Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
GIOVANNI
EMAIL FROM JANINE
I don’t really believe you moved there because of that woman, Gio. You’re trying to make me jealous to prove a point.
Fine, you’ve succeeded. Happy?
Can we please talk? I know you blocked my number.
I’m YOURS,
Janine
RESPONSE TO JANINE
I’m with Bianca. End of story. You’re married, J. Be happy. I’m not trying to make you miserable, but I’ve moved on, same as you did.
We had something special once. Let’s keep those memories good.
EMAILS FROM STRANGERS
Giovanni, I want to have your babies.
Do you have an agent, Giovanni? I represent several celebrity chefs, including Brent Marks from Shitty Cooking. I could take you places. Can we talk?
Giovanni, are the rights to your life story available? I can see you and Bianca making movie magic.
I’ve gotten so many messages over the last week, they’re like voices competing for the limited real estate in my head. Everyone seems to want something, and the pressure is like a building storm.
I know I’m fucking up, not answering that agent, ignoring the questions about film rights, but my body seizes up every time I try to start a response to anyone.
In fact, it happens every time I think of doing anything proactive about my situation other than interacting with the fans who show up at the pumpkin patch.
The pumpkin patch is open from twelve to seven, seven days a week until Halloween, which makes for a busy week, each day blending into the next.
On Monday, Mr. Mayor comes by with Jason and a couple of young people with cell phones.
He presents me with a wardrobe of Sir Gala-Head clothing and makes sure to record the whole interaction.
Apparently, I’m expected to wear something with Sir Gala-Head on it at all times as part of my unasked for and unpaid position as Mr. October.
Lucky me.
But I’ll do it, because the location for the apple pie bake-off has officially been changed on the town whiteboard, and everyone knows it’s being held at Evergreens & Apples.
As part of his publicity stunt, Mr. Mayor asks me on camera what I like best about Apple Ridge, which gives me an opportunity to report that the part I like best is enjoying myself with my gorgeous girlfriend.
He leaves with a sour look on his face.
The people who have been coming by to see me want to know all about Bianca, of course, and I tell an embellished version of the story of our first kiss.
I also tell them something true: she always made me want to prove myself, right from the first time we pulled into their driveway and found the Murphy kids waiting for us.
I know I’m kicking the can, waiting to make the decision that might change everything, but I don’t know what to do. So, in usual Giovanni fashion, I find other things to focus on.
I pick up some WD-40 and oil the hinges on the front door of the farmhouse, I fix the burner on the stove that didn’t work, and then I put on my “Smut Slut” hat and go to the grocery store to grab supplies for the s’mores experiment.
A few people point at me, but I’m not sure if it’s the hat they’re into, or if they recognize me as Mr. October or the Shirtless Chef.
Emily stops by the pumpkin patch with Bianca on Wednesday, around lunchtime.
I make a big show of greeting Bianca, getting up from behind the desk and dipping her in front of the customers.
She agreed that I could kiss her for the cameras, and I’ll admit that I’m going to take that liberty while I can.
Being close to her is easily the best part of my day.
Several people take photos of us kissing. One woman gushes that Bianca is the luckiest person alive.
“No, that’s me,” I say, releasing Bianca.
She turns toward Emily, flushed. “Give him the book. We have to get back to work.”
I lean over to catch a glimpse at the book in Emily’s hand: What Color Is Your Parachute?
I look at Emily with a dubious expression. “My nonna told me I can’t go skydiving again. It was a real rush, but the last time I did it, she nearly had a heart attack. I’ve already given her enough near heart attacks. My siblings say I’m past my quota.”
“It’s a metaphor,” says Emily dryly. “You’ll be staying on the ground for this one. It’s self-help.”
I dart a glance at Bianca. “Did you tell your friend I’m fucked up? That was supposed to stay between us.”
“We tell each other everything,” she says.
“Well, shit.” I nod toward Emily. “I figured you’d give me some smut to read.”
“Did you want smut?”
“I don’t know, maybe. My sister and I are looking for something new to read together.”
Bianca smiles, and I soak it up. I’m a man who likes good things, and there’s simply nothing better than this woman’s smiles. “You’re still doing your book club?”
“It’s a way to stay close to Aria while she’s in Greece. I miss the hell out of her, if you want to know the truth, but she’s pursuing her dream. I’ve got to support that.”
“So she’s found her parachute,” Emily says, setting the book down on the desk in front of me. She gives the cover a little tap. “You still need to find yours.”
“I’ve got no clue what that means.”
“That’s what the book is for. But if you want to read smut, you should join my book club. Luanne’s in it, and we read exclusively romance.”
I consider her offer before nodding. “Yeah, all right.”
“You’re seriously joining?” Emily asks, brightening, as if she didn’t, for one second, think I’d take her up on her invitation.
“You got me hooked with the hat. Now I can’t stop, won’t stop.”
Emily elbows Bianca, who’s standing next to her. “Does this mean Mrs. October is finally joining my club too?”
“What gives?” I ask Bianca. “You’re not in your best friend’s book club? That’s stone cold, Bianca.”
She gives me an indulgent smile I drink down like a tonic. “I guess I’m in the club now.”
“Damn straight, you are. We’ll read it together. What’ll we be reading, Emily? Do you have any chef smut? My girl loves chef smut. She makes me read it to her off the internet.”
Bianca swallows a laugh. I could swear the customer on her phone, idly sifting through pumpkins, is recording our conversation, but I figure I might as well let her. Bianca wants people to believe in our fake relationship. I’m only helping her if “proof” gets out.
Emily casts a defiant look at me before tapping the parachute book again. “You have an avoidant personality.”
I cast a sidelong glance at Bianca. “She takes these book selections of hers seriously.”
“You better believe it.”
“What’d she give you?”
“It was called It’s Hard Being Perfect, but I’ve always found it pretty easy.”
I grin at her. “You sure make it seem natural, Bianca.”
“We’ve got to go,” Bianca says.
“Now, she’s being avoidant too,” Emily says with a knowing smile. “Maybe it’s catching.”
I get up and circle the desk, catching Bianca in my arms. Pumpkin Lady isn’t even pretending not to film us as I wrap Bianca up and hold her close. “The book worked,” I whisper into her ear.
Bianca is laughing as she and Emily leave.
When I get back to the farmhouse, I find it empty. There’s a note reporting that the nonnas have gone off to look at another wagon, this time with Isabella. So I honest-to-fucking-God dust the bookshelves.
The nonnas can’t see well enough to do it themselves, and Bianca is much too busy.
She’s always helping people. I’ve discovered she runs several different activities at The Rotten Apple, and she often helps Emily at the bookshop and Isabella at her bed-and-breakfast. Knowing that, I can’t be so mad anymore that she sweet-talked me into this mess.
People were bound to find out where I was hiding anyway, and she’s right.
With her as my fake girlfriend, I don’t have to deal with as many strangers throwing themselves at me.
Not that it doesn’t happen. I’ve gotten a few emails I’ve had to delete, but everyone who stops by the apple barn knows I’m a taken man—and anyone who’s met Bianca, or watched any of the random videos of us together floating around online, knows they should be respectful, or else.
Truthfully, everything’s going as well as can be expected, but I’m still unsettled. So after I make dinner for Bianca and the nonnas on Thursday night, I shut myself into my room to talk to my brothers.
Enzo surprises me by saying I should definitely respond to all of the promising opportunities presented to me—and what the fuck do I think I’m doing by waiting so long?
“I don’t want to retraumatize Nonna Francesca,” I say, absently leaning forward to press my forehead against the wall next to the bed.
It’s Bianca’s wall. The one I can hear her through when she takes out her vibrator, something that has happened three times now, and is sure to drive me insane before long.
“You saw her the afternoon you walked in on me.”
He laughs, long and hard. “Yes, you pazzo. No one’s going to forget that anytime soon, but Nonna is happy there. Christ, she sounds so much better than she did last year. It’s like a miracle.”
“It’s no miracle. It’s because you got engaged,” I say. “It added years to her lifespan, no question.”
“Lucia does everyone good,” Enzo says with plenty of pride, using his special nickname for his fiancée. “But taking some time away from Hidden Italy has also been good for Nonna. So is being around Nonna Rose.”
“Yeah, they’re definitely happy to be together. Not a single apple has been thrown.”
We all have a good chuckle over that. Then Enzo says, “Lucia and I spoke with Nonna yesterday, and she mentioned something about the possibility of you making videos with your shirt on. Why don’t you give that a try?”
Nico bursts out laughing. “Right, you think Giovanni’s going to hide his chest after all the work he’s put into it?”
“Ha-ha, very funny. But seriously, I don’t know. Bianca’s the one who suggested a fully-clothed version, but the whole reason people were interested was because they liked the gimmick. Without it, I’m just some guy.”