20. Paolo

CHAPTER 20

PAOLO

“ O kay, why not?” says Chloe, giving me a puzzled look. “Does this mean we have to leave?”

Her face falls, and I shake my hands in front of me. “No, I just remembered that there is a really excellent vineyard just outside this village run by this old woman and her husband. My parents used to love their farm. They probably remember your family. Hang on.”

I put the phone back to my mouth, and in Bellamari, say, “Yeah, that would be great, thank you so much for agreeing to open for us. I do hope it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not for the young prince,” says Carina, her voice crackling down the line. “It would be our honor to host you and your wife.”

“Yes, actually, about that. I’ve brought her here because her father grew up in this village. You wouldn’t happen to remember him, would you? Antonio Fontana? It would mean the world to Chloe if you could tell her anything about him.”

Carina hums, and my heart flips in disappointment. Maybe promising Chloe stories was a hope too far. And then Carina says, “The name is very familiar to me. I do remember a young boy by that name.”

“Honestly, even if you make something up, that would still be great.”

“You are still a cheeky young thing, aren’t you? I won’t be telling lies to your wife. I will think of a true story, though she will have to forgive my English — I assume she doesn’t speak Bellamari, if you are speaking so crudely in front of her.”

“No, she doesn’t,” I say, my face heating at the callout. There are very few people I would take that kind of reality check from, but Carina is one of them. I remember being very young, running around the vines with my brothers, free and wild — before I really understood what being a prince meant.

“Thank you so much,” I say again as I hang up, then turn to Chloe. “Come on!”

Chloe chases me back to the car, calling for me to wait. I don’t. I’m too excited. She’s going to love this. It’s only a five-minute drive, and she gives me a look the entire time.

As we head up the path, Carina comes out to greet us. She waves to me, and the second we get out of the car, she launches at us, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me hard.

Then she turns and looks Chloe up and down. “This must be Chloe,” she says, speaking English with a thick accent. “Welcome, welcome. My name is Carina. It is a great pleasure to have you here. And Prince Paolo…”

She turns back to me and pinches both of my cheeks before ruffling my hair. In Bellamari, she says, “You are always so handsome, young man. It has been too long since you came to see us.”

My face heats in faint embarrassment. But she is right. I haven’t been here in years, and I should have. Carina has always been as kind as a mother to me.

She waves at us to follow. We do, and Chloe leans in to whisper, “What was that about?”

“She’s not usually open for visitors on a Sunday, but for us she’s making an exception. She’s an old family friend.”

“That’s nice of her,” Chloe says. “She didn’t have to.”

We head for the old barn. It’s a big, airy space that’s designed to give tourists a good view of the vines when they sit to drink wine. What Carina doesn’t tell tourists is that she never gives them her best wines — or that she got her certificate for being a master wine taster online for fifteen euros.

She seats us at the big table so we can see the grapes soaking up the warm, golden sunshine, then starts putting together a sampling basket. Chloe stares out at the farm as Carina scurries back and forth, and I stare at her.

Even a few days of being in the sun has given her hair highlights, touched all the freckles on her face and brought them out, framing her dimples when she smiles. She isn’t looking at me, and it gives me the perfect chance to commit every curve, every line of her face to my memory.

Even if I have nothing else after this, I’ll be able to think of her like this.

Carina returns with a hamper that she dumps on the table, then sits down across from us. As she starts unpacking wines and glasses, she says to Chloe, “Now, then. Your father? Antonio Fontana?”

Chloe’s breath catches in her throat. “Yes. That’s right.”

“Yes, yes, I remember Antonio. Small boy. Always playing hide and seek with his friends. He…” she lifts her eyes to the sky, almost like she’s praying for the words to come to her.

But they don’t, so she sighs and turns to me. In Bellamari, she says, “Tourists, they’re easy. I know all the right things to say in English to them. But your Chloe deserves more than my broken words.”

“She’s not mine,” I protest.

Carina shakes her head at me. “Try telling her that. See the way she is looking at you, boy?” I glance at Chloe, and my heart leaps to see her eyes fixed on me. “Now, tell her this.”

I listen for a moment, then turn to Chloe and her expectant look and start translating. “She says she remembers one time he and his friends came to the vineyard when they were teenagers. Some of his friends were complete tricksters. And one of them dared your father to steal some grapes off the vines. He went all the way into the vineyard and started to complete the dare— Seriously?” I chuckle, cutting myself off to interrupt Carina, my final word in Bellamari.

Carina grins at me. “By the saints, every word I tell you is the truth.”

Then she continues her tale, and I force myself not to laugh. It’s a funny story, but Chloe is looking at me so reverently that I feel like I have to take this seriously.

“But then,” I resume, “Carina’s husband caught him, and he burst into tears. Taking pity on him, her husband brought him inside and gave him a glass of wine made from the grapes he had been trying to steal and told him to drink it up. And once he was finished, they drove him home because he was more tipsy than a teenager should be. And when they told his parents, they all laughed and laughed.”

“He was good boy,” says Carina in English at the end of the story.

Chloe’s eyes start brimming with tears, and I reach out for her hand. All I want to do is offer her a small comfort. “I’m sure he was,” she says, her voice shaking.

“And he has raised a beautiful daughter,” says Carina. “Here, try this wine. It is the wine of the stolen grapes.”

She pulls a bottle from her basket and pours a small sample into our glasses. “I also have some fresh cheeses and breads from around the area.” The basket seems to be endless as she brings out snacks and grapes and plates. Chloe’s eyes are still shining with tears, but the smile on her face is very real.

“Try! Try it!” Carina urges.

Chloe and I both raise our glasses, tapping them lightly against each other. Then we swirl the sample around, staring at it as if either of us know the first thing about wine. Chloe leans in and sniffs it, then takes a swig. I follow, letting the dark flavor splash over my tongue.

So I don’t wince, I purse my lips, forcing myself to swallow. I’m not a big fan of red wine on the best of days, but I don’t want to upset Chloe by admitting I don’t like the wine that reminds her of her father. This day is already a lot for her without my negativity.

“What do you think?” asks Carina.

“This is great,” says Chloe, grinning. Carina fills up her glass without asking, and Chloe takes another sip.

Then Carina raises an eyebrow at me and I stuff some cheese and bread into my mouth so I don’t have to say anything.

She chuckles and pours us out some white wine next. She can definitely tell that I didn’t enjoy that. But Chloe did.

That’s all that matters.

“Tell us another story,” I say to Carina, changing the focus away from me and back to the reason why we’re here.

Carina hums as she carves up one of the hard cheeses, then launches into another tale of Chloe’s father. I help her translate sections, but she manages for the most part. She tells us about the village, as it would have been when he grew up, and the mischief the kids used to get up to.

Chloe listens to every word, enraptured, and I just lean back and watch, letting my eyes drift shut as I bask in the sun, eating bread and drinking wine as the afternoon drifts on towards night. I know Carina will let us stay as long as we want, but I don’t want to ever leave.

Because the more I stay here, in Chloe’s company, the happier I am.

She makes me feel easy, content. She doesn’t treat me like I’m anything but what I am, and it makes me want to be more for her. She can see a different man in me, one who is as generous and thoughtful as I pretend to be when I’m with her.

She makes me believe that it could be true, as well.

The sun glows on her skin and I eat cheese until I think I could burst, while my heart twists inside my chest.

If she would listen, I would tell her I loved her.

If she wanted me, I’d be all hers. But I know we’re not meant to be.

And knowing that makes the ache a thousand times worse.