Page 111 of Falling for Mr. October

“Oh, Bianca,” he says, kissing my check and then the side of my mouth. “I’m so happy to hear you say that.”

He guides me to sit down on the bed. “Sit back against the wall,” he says, his voice a harsh whisper. “That damn wall that has kept us separated.”

I do as he commands. There’s a small separation between the bed and the wall. While my back is leaning against the wall, he sits facing it, his legs in the gap between the bed and the wall. He tugs me onto his lap, guiding me on top of him—and I lower down onto his cock, my head tipping back against the wall as I take every last inch of him. My body feels grateful for the return of what was lost.

I murmur his name, and then he captures my mouth as our bodies move together, forming a rhythm as old as humanity that somehow feels new with him. Everything is different when we’re together, newer and more alive.

I find myself gripping the cornicello pendant around his neck, his sign of hope, as pleasure ripples through me and pulls me into its embrace.

Giovanni’s dark eyes are on me as I ride through my orgasm, my whole body cradled between him and the wall, and I feel so cherished and wanted it’s as if my hungry soul is riding the wave of pleasure too.

That’s when he comes, his eyes fluttering shut, my name on his lips.

I wrap my arms around him tight, because in that moment, I’m not at all willing to let him go.

“I want to make a video with you,” he murmurs into my ear, and I lean back to look at him, shocked, the heady feelings fading.

My old heartsickness tires to rise up. Did I get him all wrong? Did I mess up again? He’s still inside of me, but suddenly he feels like a stranger.

“I may look like a lady of the night,” I say, going for a teasing tone and not landing it, “but I’m not up for that.”

He actually has the nerve to laugh. Reaching up to caress my cheek, he says, “No, I didn’t mean it like that. Not unless you’re into it. I meant that I want us to make videos about the apple pie leading up to the bake-off.”

With just a few words, all those awful questions fade away, leaving only happiness.

He’s going to try again. He’s going to make a video…

And he wants to do it with me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

GIOVANNI

On Sunday, I finish reading the parachute book, cover to cover.

I also talk to the writer from It’s Not Gossip magazine and answer all of her questions about my relationship with Bianca, feeling easier about it now that the platitudes don’t feel like lies.

Yes, she was the first girl I kissed.

No, I never forgot her. No one who’s ever met her has ever forgotten her.

Yes, I like Apple Ridge.

I’m happier here than I’ve been—for years—back home. Apple Ridge is a beautiful town, especially in the fall, and it’s always been special to my family.

She asks me what I’m doing next, and I hesitate, but I remember my conversation with Bianca and answer her honestly—“I’m on my way toward figuring that out, but I love making content and sharing stories about my family. I’d like to find a way to continue doing that.”

She concludes by asking whether I’ll be staying in Apple Ridge, and again, I admit that I’m uncertain. But I hold onto the pendant around my neck, the one Bianca clung to the night before, and answer from my heart.

“I’d like to spend more time here. That’s all I know right now.”

After the interview, Bianca and I spend the rest of the afternoon at the pumpkin patch. A couple of people I recognize from the fall festival come by just to say hello, including Mr. O’Connor, who reminds me about my social obligation and buys a “perfectly symmetrical” gourd.

The next day, Theo gets the pot kids to cover the pumpkin patch again so Bianca and I can accompany the nonnas on a mission to scope out another wagon at a small hobby farm half an hour away. The Gallaghers are offering hayrides at the corn maze event next weekend, and the nonnas are dead set on finding a wagon before the apple pie bake-off so we can compete. The plan is to rent animals or a tractor to haul it.

It’s a perfect fall day, with the trees giving us the “big show” with their shades of deep orange, red, and green as we cruise down the winding roads to our destination. I feel a blooming sensation in my chest that I recognize as joy.

That feeling only grows when we get to the farm, and Bianca distracts the nonnas by pointing out a display of still-vibrant zinnias so she can pull the farmer aside and beg him to let the nonnas haggle, promising that Bianca and I will pay him full price on the sly.