Page 114 of Falling for Mr. October

Ultimately, Bianca and I don’t make it to The Rotten Apple until Wednesday. I drive us there after lunch, because I’d rather skip another meal in the cafeteria. But I’ll be damned if I allow those old folks to eat an inedible dinner too. If their days on earth are numbered, each meal should count—each bite should be a celebration.

I emailed Mr. Mayor about the appalling menu at the retirement home, but he put me off with empty platitudes, saying he would of course look into it. And while I followed up with several calls, I only managed to reach his office manager.

Not that I’ll let that stop me. I intend to make sure the old folks who live here have real food to eat.

But that’s not why I’m nervous right now. It’s the thought of stepping back into the Shirtless Chef’s skin and recording a video.

I can tell Bianca is nervous for different reasons.

“Don’t worry, cara mia,” I say as I park the car in the lot. “It didn’t fall down while you were away. The building is still standing.”

“Probably because I wasn’t there to burn it down.”

I take her hand. “I spoke with Mr. Mayor’s office manager yesterday. He confirmed they’ve scheduled maintenance for the sprinkler system and all of the fire alarms.”

“You did that?” she says, sounding a little more impressed than I deserve.

“Of course. I also told him we’ll be re-training the cooks. I said I’d send him a grocery list or a bill. Either suits me.”

For a second, joy steals over her expression, chasing the unease away, and she leans over and kisses me.

But I can see the worry’s still there.

“You’re worried about your friends,” I say. Because they are her friends. She stopped being a hospice nurse because she realized she cared too much about her patients, and it was killing her to lose them, but she cares just as much about the residents of this building.

“My patients.”

“If you insist.”

I expect her to shove my shoulder, but she surprises me by leaning in to kiss my cheek.

“What’s this for?” I ask.

“For understanding me and not being a dick. Also, you’re going to be great in there. I’m already looking forward to sending smackdowns to all the people who are inevitably going to send you love notes after you post your video.”

I smile back at her and smooth her bangs behind her ear. “Thank you. And I have to tell you…even though Mr. Mayor is a true idiot, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to send you away for good. He cares too much about what other people think to take away someone who’s so important to this place.”

Still, we both hesitate.

“I could drive us to California,” I joke. “We can pick oranges and go to the beach and forget everything except each other.”

She smiles. “That sounds kind of nice, actually, but we’ll have to wait until after the apple pie bake-off. I’m a very sore loser.”

I rub my knuckles against the back of her hand. “You’ve convinced me to go in. You’re a sore loser, and the only way I can secure a win for you is to learn that recipe from Luanne.” I pause before adding, “I’ve been thinking…if I’m going to continue to make videos as myself, I want to include more of my life. This feels like a good place to start.”

Her smile heals part of the seam I’ve tried to stitch between myself and the Shirtless Chef. “Look at you, wanting to go to a nursing home and make videos with a bunch of elderly people. I’ve been a bad influence on you.”

“A good influence,” I say, opening my door. “My angel.”

“Let’s not overdo it,” she replies, but she looks pleased.

Before I can get out, she places her hand on my arm. “It’s been fun since you got here.”

The word shrivels something inside of me. “Fun?”

Understanding flickers in her eyes, and she squeezes my arm, her eyes intent on mine. “That woman made you think fun is worthless, Giovanni, but that’s insane. Giving people joy is no small thing. And everywhere you go, you give joy. You’ve given my whole family joy.”

It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and for her to have said it…