Page 132 of Falling for Mr. October

She pats me again. “Now, what are you waiting for? Madonn’, you’ve slept half the day away. It’s time for breakfast.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

BIANCA

My brother’s home—he’s home—and everyone in my family knows Giovanni and I are together. Both Theo and Isabella get over here so quickly their tires are probably smoking, though thankfully no frying pans are flung after they arrive. They hug Miles fiercely, the nonnas force food on everyone, and my twin tells us about the trauma program he attended in New York.

“I didn’t touch a cell phone for over a month,” he says, laugh lines showing next to his eyes. “I missed half a dozen really interesting propositions.”

Isabella flings a grape at him.

“I didn’t say they were from women,” he says.

She flings another grape at him. “You’re a pig.”

He pretends to oink and then turns in his seat and points at Giovanni. “Hiding didn’t work out so good for you, did it?”

“Clearly not, but I’ll bet you knew it wouldn’t. Now that I’ve been here a month, the thing that shocks me is that everyone didn’t find out my business sooner.”

Miles gives him a shit-eating grin. “You never would have come if I’d told you that.”

Or if he’d told you that I was lonely and stuck and needed someone to blow into my life and shake it up. To turn my existence into a fall snow globe, filled with leaves instead of snow…

Oh, my brother. My dear, beloved, pain-in-the-ass brother.

Once we’ve all doted on Miles, we share the news about the upcoming apple pie bake-off. It’s shaping up to be a fall blowout. We’ve hired a couple of cart horses to pull the wagon for hayrides, thanks to Giovanni, who’s made dozens of friends around town.

In addition to the epic apple pie tasting, there will be plenty of spiced cider, snacks, and a borrowed petting zoo. One of the Biceps Boys knows a guy who’ll be bringing over a few alpacas, a duck, a potbellied pig, and a mini horse.

Miles, who’s only been home for a matter of hours, snaps his fingers and insists he knows a guy, too, and he can find us a bounce house to rent last minute.

Leave it to Miles to adios from town for years and still “know a guy.”

After we finish lunch, Miles nods at me. “I call Twin Time.”

Twin Time is a tradition that must always be honored, and no one gives us too much shit about it, even though Isabella’s always been a little salty about it.

Giovanni and I exchange a look, and he nods, silently communicating that I should tell Miles about the reporters’ interest in the accident, plus all the other shit Christopher brought up.

Miles and I step out into the crisp autumn day and walk side by side toward the Christmas trees, the way we’ve done so many times. The air smells sweet, like fermenting apples and sap, and I breathe it in hungrily as we walk. Even though this part of the farm is covered in firs, old to young, there are still fallen leaves that have drifted over here, crackling under our feet.

I cinch my dark cardigan closer around me as we walk, shaking my head at Miles, who’s very typically wearing a short-sleeved shirt that shows off his tattoo sleeve and the plastic wrap hiding whatever new ink he’s acquired. He’s always been that way, though, as if he’s made of different materials.

“Did it help?” I finally ask.

He gives me a lopsided grin. We know each other well enough that I don’t need to be more specific. “You mean facing up to my shit after years of running from it? I don’t know. I sure hope so. I guess we’re about to find out.”

“What was it like?”

He kicks a small knot of leaves, sending them gusting through the air. “We all talked about what happened to us, and there was this wilderness survival aspect that was pretty cool. Turns out I’m pretty good at starting fires.”

“We all knew that,” I tease.

He shoots me an intense look. “I’m going to make amends, Bianca.”

“You’re really staying this time?” I ask, needing the confirmation.

“I’m staying in Apple Ridge, yeah. I’ll find my own apartment, though.” He waggles his eyebrows. “The farmhouse feels kind of crowded.”