Well?”when she hadn't answered.
All she did was shrug.“I don't think I've ever had a favorite color before.Hmm.That's weird.”
I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it.“I don't think it's weird at all.You didn't know these colors existed until now.But these have always been yours.”
She smiled lazily.“Yeah.That's a nice way to think about it.”Her eyes dropped to her glass, and she held it up.“Although this pink color is definitely a close second.”
My head fell back as I laughed at my partially drunk wife.But she wasn't wrong.Rosé in our glasses, or Rosato as we call it here in Italy, was a very pretty pink.Almost coral color.
She tipped back the glass and drank half of it.“And it tastes really, really, really good.”
Fuck.
I was a lucky bastard.I pulled on her hand, encouraging her to come closer so I could kiss those pink lips of hers.Which—incidentally—had quickly become my favorite color.“I love you, wife.”I touched my lips to hers, and she instantly opened for me.
Yeah.
My wife was sufficiently boozy.And soft.She tasted of the subtle strawberry notes of the Rosato.
Utterly delicious.
But Francesca was tasty all over.
Rosato.
Or.
No.
“You are more beautiful than this view will ever be.”
A giggle bubbled up and out of her.“I am not.”She turned her head toward the water and the sky.“Look at that.”She sighed as her eyes became glossy.“There's nothing that beautiful.”
I kissed her cheek.“I disagree.You are a billion times more beautiful.”
