I pause to listen, to laugh, to trade gentle jests born of shared toil. This chorus of gratitude is the part I cherish most.
Nico slips in as another cork pops with a celebratory crack.
I spot him near the edge of the courtyard—jacket slung carelessly over his forearm, face warm under the string lights as his gaze sweeps the crowd, searching.
The moment our eyes meet, he smiles and moves toward me, the urgency in his stride matching my own. We meet halfway.
He pulls me into him, and I melt into his embrace, the ease of it telling me how much he’s missed me—how much I’ve missed him.
“Cara,” he murmurs before lowering his mouth to mine.
Someone whistles.
A cheer ripples through the courtyard.
The crew is just drunk enough, just loose enough, to delight in seeing a newly married couple caught in a moment.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it in time for dinner,” I admit.
He kisses my nose. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Hey! I’m here, too,” Renzo calls out in mock offense. “Where’s my kiss?”
He steps in, and—still held securely by Nico—I rise onto my toes to brush a kiss against Renzo’s cheek.
Nico promptly pulls me back, a low growl in his throat. “Find your own woman.”
Someone presses wine glasses into Nico and Renzo’s hands—I think it’s Lucia, but I’m too busy looking at my husband to pay attention.
“This is dangerous territory,” Renzo warns, lifting the glass. “I’ve been up since five this morning.”
“Not a reason,” someone shouts back from the table. “That’s an excuse! Bottoms up, Vitale.”
Renzo laughs and tips back the wine.
“Well?” Edam asks as he passes by with a bottle cradled under his arm.
Renzo swirls his glass once more, thoughtful. “It’s like velvet,” he admits.
Edam grins. “One hundred percent Merlot. On its feet, it could compete with Masseto.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Easy, Edam.”
He lifts a shoulder, unapologetic. “Different paths, same destination.”
I like his enthusiasm, even if it’s misplaced. Masseto is built for power and time with decades of reputation behind it. Ours is younger, still finding its voice.
Renzo says something that makes everyone laugh, but I get distracted when my phone purrs in my jeans. I pull away from Nico to check it.
“Bad news?” Nico murmurs, leaning in.
I shake my head, smiling, and turn the screen toward him.
Alba:I hate that I can’t be there. Take pictures. Drink something spectacular for me.
Toni:Me, too. Renzo says it’s one hell of a party.
I cock an eyebrow and look at Renzo, who’s talking to some of the crew from Senegal, and then at Nico. “Do you get the feeling that Toni and Renzo talk a lot?”
