"I will. She'll be thrilled." He gestured at the empty stool beside me at the bar. "May I?"
I nodded, and he settled onto the stool with the easy grace of someone comfortable in his body. Up close, I could see the details I'd missed before. A small scar near his left eyebrow. The laugh lines around his eyes. The way his hands moved when he talked, expressive and unhurried, painting pictures in the air.
My eyes darted down to his chest. His shirt moved as he shifted, revealing the beginning or end of a tattoo.
I’d like to see that someday.
"So," he said, his voice pulling me back to the present. "What brings you to my humble abode?”
I laughed despite myself. "I was in desperate need of a drink."
His expression softened with what looked like understanding. “I’m glad I could be of service.”
I took a sip of wine, and he was right. Ithadneeded to breathe. The flavors were opening up now, rich and complex. "This is very good."
"Thank you. I've been making it for twelve years." He said it simply, without arrogance. "Since my father died, I took over the vineyard. It was almost nothing then. A few acres, old vines, equipment held together with prayers and duct tape."
"And now?"
"Now we export to fourteen countries. Three restaurants in Florence feature us exclusively. And I'm here, at a fancy party in New York, trying not to bore beautiful women with stories about wine." His smile turned self-deprecating. "I'm not always successful at the not-boring part."
"You're not boring me."
"Give it time."
I laughed, and it felt good. Genuine. “How much time would it require?”
He shrugged. “Depends, how much time do you have?”
I was intrigued by him, pleasantly so. Drawn in despite myself, despite the fact that minutes ago I'd been kissing another man. But the night had already been too much for me to turn my flirt on properly. My flirt was exhausted, battered, hiding somewhere under the ruins of my composure.
So I decided to ease the tension by taking another sip of wine, letting the flavors roll across my tongue. "I don't know, maybe…"
“...alive and spend the rest of your life with me?"
The words cut through the ambient noise like a knife. I immediately whirled around, nearly spilling my wine, and found myself looking at Sebastian on one knee in front of Aria.
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed and rushed to my feet, leaving my unfinished wine on the bar, and leaving Matteo Rossi with whatever he'd been about to say.
“Hey, you didn’t…”
I heard someone calling behind me, but I was too excited to look back, too caught up in the moment. I pushed through the crowd to reach them, my brother and his love, my heels clicking rapidly against the floor.
Sebastian caught me in a hug so tight it lifted me off my feet, and for a moment I was eight years old again, being swung around in our father's study, back when things were simpler.
"I'm so happy for you," I said into his shoulder, and meant it with every fiber of my being. My voice came out thick with emotion, tears already pricking at the corners of my eyes.
"Thank you." His voice was rough, choked with feeling. I released him and immediately pulled Aria into my arms. Shewas still crying, laughing through it, her mascara a lost cause. She’d never looked more beautiful.
"Welcome to the family," I told her, squeezing tight.
"Thank you. Thank you." She squeezed back hard enough to hurt, and I loved her for it. "I can't believe this is happening."
Then, Xavier was there, grinning wider than I'd ever seen him. "We're engaged!" he announced, as if we couldn't see that ourselves, as if the ring on Kim's finger wasn't catching every light in the room.
And before I could process what was happening, we were all screaming and hugging each other in a tangle of limbs and joy and family.
Two engagements. One night.
