by Hazel Kelly
But my favorite view of all is to my left, where Geo’s family is gathered around a picnic table covered in open wine bottles and platters of cured meats and cheeses. It’s cute how much his Italian side takes over when he’s around them, and from a distance, it’s impossible to tell whose hands are whose as they wave through the air, dodging the rolling r’s and enunciated vowels that punctuate their every sentence.
And as surreal as it is to be in Chianti with my Italian boyfriend, I can’t imagine being any happier. The warm sun on my face and arms is a constant reminder of how far away I am from my local Starbucks and my normal routine, but I must say I like the way it feels to be present, to let my stress drip out my fingertips into the parched soil.
Could I live here? Maybe not. It’s far too beautiful, and my enthusiasm for the food on offer is downright dangerous, but I admit I am not disgusted by the prospect of visiting more often…and for many years to come.
It’s a turn I never could’ve seen my life taking, of course, but I wouldn’t change it. Frankly, I find it amusing that life could work out so much better than I ever dreamed, that I could win the love of such a passionate, complicated man without having to change who I am. Sure, I had to grow up a little, had to ask myself some hard questions like whether or not I was ready for the compromise and sacrifice it takes to make a committed relationship work.
But the rewards have been too many to measure, and I can’t believe I almost chickened out on what has been the greatest adventure of my life so far.
Yes, I was terrified to meet his daughter, but as promised, she really is just a kid, and it was immediately apparent that she was as nervous as I was, which put me at ease right away. And her English is good—much better than anyone else’s in the family—and she was so eager to practice with me, an adorable blush passing over her cheeks when she was in doubt as to whether her pronunciation was right.
Naturally, Sofia never took her eyes off us as we got to know each other, but it wasn’t an aggressive or unwelcoming kind of attention. More like curiosity. Like she was sizing me up. And I admit I did the same with her.
But she has been kind to me, and I can tell by the way she and Christina look at Geo that there’s a lot of love between them, but it’s not a threatening kind of love. It’s a kind of love anyone would be an idiot to not make room for in this fucked up world.
And to think I was almost that idiot.
I think they all know that their extended family is far from the ancient Italian ideal, but it’s inspiring to see that it hasn’t affected their family values, that those are just as strong as the roots in the soil here that give them their livelihood.
It’s a refreshing change from my own family, which has struggled to find a new identity in the aftermath of my parents’ divorce and my dad’s remarriage to a woman who has little patience for his previous life.
Feeling like such a welcome part of something as tangible as this family is a world away from how I usually feel back home…which is more like a headless chicken fighting for recognition in a world whose attention span is about as long as it takes to swipe a thumb across a smartphone.
But this…this feels solid, real. Like something that’s not only worth holding on to, but something that can also hold me up.
“Everything okay?” Geo asks, coming up behind me.
I look over my shoulder and smile at him as he rests his hands on my hips. “Absolutely,” I say. “I was just admiring the view.”
“It’s stunning, isn’t it?”
I nod and take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh and earthy air.
“It’s probably the second-most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“What’s the first?” I ask, turning towards him.
His dark eyes sparkle at me.
I push his chest and roll my eyes.
“It’s true,” he says, clasping his hands behind my lower back.
“You’re saying you’d rather wake up to me than this view?”
He nods. “Every day of the week.”
“Well aren’t you the luckiest?”
He gives me a gentle kiss on the lips, but doesn’t linger, knowing his whole family is liable to stop what they’re doing and turn our way if we do anything mildly interesting.
“I like Christina,” I say.
“The feeling is mutual,” he says, dropping his hands. “She thinks you’re as pretty as a movie star.”
I feel my cheeks grow warm. “I invited her to come visit us sometime.”
“I know,” he says. “She told me.”
“And?”
“Now that there’s a good woman in my life, Sofia might just let her come.”
“She’d probably love it,” I say. “I’ve already started a list in my mind of places we could take her.”
“That means a lot to me,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Even if her mother still thinks she’s too young, I can’t thank you enough for reiterating how welcome she would be.”
“Of course.”
“And I know you’re not ready to be a mother yourself, but I should warn you that I have every intention of impregnating the shit out of you as soon as you’re ready.”
I laugh. “Is that so?”
“It is. And I’m going to rub your feet every night and make you grow fat on homemade pasta.”
“That first part sounds nice, but I don’t know about the second,” I say. “I think your family might accomplish that before our trip is over.”
“It’s too much, isn’t it? My pants feel a little tight.”
“Yeah right,” I say, my eyes dropping down his loose linen shirt, knowing full well that the only thing it’s hiding is a six-pack. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”
“Well, it means a lot to me that you’ve tried everything.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not sure I would’ve tried the cow stomach sandwich if you’d been honest about what it was.”
He shrugs. “Maybe not, but I do think the moment you won everyone over was when the grease dripped down your chin.”
I shudder.
“Seriously, these people don’t trust anyone who doesn’t enjoy their food.”
“They must love me then.”
“They do,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“To be honest, I’m kind of sick of hearing about it.”
I scoff.
“I’ll have to teach you some Italian so you can eavesdrop on their compliments.”
“I’d like that.”
He looks over his shoulder at his family and then turns back to me.
“Thank you.”
He furrows his brow. “For what?”
“For sweeping me off my feet and showing me that the best things in life are the ones you don’t see coming.”
“Prego, baby,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Piacere.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means my pleasure.”
I flash my eyebrows. “And how do you say, your pleasure?”
“That’s not really an expression.”
“Shame,” I say, casting my eyes down for a moment. “Because that’s what I’m really interested in.”
“Is that so?” he asks, his mouth curling into a smile.
I nod.
“Prove it,” he says.
And with that, he scoops me up in his arms and steals me away into the vineyard before showing me in every way he knows how that our happy ending is only the beginning.
N O T E F R O M T H E A U T H O R S
Thank you for taking the time to read this story.
I hope you had as much fun reading it as Chloe and I did writing it.
If you did, please leave a review and tell your friends.
We would be grateful for the support!
And don’t forget to check out Cassie’s story, Masquerade, which is out now.
You can also contact me directly anytime at hazekell
[email protected].
I would love to hear from you.
Finally, if you’d like to be notified when Chloe and I have a new release (and get a pre-launch sneak peek) just sign up for my newsletter at HazelKelly.com/InnerCircle.
Lots of love & happy reading,
Xo Hazel
Ps- About the inspiration for this book…
A while ago, I saw a picture in my Facebook newsfeed that someone took of a sign they saw in the bathroom of a bar. It said something like, “if you’re on a sketchy Tinder date, go to the bar, ask for Angela, and we will help you out.”
I thought this was the most fantastic thing I’d ever seen. Soon after, variations on the theme started popping up, including everything from drinks a dater-in-need could order to signal for help to numbers they could call. Needless to say, the idea really triggered my imagination.
As far as having Angela turn into Angelo, I have to assume my desire to write an Italian hero was the result of a recent trip to Italy that I took with my mom. Now, let me start by saying that my mom is the most fun person to go to Italy with ever because not only does she look really Italian, but she speaks it beautifully. Also, despite the fact that I have much lighter coloring, our faces are undeniably similar, so anyone can tell from a mile away that I’m her daughter.
Anyway, one night in Florence, we went to this fabulous restaurant, and not only was the food to die for, but all of the servers were young, handsome Italian men. I kid you not, I was blushing like an idiot from the moment we walked in the door as a result of even the most polite eye contact.
Granted, I am in a committed relationship, but that didn’t change the fact that the two of us erupted into hushed giggles following every time one of the staff visited our table.
Which, of course, they had to do even more than usual because I somehow managed to tip over my wine glass, shattering it and spilling red wine everywhere (don’t worry, we’d cleaned our plates at this point so no heavenly food was ruined by my clumsiness). And for the record, I like a drink as much as the next person (okay, probably more), but my mom’s borderline teetotal so I’d only had one glass before this. One! Ugh. I mean, surely there is a point when small tables cross the line from being romantic to downright impractical. Just saying.
The point is, I wish you could’ve seen my face when one of the waiters pressed some napkins into my lap. I also wish I wasn’t making such an embarrassing face right now just calling the memory to mind.
When we finally mustered up the strength to leave, we left a big American tip to make up for the scene I made and giggled all the way home. We aren’t big gigglers, by the way. The staff were just that ridiculously gorgeous.
The next day, we did our best to pretend we were open-minded and not totally set on going back there for dinner again but- you guessed it- we just couldn’t help ourselves. And not only did we go back, we got decked the fuck out because we’re shameless like that. However, keep in mind that I had no intention of topping my awkward performance from the previous night. Yeah, right.
When we arrived, my favorite guy was on front of house hosting duty (we suspected that was his post because he had the best English). Regardless, his eyes were as big and dark as I remembered, and I shit you not, his eyelashes were so long you could’ve braided them.
Anyway, as soon as we came through the door, his face lit up, and he proceeded to give each of us the double cheek-press greeting you might expect from a dear (European) friend.
Naturally, my mom nailed it like a pro. I, on the other hand, missed a beat somewhere and ended up pressing foreheads with the guy. Pressing Foreheads?! Who does that?! We actually got stuck like that for a second, a second that felt like an eternity. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that my face turned bright red at that point and stayed that way.
Then- get this- sometime after we ordered, the guy came up, introduced himself to me, and shook my hand. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t expect waiters to stop what they’re doing and blatantly flirt with me. Especially when I’m clearly with my mother.
This was all the more surprising because, as you may or may not know, I spend most of my time in my pajamas with my wheezing three-legged cat and fictional people who never acknowledge me. Furthermore, I’ve been in a relationship for long enough that I tend to assume people can sense how housebroken I am. So I was properly blindsided by this unexpected attention.
To his credit, though, the smitten waiter didn’t overstay his welcome and let us enjoy our amazing meal like a professional. But wait- there’s more!
When it was time for us to leave, he asked me if I would go for gelato with him. Can you believe it? Gelato?! I felt like a Disney Princess… Not to mention my relief that my impromptu crush hadn’t been totally one sided.
Obviously, I declined his invitation, but my mom was kind enough to let me revel in how flattered I was all the way home, which I was grateful for because that kind of shit doesn’t happen to me all the time, ya know?
And between you and me, if that dreamboat had asked me for gelato many moons ago, it would’ve been an easy yes (and perhaps only my first of the night, to put it politely).
In reality, though, we arrived back at the hotel sans gelato, and I called my boyfriend (in a fabulous mood) and told him every single detail about what we ate and nothing more (because sometimes the whole truth is irrelevant). Besides, if he ever engages in a harmless flirtation with an attractive waitress, I would be delighted for him to keep it to his damn self.
Now, I’m not going to say the gelato incident was my favorite thing about Florence, because the competition is pretty stiff, but it did make me want to write about a sexy Italian :)
And as far as Ruby and Geo’s story goes, there is one more thing about it that was deeply personal to me, and that was Ruby’s concern that her prince charming arrived on the scene too early. See, I believe the same thing happened to me.
Frankly, I wasn’t even that pushed about him arriving at all. I had this great life as a wandering mistress all planned out, and I was very happy doing whatever the hell I wanted in my own damn company and in my own sweet time. Alas, sometimes fate has other plans.
When I met my boyfriend, he was a fair bit older than me (though no more mature, I assure you), and I was only a year out of college with zero intention of settling down. But, like Ruby, I couldn’t shake both the feeling that he was everything I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find and the feeling that I wished he would just come back later.
Of course, relationships don’t work that way, and I had to make a choice. In the end, I consulted the Rocking Chair Test (I always consult the RCT). As Ruby explained, you essentially picture yourself as a ninety-year old on your creaky porch with a G&T in hand, looking back on the situation. And deep down, I knew that if I didn’t pursue the relationship, I would always wonder what might’ve happened if I’d taken a chance on that Irish guy.
So I did. And the rest is history.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all milk and cookies. He is both my best friend and my single biggest pain in the ass (it’s mutual, I’m sure), but not a day’s gone by where I have regretted following my heart.
And I sincerely believe Ruby’s leap of faith will pay off, too. Because I’m a hopeless romantic like that, and if our book besties can’t find bliss, what hope is there for the rest of us?!
If you’re still reading, thanks! I’ve enjoyed sharing this stuff with you.
However, you should know that I usually only spill this behind the scenes gossip to my Inner Circle. So if you’re really interested in knowing more about me and my books, you should sign up so you don’t miss anything.
It’s easy. Just go to HazelKelly.com/InnerCircle.
You’ll even get a free romance when you join that’s not available anywhere else (inspired by an adventure I had as a young twenty-something).
Hope to see you on the inside ;)
That being said, thanks again for taking a chance on my work. Enter
taining you is a pleasure and a privilege for which I am grateful, and I look forward to my next opportunity to do so.
All the best,
Xo Hazel
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