Alba rests her forehead against mine.
“He didn’t defend me,” I continue.
“He thinks he’s protecting you.”
“Of course he does.” I draw in a breath scented with must and earth. “He thinks love is shielding. He doesn’t realize it is standing by me when the room turns hostile.”
Alba cups my face in her hands. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want to leave him,” I admit. The confession tastes raw on my tongue. “But I can’t shrink. I won’t.”
“And you shouldn’t.” Her eyes are bright with conviction.
I pat her hands and step away from her and look out at my vines.
“For what it’s worth,” she adds softly, “I don’t think this is over. I think he’s just late to his own courage.”
I turn, meet her gaze. “And what if he never gets there?”
Alba smiles, a small, sad curve of her lips. “Then you will still be you. And that will be enough.”
A gentle silence settles between us. And after what feels like an eternity, I say, “You want to have dinner with me and stay the night?”
“Yes.”
“And listen to me complain about the man in my life?” I deadpan.
She smiles. “Absolutely.”
“He’s a very good lover,” I tell her as we walk to my house.
“He looks like he would be.”
“You mean he has experience?” I goad.
“Alessia, you did marry the playboy of the Italian wine world,” she teases.
I stop and look at her, all my fears surfacing. “Then why does he say he wants me, Alba? I am…I am?—”
“The most beautiful, kind, and capable woman he knows. That’s word-to-word what he said to me.”
I don’t want to believe her, but Alba doesn’t lie. And, well, neither does Nico. If he said it, he means it. But what does he know? He’s probably lying to himself to make a good strategic decision from a business perspective.
“He means it, Alessia,” Alba insists as if reading my mind.
“I deleted all his messages,” I told her and feel a little regret for being so angry that I did that. Now I wish I could hear his voice.
She purses her lips as if stifling a smile. “I’m sure he’s going to keep pushing to get back in your good graces. You’ll have new voice messages to delete or…to listen to.”
“You sure?” I ask, all my bravado vanishing. “You sure I haven’t lost him?”
She laughs. “Alessia, you could fuck the entire Viola soccer team, and you wouldn’t lose him.”
I open my door and send her a flat, unimpressed stare.
“You think I overreacted?” I ask as we settle into my living room.
I pull out my phone to text Zoya to send dinner for two to the house.
