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She shot me a glance before looking back up at him. “May we have the Vietti Barolo Riserva Villero?”
“Of course. What year?” he asked in reply. “We have 1989 and 2003 to 2010.”
“2009.”
“I’ll bring it now.” He nodded to her before walking away.
When her eyes shifted to me, I felt a little enthralled, watching her be so decisive.
“What?” she asked.
“You really know your wines, it seems.”
“Yes and no. You grew up in Europe, and you are impressed I can order wine?”
“When you do not have a skill, you appreciate it in others. I am so bad at picking wines that my family will never allow me to choose for Christmas.”
“You can’t be that bad,” she said as she lifted the water.
“As you said, I grew up in Europe. In Ersovia, people love and know their wine. There have been a few times when I picked white, too sweet or too bitter. In my mind, I always tell them it is not Goldilocks and the three vineyards. Just drink it.”
She laughed. “Goldilocks and the three vineyards? You should be a writer.”
“I wanted to be,” I muttered, thankful the server came back with the wine, and I picked up the menu.
“May I have the bucatini with butter-roasted tomato sauce and meatballs?” she asked him at a lightning-fast speed. She looked incredibly eager for it, as well.
I wanted to know why she loved it so much. “I will have the same.”
“Right away,” he said, taking our menus.
The moment he was gone, she picked up right where I left off. “You wanted to be a writer? Why didn’t you write?”
“We are going for the deep questions first? Already?” I asked, reaching for the wine.
She nodded. “It is the least we can do since you already have a full profile on me.”
“Touché.” And I walked right into it. “Well, to answer your question, yes. I wanted to be a writer, and I am not because...because my father did not think it was suitable for a prince.”
“Not suitable? Aren’t most princes like art history majors and stuff?”
“How do those two things relate?” I asked, drinking.
“I mean, when I think of the education of princes, I think the arts, like poetry, music, paintings...fencing and polo come to mind, too.”
“I want to say I do not know how to fence or play polo so badly, but unfortunately, you are right,” I said, watching the smugness appear on her face. “I was required to learn all of those things because of tradition, but I ended up truly enjoying them. However, instead of focusing more on them, my father had my brother and me study politics, the economy, and law. Things he believed were more beneficial to know in the modern world...and my brother shines in all those things.”
“But your heart was with the poets?” she whispered softly.
“When you say it like that, it sounds very...”
“Cheesy?” There was her favorite word again.
“Yes.”
“What type of things did you want to write?”
“Everything,” I said, but I really thought I gravitated more toward literature. “I enjoy poetry. But I would have also written about drama and romance.”
