Page 14 of The Fall Affair

Allegra

“SHE’S PREGNANT!”

The following morning, I woke to my phone ringing and answered before my brain was entirely ready to process. Wiping sleep from my eyes, I pushed up to my elbows and tried to track Cassie’s line of thought. “Who’s pregnant?”

“Sierra!” Cassie shouted.

I bolted the rest of the way upright. “You’re kidding me?”

“Nope. Apparently, she’s three months along. Though we’re going to pretend not to notice the bitch is still skinnier than me.”

I chuckled. “Is it Harry’s?”

“No one knows who the baby daddy is. She told one of the attorneys she’s been seeing someone and it’s his. Seems like we’re still the only two who know about her and Harry, so people have decided it’s some guy she’s dating.”

“Wow. That’s… I don’t know what it is. Sad, maybe?”

Cassie laughed. “I know. I have very mixed feelings. I’m here for the drama, but I hate the thought of a child being brought up in that big old mess if it’s Harry’s.”

“I was never a big fan of Sierra, but for her sake, and the baby’s, I really hope it’s not his.”

“Yeah, me too. But enough about this place. What’s going on with you? How’s Italy?”

“Well, I only got in yesterday, but so far my flight was delayed eight hours, my rental ran out of gas and then got a flat tire, and…there was a flood in my grandmother’s house, and now I have nowhere to shower.”

“Oh my, that doesn’t sound good.”

I sighed. “I’m hoping today will be better. I used to love coming here. This place always felt magical.”

“Well, I’m sure it will. Maybe you’ll find a hot Italian plumber to fix your shower, and he can lay some pipe on you, too.”

“That’s the absolute last thing I need.” Though, as I said the words, my mind drifted to an image of the neighbor I’d met yesterday. I pictured him shirtless, casually watering my grandmother’s garden with a hose in one hand and drinking from a mug in the other. I bet he drank his coffee black—no cream or sugar for that guy.

“Shoot.” Cass lowered her voice. “I have to run. The queen just beckoned me.”

“The queen?”

“They reassigned me to Sierra.”

Thud. Oh, my heart. That one hurt. “Oh.”

“It’s only temporary,” she whispered. “Until you get a kick-ass job and rescue me from this place.”

I forced a smile, though we were on the phone and she couldn’t see me. “Have a good day, Cass.”

“You, too. And don’t be so quick to rule out a fling while you’re there. My roommate in college lived abroad our junior year, and she couldn’t shut up about what passionate lovers the men in Italy were.”

“Goodbye, Cass.”

“Later, girl.”

I stayed in bed another five minutes before dragging my ass to find some coffee. Luckily, I found a dusty, airtight, unopened canister full of grounds. While I brewed a pot on the stove in a hundred-year-old percolator, I looked out the second-floor window at my grandmother’s English garden below. As lush as ever, it was unruly and overgrown in the most beautiful way. Though it definitely needed some weeding. In the center of the only clearing sat a wooden bench and a moss-covered birdbath surrounded by ferns, swaying lavender, delphinium, roses in every color, and dozens of other wild plantings. A winding stone path led to an arch draped in wisteria, and a dozen lemon and lime trees were scattered across the garden. I pushed open the creaky window and took a deep breath, savoring the amazing scent of blooming flowers and my childhood. It lifted my spirits in a way only this place could. Though my heart also felt heavy that I hadn’t spent more time here in the last few years. I’d been too busy climbing the ladder at my firm—only to jump off a few rungs from the top with no net to catch me.

After I made my coffee, I went downstairs to the antique shop with my cat, Agatha Christie, in tow. I’d peeked in last night, but it looked very different this morning in the light of day. The store had always been cluttered, but it seemed even more so now than I remembered. The small space was filled to the brim. There were oil portraits of strangers, worn leather travel trunks, ornate chandeliers, and tarnished silver lined the top of every dusty surface. Agatha found a big fruit bowl and made herself at home inside it while I looked around some more. Old wooden milk crates held thick records made for a Victrola, and there were at least three cuckoo clocks, four cabinets filled with mismatched glassware, and I couldn’t guess at the number of music boxes. It was overwhelming, yet there was something oddly comforting about the chaos, too. That seemed to be a theme for me here.

I was still discovering all the things hidden in the nooks and crannies when there was a knock at the shop’s front door. Matteo waved through the glass. He was clean-shaven today, with his dark hair slicked back, and I went to the door trying to decide if I liked today’s neat look better than yesterday’s messy one.

“Buongiorno.” He smiled.