Page 5 of Falling for Mr. October
CHAPTER TWO
BIANCA
“Nonna Rose, may I speak with you in the sunroom, please?” I say tightly.
She doesn’t argue, for once. In fact, as soon as we’re alone, she spills the entire story.
The sunroom boasts an epic view of the Christmas tree half of the farm—a canopy of unchanging green. It’s usually a breathtaking view, but right now, I’m struggling to breathe through my Murphy temper. “So, let me get this straight. After Nonna Francesca called you, you visited Theo’s fake psychic ex for guidance, and she told you to invite your mortal enemy and her grandson to live with us?”
I’m definitely going to exact payback on Theresa. Maybe I’ll bribe the barista at A Latte a Day to slip normal milk into her next drink.
“Not my mortal enemy.” Nonna Rose waves a hand dismissively. “It was a silly argument. Our blood was up.”
“And what was this silly argument about?” I ask. Both I and all of Apple Ridge would still like to know.
“Water under the bridge. The point is that I called Francesca back after talking to Theresa, and we worked everything out.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s good to have her here. Like being reunited with a sister.”
To be fair, my little sister has also thrown apples at my head and told me she wants to spit on my grave. I feel myself soften about Francesca’s presence, not Giovanni’s. “You realize Miles isn’t going to suddenly run home because he hears his old bestie is hanging out with us.”
She gives a world-weary shrug. “The Lord God works in mysterious ways. Miles adores that boy. Don’t you remember how he used to follow Giovanni around everywhere like a puppy dog?”
“Miles broke his arm because of it.”
I don’t mention that I also caught them drinking Grandpa’s old whiskey behind the apple barn. It would seem petty after fifteen years.
Nonna Rose touches my arm. “You bear more grudges than I do.”
She’s not wrong.
Hurt me, fine. Hurt someone I love, and I’m not so quick to forgive and forget.
“Miles will come back when he comes back, Nonna. We can’t twist his arm. He’s twenty-nine.”
She sighs and clucks her tongue. “And still sowing those wild apple seeds.”
“Can we please stop calling it that?”
She studies me with sad eyes, probably because she knows I have a weakness for puppy dog stares. “At least Francesca’s oldest boy has chosen a wife. I have four grandchildren, and none of them are even close to settling down.”
“Good for Francesca.” I’m dangerously close to pouting and know it, so I add, “You know it’s a good thing Rhett and I broke up. He’s a jerk.”
She shrugs, pursing her lips to one side. “Your grandfather was one too, and we had a very productive marriage.”
“Excuse me if I don’t want a ‘productive’ marriage. And quit trying to change the subject. Don’t you think it’s weird that Giovanni packed up his whole life to come here? He’s up to something.”
“Yes, he’s being a loving grandson. Those other boys tried to get their grandmother to let a strange woman move into her home and take care of her. A home helper, they called her. Francesca went along with it at first, but when the time came, she couldn’t bear it. I don’t blame her one bit.”
“Nonna, you know I basically am a home helper, right?”
She cups both of my forearms, wine nearly sloshing out of the glass she’s still holding. “You didn’t go to school for all those years to become a home helper. You are a nurse.”
“Who spends her days getting puked on, peed on, and—”
“Not before dinner, cara. You go take a shower and relax.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that, knowing Giovanni is lurking downstairs, wandering around without any supervision. Who knows what mischief he’ll get up to. Although, if he tries sneaking any whiskey, he’ll soon realize it’s the same bottle he watered down nearly two decades ago. I only drink outside of the house, and Nonna Rose never drinks at all, other than right now.
I’d feel better if Theo were here to keep watch.
