Page 112 of The Fall Affair

“Oh.” I smiled. “Well, what’s fair is fair, I suppose.”

She wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “Allegra is my sister. Half sister, but we don’t do anything halfway in Italy, so from now on, just my sister, yes? She is also a lawyer, but in America.”

Emilio extended his hand, and when I placed mine in his, he lifted it to his lips for a kiss. “I see that beauty and brains run in the family.”

She waved him off. “Don’t bother, old man. Our father stayed for her, so Niccolo is more her age bracket. But she’s taken.” She looked to me. We hadn’t spoken since before things ended with Matteo, except over text to figure out where we were meeting. “Taken, yes?”

I made a face that told her the answer.

“Oh boy.” She looped her arm through mine and started us walking, yelling back to the men over her shoulder, “Ciao!”

We wandered past booths of handmade jewelry and lavender soaps. Camilla smiled and waved at another woman, then leaned close and whispered, “That is Margherita. She sleeps with her husband’s best friend and thinks no one knows.”

I glanced over. “Really? She looks so proper.”

“Tell me what happened with your Matteo. Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t feel up to talking about it.”

She shook her head. “I would’ve come. We could’ve salted his vines so nothing ever grows there again—except his bad decisions.”

I chuckled. “You definitely would’ve gotten along with our grandmother.”

My sister pulled me toward a booth selling cones of little fried dough balls with powdered sugar, and we took a seat on a bench near the edge of the square to eat them.

“Castagnole…” She popped one in her mouth. “These and new lipstick will make everything better.”

I smiled sadly. “I wish it were that easy.”

“Talk to me,” she said. “What is weighing on you?”

I watched the crowd as I spoke. “I’m not sure if I should stay in Tuscany.”

“You want to go back to New York?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what I want.”

She took another bite of dough and held the cone out to me. “You know, my madre, she built her whole life around our father for a long time. She was happy when he would visit. She’d get all dressed up pretty and wear bright lipstick, play music, and they’d dance in the kitchen. But then after he would leave, not so much happy. It wasn’t until she finally decided to build a life for herself that her happiness stayed. She quit her job as a secretary and opened her own dress shop. Traveled alone. Put the music on for herself and danced, even when no one was around. And that’s when she found the love she deserved.”

I stared at the little halos around the lights overhead. “I love it here. I really do. I can’t remember the last time I felt such inner peace. I’ve learned to appreciate the things I wouldn’t have taken the time to at home—being outside with nothing but a glass of wine and my thoughts, the change of seasons, riding a Vespa through the postcard beauty of Montepulciano. But I used to love my life in New York, too. At least, I thought I did.” I shook my head slowly. “It’s just such a big decision.”

“You don’t have to make it right now,” Camilla said. “But you should figure out what you want, before you try to figure out how to make things work with Matteo.”

I bumped my shoulder against hers. “I’m supposed to be the older, wiser sister.”

She smiled. “If you noticed, Niccolo is more my age than Emilio. I think sometimes we are much better at giving others advice than taking our own.” Camilla stood and tugged me with her. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

The rest of the night felt like something out of a dream. We drank wine—too much, probably—and wandered cobblestone streets filled with people. There was music everywhere. An older man with an accordion played from a balcony on the second floor. A four-piece band played punk rock that seemed out of place, even if they were good. A young man standing outside a restaurant, trying to wrangle people to come in, handed us two shots of limoncello we didn’t ask for but drank anyway. Past midnight, Camilla pulled me in to dance with a group of strangers, and we laughed so hard, I nearly fell over. A fight did break out near the fried calamari stand, but it only lasted a minute and ended in applause for reasons I didn’t understand but I clapped for anyway.

We drank more wine after that, and I wound up crashing at Camilla’s place on an old, lumpy green couch that smelled like lavender.

***

The next morning, sun streaming through the partially shuttered windows woke me. My head ached, but not nearly as bad as it probably should’ve. Last night had been just what I needed, though it had only stopped the heartache for a while, and my first thoughts were of Matteo.

I waited until Camilla woke before heading out, not wanting to be rude.

She padded into the living room, hair wild, and smiled. “I’m so glad it’s you.” She rubbed her eyes. “I heard someone moving around and thought I might’ve brought Emilio home with me. Old people always get up so early.”