Page 86 of The Wrong Vintage
This is what it means to be in love, I realize.
Not possession or proximity, but a constant, low-grade awareness—like a current running under everything else.
It's distracting as hell…and I don't want to change a damn thing. But work is work, and it needs to get done.
"Okay." I stand abruptly, needing the action to break out of my lovesick sob story. "Summarize the key points."
Chiara bristles but complies.
Renzo smirks.
I lose her in less than half a minute after she starts speaking.
I feel Alessia before I see her.
There's a shift in the air.
A pull.
I turn just as Alessia comes into view at the far end of the courtyard—boots dusty, sleeves rolled, hair coming loose at the nape of her neck. She looks exhausted…and radiant.
She freezes when she sees me.
For one suspended second, the world narrows to just us.
Then she crosses the distance in long, urgent strides—and I meet her halfway.
I don't think or check myself, I just reach for her.
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against me, breathing her in like a man who's been underwater too long.
She buries her face in my chest, fingers clutching my shirt, and the sound she makes—half laugh, half relief—goes straight through me.
"Cristo," she murmurs. "You're here."
"Fuck, Alessia, I've missed you," I say hoarsely as I lay my lips on hers.
Her eyes hold a quiet reverence, as if my confession caught her by surprise.
I groan into her mouth, kissing her like I haven't kissed a woman in years. I explore her mouth hungrily as my hands start to unravel her braid.
"Nico," she whispers as I nibble at her lower lip.
"Si, cara." I pull back to look at her, my hands on her waist, holding her to me, and her hands fisted in my shirt.
"We have an audience." Color rises to her cheeks—but she doesn't step away from me.
I glance past her. Chiara's face is a mask—tight, white, furious.
Renzo is delighted, like he’s won a bet with himself. "Well, that answers the question of whether you needed to be here."
Alessia curls into me, like she needs the closeness just as I know I do.
When did this happen? When did she become so vital?
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," she whispers shyly.
"No apologies needed,dolcezza,we were wrapping up."
