Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
It’s odd because those questions Heath left us don’t cover the basic where do you live, where did you go to school, who are your friends type of things that normally get asked when you first meet someone. I suck at those first awkward conversations because I usually say something weird.
A regular guy would have tossed the questions aside the minute Heath and the gang had left us on our own, but Luca seems fascinated with the cards. He holds out the stack. “It’s your turn.”
It’s getting late, but he shows no signs of wanting to leave. The waitress has long since given up on us, leaving a pot of coffee on the table as she starts to clean up. I reach out and take a card from the middle, hoping it’s a good one. Luca doesn’t allow mulligans. I glance down. “All right. Where is your favorite vacation spot and why? It has to be a place you’ve been to, not an aspirational location.”
He sits back, and a soft expression comes across his face. “Santa Maria. It’s an island in the Azores off the coast of Portugal. My uncle lived there for most of his life and when I had school holidays, I would sometimes go and work at his vineyard. I suppose it was the time I felt the most free. My parents were particularly invested in me doing well at school. Boarding school in England is… Well, there’s a reason Game of Thrones resonated with me.”
“Boarding school?” I can’t imagine not being able to go home at night, not having that firm boundary between school and rest. Not that it would have been possible for me. My parents had been solidly middle class, and rent control is the only reason my mom still lives in her two bedroom in Hell’s Kitchen. Luca’s family apparently had money.
He nods, pouring another cup of coffee. “Yes. I went away to boarding school when I was eight. I only saw my parents on breaks after that, and when they were busy, I would be sent to my uncle’s. I have to admit, I preferred that. My uncle was more laid back, though he worked hard. He taught me a lot about wine and how to grow it, how it represents the land and the history of the people who make it. For my uncle, wine was a living history.”
“Was?” I ask, knowing the answer.
He nods. “Yes. He passed a few years ago, my father before him. Cancer. My mother died last year. She had a stroke that she never recovered from.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
A soft expression crosses his features. “I wish we’d had a better relationship, but that’s in the past. So now you know why I love Portugal, despite my love of rain and gloomy climates. How about you?”
He’s been so open with me. I want to say Disney World because of fun. I went once with Harper’s family, and we had the best time. We’d been eight years old and made it a point to try to make each other throw up on the tea cups.
But that isn’t the place that still calls to me. “My dad’s family had a big cabin in the Poconos. That’s a place in Pennsylvania. It’s beautiful. Mountains and lakes, and it’s so green in the summer. He grew up in Scranton, but he spent his summers there with his parents. So when I was young and my grandma was still around, we would go for a couple of weeks every year.”
“And you had fun running around the forest?”
I sigh because it’s more than childhood fun. “It was the only place where my father seemed happy. He was a complex man. Is still a complex man, I assume.”
“He’s not in your life?” Luca asks.
We’re getting deep for only having met a few hours before, but I also think this will be our only night together, so it feels strangely right to confide in him. Like he’s a safe place to put some of my emotions for the simple fact that I won’t see him again. “He left my mom when I was twelve, but the marriage was shaky before then. It was kind of toxic. Not kind of. Just plain toxic. I don’t think my father liked how his life turned out. He always made it clear to my mother that she wasn’t his first choice. The problem was he was hers, and no amount of bile he spit her way changed that for her. But those weeks when he was back around his old friends he seemed like a different man.”
“Why didn’t he move back to where he was happiest?”
“Oh, the family home was gone by then. They’d all had to leave the area to find better opportunities. He did finally move back a couple of years ago. He’s working at a resort and seems to have gotten some of his issues under control.” I have probably said way too much. I give him what I hope is a bright smile. “Anyway, I loved rafting and hiking, and there was this place that had the best cinnamon rolls. Big as my head at the time, and my mom would get one and I would eat on it all day. It was fun. Now if you ask me where I want to go today, I would absolutely say someplace like Hawaii or Fiji. Somewhere beachy, with a fabulous spa.”