Page 42 of Falling for Mr. October

“My grandmother’s one of the reasons, sure. It’s my job to take care of her, and this whole enterprise agitated the hell out of her. She thinks I was basically selling myself. She actually told me, ‘What woman will want to buy the cow if you give the milk away for free?’”

She presses her hand to her full lips but can’t hold back her laughter.

“I know. It’s not a very enlightened perspective, but she almost never changes her mind. It’s not only because of her that I stopped, though. It was the one part of my life that felt like mine, and now…”

She leans in a little closer. “How bad was it, exactly? I mean, you obviously have plenty of fans, but⁠—”

“You only need a few strangers to be obsessed with you to make life hell. This was more than that.”

“What did they do?”

“What didn’t they do? I’ve gotten hundreds of nude pics from strangers. The guys at my gym pranked me by drawing my birthmark on their chests and stripping off their shirts at the same time. And one woman broke into my apartment at two in the morning and crawled into bed with me.” I take a deep breath, not wanting to share this part but needing to at the same time. Because I haven’t told anyone, not even Nico, and it’s been gnawing away at me. “My ex-girlfriend Janine, she’s the one who tried to crawl into bed with me—even though she’d just gotten married. She still had a key to my place, and she let herself in.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“That’s the other reason I wanted to leave. She told me she’d underestimated me. She’d broken up with me because she thought I was only a good-times guy, incapable of being serious about anything, but apparently I wasn’t such a loser after all. It wasn’t me she wanted, of course. It was him. She had big plans for him.”

“Him?”

I wave a hand through the air. “The Shirtless Chef. She only cared about the image. All of these people, that’s all they care about. That’s what’s made this hell.”

“Are you worried about your ex showing up here?”

“It wouldn’t be great if she did. She really fucked with my head…” I shift to get a better look at her. “Maybe you know what that’s like. I heard you were engaged for a while.”

She smiles. “Yeah. Kitty’s the one who helped me realize he was ‘all shine, no substance.’ She would have known. They were related. After she pointed it out, I realized how controlling he was⁠—”

I don’t mean to laugh, but I do.

She throws a dark look at me. “Really?”

“Yeah, that was obviously a bad time to laugh. It’s just…you’re not a person who can be bossed around, and thank God. That’s one of the things I like best about you. I wish I knew my own mind half as well as you know yours.”

She leans into me. “Thanks. He learned that the hard way. He tried to convince me to go into private practice and become a visiting nurse for wealthy people so they don’t have to deal with the emergency room.”

“Didn’t this guy know how much you love old people?”

Her smile broadens. “He didn’t pay attention as well as you do. Anyway, it’s been a while since we broke up, which is why my nonna is trying to play matchmaker. But you’ll be reassured to know I’m not interested in meeting a man right now.”

“Because this asshole hurt you?” I ask, already hating the fool.

She shrugs and looks down for a second. “No one can hurt you unless you let them.”

I may not be as intelligent as my big brother, but I can read between the lines when they’re drawn nice and steady. Bianca has decided she won’t let anyone close enough to hurt her again.

I get that. I let Janine close, and she emotionally shanked me, so I don’t try to argue Bianca around. Especially since I’m not ready to share anything else.

“Anyway, it’s kind of a relief to be single,” she continues. “We’ve got enough complications between the farm and Miles…” She bites her lip. “Speaking of…you and Miles have been talking?”

I hesitate, wondering how much I should say, and decide she deserves to know everything. “Miles came to see me after he watched my last video. We hadn’t spoken in months. He said he knew how it felt, being the person everyone was gossiping about.”

Bianca tucks those long bangs behind her ear, her expression stoic in the dim light. “I guess he would,” she finally says. “But why isn’t he answering his messages? He usually at least texts. I’ve been worried.”

“Look, he asked me not to say, but he got accepted into this five-week trauma program in New York. No phones allowed. He said he’s been running from the accident for years, and he won’t ever be able to come back here until he faces what happened.”

I can see how much I’m ruining her, but she surprises me by taking my hand and squeezing it. “Thank God. Thank you for telling me.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything. I should have told you days ago. But he asked me not to.”