Chapter 37
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.”
“Giovanni won’t be staying forever,” I say, trying to sound grown-up about it. “He’ll have to go back to Maine at some point, and it sounds like his new agent has big plans for him.”
“No doubt they do,” he says. “I’ve watched the new videos, you know.”
“What?” I give him a shove. “That means you had a cell phone before you showed up here and could have returned any of my dozens of calls.”
“I wanted to show up in person. I thought it would mean more.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I’ve seen the videos, and the man’s so far gone on you that he’s been hanging out willingly at your nursing home.”
“It’s not my nursing home,” I say with a laugh. “And anyway, they call it a retirement village.”
“Gusty, old brick building, check. Lots of old people needing around-the-clock nursing care, check. Plus, I think villages have, I don’t know, shops. Coffee. Good food.”
“They have good food now,” I say firmly, thinking about Kitty for the first time in a while. She’d be proud of what we’ve done, I know she would.
My brother touches my arm, and we come to a stop. “If he leaves, he’ll come back. I can tell.”
Staring into his mismatched eyes, I ask, “Did you really send him for me?”
“Yeah, I thought maybe you could be good for each other. It’s like you and me, the steady one and the fun one.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Why do I have to be the steady one?”
“Who said you’re the steady one?” he asks.
“You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“And you love me.”
“Unfortunately. Unequivocally.”
He studies me intently, both of us still standing still in the cool breeze. “And you love him too.”
I hesitate for a moment, not because I have any doubts, but because it feels dangerous to share that truth out here in the open, where anyone might hear.
“I do,” I finally say. “He’s a good man.” I feel my eyes heat as tears press behind them. “The best.”
“I know. Sending Giovanni here was part of making amends. To you, and to Nonna Rose. I know she always felt sorry about what happened with Nonna Francesca.”
I look him over. “You’ve changed, Miles.”
“For the good, I hope.”
“Jury’s out,” I tease, and he beans me in the head with a pinecone, bringing my attention to the cling-wrap on his arm.
“What’s the new ink?” I ask as we carry on with our walk.
“I’ll show you later.”
I know him better to push, so I nod.
We carry on in silence for a few minutes before I gather my nerve enough to say, “It might be good if Giovanni does leave.” It feels like I’m breaking my own heart, but I continue.
“He talked to this reporter for It’s Not Gossip a couple of weeks ago, but the piece hasn’t come out yet, and a journalist from Asheville warned him that the other reporter has been looking into a bunch of shit about our families. ”
“Including the accident.”
“You’ve heard?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s on your face. But fuck it. Let them say what they want to. I’m ready to stand my ground, Bianca. I’m ready to go all Home Alone on this shit.”
I snort. “That’s an extremely dated reference, you know.”
“Our movie collection was always extremely dated growing up.”
“Speaking of dated…would you like to crash a book club full of old people tonight? Giovanni’s coming.”
He grins. “You know what? I’ve been waiting my whole life to get an invitation that good.”
Miles makes a big show of getting out of the back seat and holding the door open for Emily when she comes running down from her apartment over the bookstore.
“Miles,” Emily gasps, pausing. She looks at him the same way I did earlier, like she’s not entirely sure he’s real.
To be fair, I’ve talked about him enough that he’s probably almost a mythical being to her.
“I’m baaaack,” he says, making a crazy face like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.
Damn. I really do need to help him update his movie references.
Emily rolls her eyes and looks down at the enormous hoodie she’s wearing. Sir Gala-Head is on it. Giovanni has so many of them at this point that he’s started giving them away. He’s also selling them on his website, presumably under pressure from Rhett.
Frowning, Emily smooths the front of her hoodie and slides past my brother into the car.
“Bianca must be glad to have you home,” she says in a cool, detached voice, reinforcing my suspicion that she doesn’t like him.
He slides in after her and shuts the door. “She’s glad for now. Give her time.”
“I’m medium glad,” Giovanni says from the front seat.
Miles flips him off, and suddenly I’m smiling so hard my face hurts. They’re all here. Giovanni, Miles, and Emily. Three of the people I care about most in the world gathered in one car.
My mind tries to skip to another car, on a different day, but I pull it back onto the right track. Miles is right. It’s time to leave the past behind.
The four of us make small talk on the way to The Rotten Apple, Emily remaining unusually quiet. When we get there, Giovanni carries in the box of refreshments he prepared, and the receptionist—not Judy tonight—waves us back to the rec room.
“We get two young men this week?” Luanne says, beaming at us as we walk in. She’s always loved Miles, and he stoops to wrap her in a hug.
“I had to come and see my best girl, especially now that you’re a movie star.”
She laughs and fluffs her hair, and after giving her a squeeze, he greets a few of the other residents he knows.
The book club is gathered on the couches with their yellow paperbacks out. About half of the members are wearing the shirts designed by Helen, who has the satisfied expression of a woman who’s raised a lot of money in very little time.
Thousands of the shirts she designed have already been sold on Giovanni’s website. They’ve outsold the Sir Gala-Head merch four to one.
“Two young men,” Helen echoes. “What a treat.”
Giovanni lifts his paperback of Yes, Chef. “But only one of them has read the book.”
Giovanni and I read it together, curled up in his bed, and sitting on the porch swing outside of the apple barn with warm cider.
And, on one memorable occasion, I read it out loud while he knelt between my legs.
I’ve never enjoyed a book so much, to be honest, although I barely remember what it was about.
“But I promise to still have lots of opinions about it,” Miles says with a grin, settling onto an ottoman in front of the crowded sectional couch.
Emily chooses a seat close to Luanne, while Giovanni and I sit on a loveseat together, his arms curled casually around me.
God, it feels good.
Maybe that’s what sets me on edge.
Because every good thing I’ve ever had has been taken from me, either slowly or in an instant.
Giovanni promised we’d work something out, but I’m still terrified that I’ll lose the one man my heart is set on keeping.