Page 93 of The Fall Affair

“It’s a step in the wine-making process. It separates the juice from solids. After the grapes are picked, I bring them up to my parents’ winery where we sort and destem. After that, they go into tanks for fermentation where the grape sugars are turned into alcohol. Then we press—remove the skins and seeds and any stems we missed. My parents have a pneumatic press now, so it’s a lot less work than when we did years ago, but I’ll still be gone for most of the day.”

“I want to learn more, but I know you have to go. Maybe you can teach me later?”

Matteo smiled warmly and stroked my hair. “I would love to teach you about what I do, bellissima. I’m happy you’re interested.”

After he left, I called the estate attorney to double-check that a quick trip to New York wouldn’t mess up the ninety-day requirement my grandmother had included in her will. He said I’d have to tack however many days I was gone onto the time I had left when I returned, but at least it wouldn’t reset the entire count. Then I looked at flights and texted Matteo to see if leaving in five days was too soon. I thought I might not hear from him for a while, but he texted back almost immediately.

Matteo: I’ll make it work.

Chapter 31

Allegra

THE FOLLOWING WEEK, we landed at JFK. Matteo had fallen asleep during the flight, which left me free to do what I did best—overthink. Was it a bad decision to bring him home with me? Was it too soon? Was I leading him on too much? He’d been to New York once and hated it. What if being here scared him off, reminded him how different our lives were?

But then as we got ready to exit the plane, an older woman a row ahead of us struggled to get her luggage down, and Matteo stepped in and grabbed it for her. I smiled, loving that he was always ready to jump in and help, even here in New York where he definitely wasn’t getting a knitted cap. When Matteo smiled back at me, a rush of butterflies swarmed.

“How far is your apartment?” he asked as we stepped off the jet bridge and started the long walk to the airport exit.

“We landed at the worst time for traffic. I don’t usually take a car from here, but I would guess it will take anywhere from ninety minutes to two hours.”

“How far is it?”

“Fifteen miles, maybe?”

Matteo blinked. “Twenty-four kilometers, yes?”

I nodded.

“And it could take two hours?”

“Sadly, it might.”

“You said you don’t usually drive. How do you normally get home?”

“Trains. JFK has an AirTrain that takes you to Jamaica station where you can hop on a subway or train and get just about anywhere.”

“And that’s faster?”

I nodded. “And cheaper.”

“So why don’t we do that?”

I hesitated. “I didn’t want you to remember why you didn’t like it here in the first five minutes.”

He smiled. “I want to experience your life the same way you’ve been experiencing mine.”

My life was sweaty subways, screeching sirens, and skyscrapers. His was swaying sunflowers, slow sunsets, and serenity. He was bound to be disappointed. But when the overhead sign displayed an arrow pointing to the right for the AirTrain, he put a hand on my back and steered me that way. “Come on.”

Of course, New York delivered its usual chaos. God forbid we have an uneventful ride home. The E train was packed beyond reason, the air wasn’t working, and a man who was clearly strung out started pushing through the crowded car, shouting as he begged for money.

“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me!” He slammed his hand against a window, wild eyes darting around and landing on a teenager. “You! You think you’re better than me!”

Matteo had an arm wrapped protectively around me. He let go, and I knew he was two seconds away from intervening. But then the teenager held something out, and the guy flashed a smile that showed off a mouth of decaying teeth. “You’re not so bad after all!” He brought the half joint to his mouth and lit it, right there in the cramped car, blowing the smoke all over passengers trying to ignore him.

I was relieved when the doors slid open at the next stop and the guy got off. But then a guy carrying three oversized duffel bags bulldozed his way on, knocking one into me and nearly slamming me into the door. Matteo caught me instantly and stared down the man.

“Watch it.”