Chapter 19 Wine, Cheese, and Monza #2
Sloane slowed, the path widening as the trees opened briefly to a glimpse of the track, now empty, sun glinting off the curb. “What about him?”
“He wouldn’t look at me,” Reese said. “Answered questions like I wasn’t the one asking them. Asked if I was brought in for ‘visibility.’” Her mouth tightened. “Shanelle corrected him. Calmly. But I think it’s safe to say he didn’t love my presence.”
Sloane’s expression went cool. “He sounds like an asshole. I already dislike him.”
“He’s not loud about it,” Reese added. “Just dismissive. Like I’m an inconvenience.”
“That’s still a problem,” Sloane said.
“I know.” Reese’s tone softened. “But it didn’t shake me. I didn’t feel out of my depth. Not once.”
That won her a proud look. “Good. Because you’re not.”
Reese’s mood lifted visibly. “I was thinking,” she said, “we could head into town. I heard there’s a place that does local cheeses—nothing fancy. Just very authentic. We can feel Italian for a little while.”
Sloane’s mouth curved. “Italian cheese and maybe some Italian wine after race day in Monza, Italy sounds less like a suggestion and more like a requirement.”
“Oh, say Italian again.”
“Italian,” Sloane said in her most authentic accent.
“Well, that’s incredibly sexy.” Reese smiled, leaning closer as the park gave way to streets and storefronts, quaint and beautiful in the waning light. “Let’s do it.”
Behind them, the circuit rested, quiet and waiting, while Monza opened its doors.
In a way, it felt like they were leaving the world they knew behind and setting off, just the two of them.
When Reese took her hand, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, while also filling Sloane with a sense of wholeness she couldn’t quite put into words.
Her eyes filled and she blinked back the tears before Reese could discover them.
What a sap she was becoming over something as simple as a field trip to town while holding hands. But it felt important to her.
“What’s going on over there?” Reese asked.
“Nothing,” Sloane said faster than she meant to. She turned away and blinked rapid fire to clear the evidence. “Nothing at all. Definitely not tears. More like stray moisture.”
“Why in the world are you crying?” Reese gasped, fairly horrified.
“I don’t know. You are to ignore me immediately and pretend this never happened. Pay no attention to the woman behind the tear curtain.”
“What?”
“Are you too young for the Wizard of Oz? Oh, God. You are, aren’t you?” She face-palmed. “What am I doing?”
Reese laughed. “I’m not at all sure what is happening right now, but I’ve seen the Wizard of Oz twice. Is that not enough? I can add five more watches this week if it will make you stop crying. Fifteen?”
Sloane gave Reese’s hand a tug and brought them to a stop on a quiet sidewalk on a side street.
A gelato shop sat on the corner. A barber shop was next door.
She loved the city’s quiet charm at the end of the day.
“I was misty because I was happy. I’m thrilled for your new trajectory, for your success, and I’m enjoying the time we’re spending together.
” She looked skyward to find the right words.
“My life has been more than a little stagnant these last few years, and now it feels very much awake. Those tears come with gratitude for right where I am.”
Reese didn’t pause. She didn’t ask questions.
She didn’t smile. She kissed Sloane softly, immediately, and with intention, stunning her silent.
“Do you know that none of this would have happened for me without you walking into my life?” Reese said, cradling her face.
Another kiss, unrushed. “And it wouldn’t be half as wonderful without you here to experience it with me.
” The intensity of the moment rushed over Sloane, and she memorized what it felt like to be seen and appreciated by someone who was becoming incredibly important to her.
“Okay, that was beautiful, but if you keep talking that way, I’m going to cry again—and I’ve officially hit my quota for one Italian sidewalk.”
Reese laughed. “Got it. Emotional regulation break.” She squeezed Sloane’s hand. “We’ll walk. We’ll eat gelato. I’ll try not to make you cry on every block.”
They continued on, slower now, drifting toward the center of town where the streets widened, and the smell of bread and wine replaced the sweetness of sugar. Reese brushed her thumb over the back of Sloane’s hand, casual but intentional, like she was testing a theory.
“You okay?” Reese asked, softer this time.
Sloane nodded. “Yeah. I’m great. But I wish it wasn’t our last night.”
“It’s not.” Reese bumped her shoulder. “So many other cities to explore together. So many.”
A pause as they walked. “Is that what you want?”
“Without question.”
“Good. Me too.” Sloane meant it. She was sure about Reese, about this, about them.
It was the future beyond that still scared her, the idea of standing trackside someday, heart in her throat, watching the woman she loved disappear behind the wheel at speeds that had already taken so much from her once before.
They found a small enoteca tucked between two shuttered storefronts, its door open, shelves crowded with bottles and wheels of cheese wrapped in paper and twine. Outside, a couple of tables spilled onto the sidewalk. Someone had strung lights overhead, and the glow was soft and comforting.
They ordered a glass of red each and a plate of local cheeses, the owner explaining each one with reverence and very exuberant gestures before leaving them alone.
“I think he feels strongly about the cheese,” Sloane said. “So don’t you take any wild cheese stances while we’re here. You will lose.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’m confident he wakes up in the morning, decides it’s going to be another cheesefest of a day, and celebrates it in his kitchen. Probably with cheese. And then declares proudly, there’ll be more cheese later. It’s his work. It’s his life. He’s a cheeseman.”
“Monger.”
“That’s a weird word.”
Sloane raised her glass. “To more cheese.” She took a bite of the hard Grana Padano and grinned. “And to your first day.”
Reese took a sip, then studied her. “First of all, this wine is amazing. Very grapey. That’s a technical wine tasting term. Write it down.”
“Oh, immediately. I learn so much from you.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, and Sloane caught Reese studying her.
“You might be overthinking again.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Only to me,” Reese said gently. “You don’t have to have it all figured out.”
“I know.” Sloane smiled, small but real. “But I like knowing you’re here while I don’t.”
Reese reached across the table and laced their fingers together. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The words landed quietly.
Sloane felt it then, that sense of wholeness again, familiar and warm, like something clicking into place. Monza had accelerated everything, yes, as Monza always did. But sitting there, wine between them, cheese for days, the night unfolding at its own pace, she realized something else too.
Some things didn’t need speed.
Some things just needed time and the right person to hold your hand through town.