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“You’ll see. Be patient. You would think it was your birthday.”
I frowned. “I should’ve planned this.”
“It doesn’t matter who planned it as long as we’re together.”
As Vlad parked in the main driveway and opened the door for us, we stepped out and approached what looked like a rustic barn. We walked through two thick double wooden doors, each adorned with a rectangular piece of colorful stained glass. Inside, a small man with thinning black hair and a large bulbous nose greeted us.
He hugged Oliver warmly, then turned to me. “I’m Vittorio Bianchi,” he said with a slight Italian accent.
“Vittorio, this is my fiancée, Ryleigh Stewart,” Oliver introduced.
“She is bellissima,” Vittorio declared.
I felt my face heat up. “Th-thank you,” I stuttered, glancing at Oliver, who had a smirk on his face.
Vittorio led us through a large store and tasting area, lined with wooden crates and shelves filled with wine bottles. We continued through a dusty storeroom and out to the vineyard, where a battered green golf cart awaited us. Vittorio took the front seat, while Oliver and I settled into the back.
The cart bumped along a narrow path through the tangled grapevines, eventually stopping at a small clearing where a table was set up. It was beautifully arranged with several crystal wine glasses, white china, and silverware on top of a red linen tablecloth. As soon as we sat down, a light-haired man in a waiter’s uniform appeared, carrying a thick wooden charcuterie board.
My mouth watered as I took in the sight of the food: an assortment of cheeses cut into slices, pieces of thick crusty Italian bread, salty green and black olives, dried apricots and almonds, hummus, homemade pickles, and pieces of hard salami, sopressata, mortadella, and capicola.
“This looks fantastic,” I said, my stomach growling in anticipation.
“I’m glad the day warmed up,” Oliver remarked, pouring us each a glass of wine.
“Suppose it didn’t?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Then we would have found somewhere cozy inside,” he replied, clinking his glass against mine.
Vittorio reappeared with a knowing smile. “Enjoy your meal. If you need anything, just call for me.”
As we settled into our meal, the flavors burst in my mouth, each bite more delicious than the last. The sun filtered through the grapevines, casting a warm, dappled light over us. I looked at Oliver, his eyes sparkling with happiness.
“Thank you for this,” I said, my voice filled with emotion. “It’s perfect.”
He reached across the table, taking my hand in his. “You’re perfect,” he said softly. “And I wanted to make today special for you.”
I felt a lump in my throat, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. As we continued to eat and laugh, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I knew we could face them together. Today was a reminder of the love and joy we shared, and I was grateful for every moment.
“How do you know Vittorio?” I asked, curiosity piqued as I glanced around the vineyard.
“I’m part owner of this place. A silent partner,” Oliver replied casually.
I took a sip of wine. “You own this place?”
“Part of it,” Oliver said, popping a green olive in his mouth.
I marveled at the beautiful surroundings, the lush grapevines, and the rustic charm of the barn. “Maybe we should get married here.”
“I thought you wanted The Garden Room?”
“I do, but this place is beautiful,” I said, feeling torn.
Oliver rolled his sapphire eyes playfully, making me laugh. “Make up your mind, sweetheart.”
“The Garden Room,” I decided with a smile.
“Are you sure?”
