Falling for Mr.October bonus epilogue
Giovanni
I exchange a glance with Miles, who waggles his eyebrows, then I knock my fist gently against the wall. Nico shakes his head at us as we deliver the signal to the girls: time to sneak out.
Yes, we’re all adults.
Yes, we could easily use the front door, but it wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining.
Besides, I’ve become pretty fond of the big tree that sits just outside my window—perfect for climbing. Bianca and I have climbed down it at least half a dozen times since I arrived in Apple Ridge in September, not to mention the dozens of times we used it to sneak out when we were kids.
There are padding footsteps in the hall, and then the door gently swings open.
Bianca tiptoes in first, giving me her wicked grin. She’s gorgeous in her black skirt and thick orange sweater, which makes her eyes look so big and brown they could make a man do anything. She’s followed by my little sister, Aria, who has a deep golden-brown tan form all the time she’s been spending outside for the past year and a half.
Aria said she couldn’t make it for Thanksgiving, but Aria likes to surprise us—like with the golf-ball-sized diamond ring on her right hand.
She’s engaged to some Greek shipping billionaire she met at the resort in Greece, much to Nonna Francesca’s horror.
Marry a billionaire?
Sure, that’s good for all of us.
But marry one who lives in Greece?
Unacceptable.
My dad’s old school and says he’s happy she’ll be taken care of, but my brothers and I agree with Nonna, particularly since this rich boy, Christos, hasn’t even bothered to board a plane to meet us.
He did consent to a FaceTime call this afternoon, after we ate Thanksgiving dinner but before we dug into the apple pies, when all of us were boozy on chianti. He has a pretty boy face that I instantly disliked, curly blond hair, and a pair of sunglasses that…
Actually, they’re very nice. I wouldn’t mind knowing where he got them.
Nonna Francesca told him she’d have his hide if he didn’t show his face in an in-person meeting and ask for her blessing like a real man.
“We would all like to meet you,” Enzo said, putting on his severe face, and not to be outdone, I cracked my knuckles.
Nico settled for wearing a different version of Enzo’s look.
“Of course!” Christos said. “I would like this too. Maybe we’ll take the yacht out at Christmas.”
As soon as we ended the call, Aria crossed her arms and glared at the three of us. “You didn’t have to give him three versions of resting bitch face. I already warned him I have three overprotective big brothers who don’t understand boundaries.”
“Resting bitch face?” Enzo repeated, incensed.
His fiancé, Lucy, touched his cheek. “Yes, that’s it. Right there. You’re very good at that.”
Nonna’s still sulking, but Enzo and his fiancé, Lucy, are downstairs with her and Nonna Rose, watching The Golden Girls.
Isabella stopped in earlier, and she was the only person who seemed genuinely excited about Aria’s wedding.
She holds lots of wedding in her B&B, and she offered to start a “wedding board” for Aria, whatever that means.
But she only stayed for an hour or so before she had to head back to serve Thanksgiving dinner to a big group of guests from Asheville.
“Theo’s already at the barn with the cider and hot chocolate,” Bianca says in an undertone, kissing my cheek. I pull her closer, because I’m a man with simple needs. Being close to her is at the top of the list.
“Is Emily coming?” Miles asks.
Bianca narrows her gaze at him, and he shrugs casually. “I was just wondering. I know she was with Luanne and Mr. Campbell today."
Bianca and I helped prepare the feast they served at the retirement home formerly known as The Rotten Apple today, while Miles and Theo were hard at work cutting down Christmas trees in preparation for the rush we all know is starting this weekend. They’ve hired some seasonal help, including Whit, although Theo’s memorized Whit’s school schedule and won’t let him miss any class or school events to take on more work.
The food we prepared at the retirement home was an actual feast, unlike the horror Luanne told me they served last year, with four different kinds of mashed food, all of them the same color and flavor profile.
Salty.
It’s enough to make me shudder, and Bianca laughs at me, giving my arm a shove. “You’re thinking about all that mashed food again.”
“An abomination, cara mia,” I say. “Let’s get to the barn so Miles can see Emily.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to see her,” he complains. “I just wanted to know if she was there.
“Curiosity killed the cat, huh?” Nico wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Look, you and Theo better stay bachelors, for God’s sake. I can’t be the only one Nonna Francesca focuses on.”
He will be, soon enough, but the Nonnas have decided to spend the fall and winter months here in Apple Ridge, and spring and summer in our hometown in coastal Maine. He’ll have at least a few months before he becomes their primary focus in their favorite matchmaking game.
“I’ll let them plan my wedding,” Aria says. “That’ll distract them.”
“We’ll see,” I mutter, far from resigned to this wedding between my sister and the pretty boy.
“You’re so transparent, Giovanni.”
“Tell that to the millions of people who didn’t know I was the Shirtless Chef.”
“You two can argue at the barn,” Bianca says, always a little impatient.
I grin at her, and she pokes me in the chest. “You go first, Mr. October. I don’t want anyone else to see my underpants.”
I scowl. “I won’t allow anyone else to see your underpants.”
“Then you’d better kill me now,” Miles quips. “Because I’ve seen her running around this house in nothing but her underpants at least a hundred times. I don’t think she knew what shirts were when she was five.”
He gets a swat he deserves from that, then I climb onto the bed and open the window. Bianca leans in and kisses me before I descend. The branches are bare now, not providing us with the cover they did up to even a few weeks back, before a big storm blew in overnight and seemed to create a shift, bringing us closer to the transition to winter.
“Bring a sweatshirt,” I tell Bianca. “You’re always cold, mi amore.”
“And we should bring another in case Emily wants it,” Miles says.
He lifts his hands, waving off any interest in his statement. “I don’t want her to be cold. That doesn’t mean I want to marry her.”
“That’s not what the nonnas would say,” Aria says with a chuckle.
I climb down quickly, landing with a soft thud beneath the branches. There’s a gusty pile of leftover leaves, even though Theo and I just cleared it the other day. Soon, they’ll be replaced by gusts of snow, perhaps, although it doesn’t snow here the way it does in Maine. Bianca has told me we’ll be lucky to get some snowdrifts and the occasional patch here and there, like a dirty quilt.
I want snow, to be honest. It feels like it belongs in a Christmas tree farm—the limbs should be dusted it with its little crystals, but a man can’t expect to get everything he wants, and I already have so much more than I ever thought I would.
I watch my beautiful girlfriend climb down the tree nimbly with her usual easy grace.
When she makes the final jump, I pull her to me and dip her. “Bellissima.” Our lips are inches apart, and her gaze is on mine, as warm as a hot toddy. I pull her to me and kiss her, while my sister, who’s on her way down too, groans.
“Get a room,” Miles calls down.
“Aren’t we supposed to be sneaking out?” I ask Bianca as we stand up tall. “I think we’re the only ones who remember how to do it right.”
Several minutes later, we’re all packed into my Range Rover and on our way to the apple barn, an extra sweatshirt balled up in Miles’s lap. I navigate easily over the winding gravel road, completely at ease with the route.
“I feel like we should be singing,” Aria says, and we all groan as she breaks into “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
“No, not allowed,” Bianca says, turning in her seat—Aria’s in the back, sitting between Nico and Miles. “It’s bad luck to start the season before midnight tonight. Murphy family laws, right, Miles?”
“Yes, sorry, we can’t make exceptions,” he says as if he actually regrets that Aria won’t be belting out music directly in his ear.
“But you know it’s basically Christmas from now until the end of December,” Aria says with a sly smile.
“It sure will be,” Miles says with a sigh. “No one says it’s easy to be a Christmas tree farmer.”
“Yes, you have loads of experience with it,” Bianca bites back.
Miles has been away from Apple Ridge for years, but to his credit, he’s gotten back into the swing of the farm quickly with Theo.
The hot chocolate shack and Christmas tree farm open tomorrow, and they’ll also be running a Christmas tree stand downtown for the next month.
I pull up to the barn and park, and Aria coos when sees Theo’s set up—a big picnic blanket set out next to the barn, with real oil lanterns, and thick flannel blankets.
He and Emily are sitting there, waiting for us to arrive, but Theo gets up when we park the car next to his truck.
“Oh thank God, he brought the blankets,” Bianca murmurs.
We get out of the car, and the others hurry over to descend on the cider and hot chocolate. Theo hands Aria one of the blankets, insistent, but she shakes off his offer and splays out her arms as she sways around in a full circle.
That’s my sister for you, showing off her Maine blood.
I take Bianca’s hand and linger a distance away, looking up and soaking in the spread of stars above us, sparkling like burning embers in the sky.
She turns toward me, smiling. “Did you ever think we’d be all together like this again after the great apple feud between our nonnas.”
“No,” I say, feeling a warm rush of emotion in my chest. “No. But sometimes life holds beautiful surprises for us, and you’re the most beautiful surprise at all.”
She takes a step toward me, then claps my cornicello pendant in her hand, her eyes on mine. “And you're my most beautiful surprise. I’ll share you with the people here if I have to, Mr. Future Mayor, but you’re mine.”
“That’s all I ever aspire to, cara mia,” I say, pulling her to me for another kiss.
“Oh come on, they’re doing it again,” Miles moans.
“We all know you have no appreciation for romance,” Emily tells him, but I notice she’s wearing the sweatshirt he brought outside for her.
“Someone get an apple!” Aria says, cackling. “We’ll reenact the great apple feud.”
I kiss my love again, and then we approach the blanket, hand in hand, to sit beneath the stars with our family.
It may be the first of our big reunions, but I make a vow to myself that it will be the first of many.
It may not be Christmas yet, but it’s not too early to make that wish.
Don't miss Miles and Emily's Christmas romance, Kissing Mr. Mistletoe!
It releases in November, and you can preorder it here:
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