Page 99 of Falling for Mr. October

Rhett steals a glance at the presumed reporter next to him, who’s picking at his mustache and seeming completely unconcerned with my employment prospects. “It’s my duty to protect the senior citizens of this town.”

“Is that why the fire alarm didn’t go off until after the fire was extinguished?” Giovanni asks.

Mustache Man perks up, finally interested, and Giovanni adds, “And why the sprinkler system wasn’t working?”

“You should probably look into those things in your investigation too,” Mustache Man says helpfully, nodding at Rhett.

“You may also want to have someone investigate the slop they call food,” Giovanni says. “Surely your silver apples deserve better. I’ll be in touch with you about it early next week. I would be willing to help retrain the kitchen staff. There are plenty of healthy meal options that taste like actual food.”

I become the gooey inside of a toasted marshmallow, all sugar and fluff, as I peer up at him. Giovanni means it. He’s not a man who makes hollow promises. He may have plenty of shine, but so do the sweetest apples.

“Of course.” Rhett smooths a hand down the front of his button-up shirt before shifting his resentful stare to me. “One week off. As an official reprimand.”

“Do you have another RN to cover for me?” I ask.

“Of course,” he says stiffly, then turns and gestures toward Mustache Man. “But I’ve been rude⁠—”

“Recognizing it is the first step,” Giovanni interjects, pulling me closer.

Rhett’s nostrils flare, but otherwise he ignores the barb. “Allow me to introduce my new friend Christopher, who writes for The Asheville Gazette. He’s very interested in hearing about your love for Apple Ridge, Giovanni. Of course, you’ll have a lot to tell him about your big Mr. October win and all of the exciting festivities coming up.”

He hesitates, his gaze drifting to Giovanni’s “Smut Slut” hat. “I actually thought we agreed you’d wear your crown.”

“I’ll wear it to the next one.”

“See that you do,” he says with a sneer. “We want everyone to know how much you enjoy your role here in town.”

The threat is obviously there, buried beneath a mound of bullshit. Tell him you love this place, or your girlfriend loses her job. Tell him you never want to leave, or I’ll bury Evergreens & Apples.

“Bianca and I would be delighted,” Giovanni says. “In fact, there are a couple of people we’d love to introduce you to.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

GIOVANNI

Bianca and I stand there with Christopher the Mustache and tell him the story we’ve been sharing for the past week—how I was overwhelmed by the press attention and I came here for her. We reconnected, and I realized the sense of belonging I’d been searching for was here in Apple Ridge all along.

Yet something strange happens as I speak (in addition to all the people who pass by, whispering about us, snapping photos when they don’t think we’re paying attention). It begins to feel as we’ve made it true by repeating it enough times.

I have to admit I’m happy to be in Apple Ridge today. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, certainly not back home, where I’ve always felt like the “extra” Cafiero, the one who coasts along in the wake of the others.

I like it here. I like that old-timer we met earlier, who wants me to join his workout group. I like Theo and his trees and his long, probably meaningful silences. I like cooking with the nonnas and listening to their bickering. I like Emily and her book recommendations. I even enjoyed visiting The Rotten Apple yesterday before everything went to shit. But most of all, I like Bianca. She’s everything a person should be—strong and soft, kickass and kind—and to hear Mr. Mayor talk to her like he just did…

Why, I’d like to beat the man to a pulp, at the very least. I can’t, of course, but I’ll make him pay somehow. That can come later, though. Right now, all I care about is getting my girl to enjoy her afternoon.

I’ve got a plan for that, as soon as I get Christopher the Mustache settled in with the nonnas, who will no doubt talk his ear off about Apple Ridge, and possibly every major event in their lives for the past eighty or so years.

“Would you like to meet our nonnas?” I ask, my arm still wrapped around Bianca.

Christopher reaches for his comfort mustache. “I’ve heard about the apple fight, of course.”

I can’t help but grin. Of course he’s heard about the apple fight. Anyone who’s been in town for more than five minutes has probably heard about the apple fight, even after all these years.

“Don’t ask them what caused it,” I warn. “They’ve never told anyone. They still won’t. But knowing my nonna, it could be anything. She had a feud with the mayor back home because he said the sandwich my brother made him was too dry.”

Christopher runs his fingers over his mustache again. “So mayoral feuds run in your blood.”

I can feel Bianca suppressing a laugh. Resting my chin on the top of her head, I say, “My problems with Mr. Mayor are purely personal. He used to be engaged to my girlfriend.”