Nonna’s funeral was on an orange October afternoon in the small church up the lane. She’d been very specific in her wishes—cremation, a short Mass, and a long party—and we complied. After we opened her house to friends and family to visit her urn, Dad and his brothers and sisters scattered her ashes in her garden and surreptitiously around her favorite spots in Montepulciano, as she’d instructed. It seemed a little weird to want your earthly remains at your favorite fishmonger’s stall, but the fishmonger removed his hat and held it to his chest as they did the deed, even saying a few words remembering Nonna for her kindness and impeccable taste in seafood. It was a beautiful day and a sad day, all wrapped up in love for the woman she’d been, the family she’d created, and the life she’d lived.
I’m profoundly glad I came. I only wish I’d done it sooner, so I could have more memories of Nonna than the precious handful I gathered during my childhood. Taking time off from the vineyard, traveling here, visiting relatives—I wish I’d made space in my life toexperiencemy life and the others in it, long before now. All my fears of leaving Bluebell Vineyards in the hands of my friends have come to naught. The love and support so freely given by my community has been nothing short of amazing, leaving me choked up and humble. Hannah’s jumped in on festival preparations with truly unhinged positivity. Tristan’s called in moonlighters to cover tasting room shifts for the next week and is attacking the vineyard’s normal paperwork with gusto and ease. Even Matthew atEveryday BonVivanthas pitched in, commandeering my to-do list like a pirate greedy for logistics.
And Laine. Even though I panicked, and showed her, yet again, that I struggle to believe in her love, she’s been there for me, supporting me from afar. Before the plane takes off, I send the text I should’ve sent every minute I’ve been away.
Zoe
I love you, Laine Woods. Everything will be okay because we’ll make it okay.
Somehow, my brain adds quietly.
The attendant walks by, and I hurry to turn my phone off, settling in for the long flight home. The sprawling metropolis of Rome disappears as our plane lifts above the thin sheaf of clouds. I sigh, and Teddy turns in his seat and squints at me, as though he’s assessing my mental health.
“So …,” Teddy begins. “Lots to process. Should we start with how you’re going to tell Laine everything as soon as you get home, or how sexy Cosimo looks in Italian menswear?”
“Jesus, Teddy, can younotsweat my dad to my face?”
“No,” Teddy replies simply. “I cannot. Guess we better start with Laine then, hmm?”
I heave another sigh, effectively trapped. “Look, I want to tell her everything, but I don’t want her to feel pressured to stay out of guilt to keep my struggling vineyard afloat. I want her towantto stay, you know? If she knows Dad’s never coming back, how willIknow that—”
“That she’s staying out of love for you whilealsostaying because that decision will truly make her happiest, without secretly holding it against you for the rest of your lives?” Teddy arches an eyebrow.
I grimace. “Yes?”
“You won’t! You can’t know that. And this isn’t some test you can give her to see if she passes or fails.”
“Test? I don’ttest—”
Teddy leans his head back and groans. “I’ve developed a theory about you, would you like to hear it?”
“Not really,” I grumble, now regretting getting seats together.
“Understandable, personal growth is always a drag when it’s happening to you,” Teddy says, drumming his fingers on the armrests. “But I’m going to tell you anyway because I love you, and I’m tired of watching you sabotage your life.”
Teddy stops to clear his throat, and then, in a tone he usually reserves for discussing money, he says, “Zoe, my dear, you are a beautiful, whip-smart, delightful little coward. You’re terrified of being hurt and even more terrified of being loved. So instead of putting your neck out and showing someone howyoufeel, you withdraw and wait for them to prove how much they like you.”
I rear back. “I do not!”
Teddy looks down his nose at me, and without breaking stride, continues. “Maybe your suitor is brave, so they text you first, ask you out. You have a good time, you go home, but then, you do it all over again. You wait for them to prove to you, again, how they feel. And if they don’t text you, if theydarewait to see if you’ll initiate contact first? You chalk it up to another rejection, the one you were so afraid would happen that you willed it into existence. It’s like giving them a never-ending test that, even if they pass it, you force them to take again and again, every day. Do you see the problem with this approach?”
Is that really what I do? A dozen tiny relationships click through my mind like PowerPoint slides, throwing themselves into the ring for reassessment. Did Kai really ghost me? Or did she ask me on three dates andwait for me to take a turn doing the asking? Have I really willed each of my many rejections into existence?
“Jesus,” I hiss out, then unscrew the cap off the mini wine bottle he hands me. He must’ve shaken down the attendants when we boarded the plane. “What the hell have I done?”
“Tried your very hardest to protect your heart,” Teddy says matter-of-factly. “Have you ever heard of your inner firefighters?”
“Huh? No,” I mumble, still trying to process the bomb he’s dropped on me. “Firefighters?”
“Inside every person is a team of firefighters. They’re trained to put out fires and save you, even if they destroy everything else in your house. Sometimes the damage they cause trying to save you is worse than whatever made you summon them in the first place.”
“What are you saying? Is this more Brené Brown?”
Teddy reaches over and places his hand on my arm. “I’m saying you have a large, robust team of firefighters, Zoe Brennan. A whole sexy calendar’s worth.” He smirks. “Maybe you should try giving them a night off sometime, eh? Maybe a whole year.”
I bite my lips, and after a long second, nod. “So how do I do that?”
“You’ve got be vulnerable, baby. Go home and tell Laine everything. What you really want, and what you’re afraid of, lay out all your options. No more secret tests. Then, letherdecide what she wants to do next. You don’t get to be her boss on this one, and if she chooses to be the Cosimo to your Julie, then that’sherchoice thatshegets to make, just like your dad did. But Laine can’t make that decision without all the information. You’ve got to be brave enough to give it to her.”
