The Fall Affair

Part 1 - Chapters 1 to 3

All day, Allegra Bianchi has been on edge. At dawn, she calls her paralegal Cassie, waking her and her firefighter husband, to ask for a favor: pick up calamine lotion on the way in. The stress rash on her chest is flaring up the morning of the firm’s partnership announcement. Cassie tries to calm her down, pointing out that Allegra billed over twenty-eight hundred hours last year, more than anyone at the firm, and gets handed all the high-profile cases. Allegra knows it too: she has worked her ass off for six years. Of the eight associates who started with her, only three remain, and the other two in her class, Dale and Sierra, are not real competition. Dale is a disorganized mess who recently blew a filing deadline and got the firm sued for seven figures. Sierra is just Sierra.

Allegra arrives at 625 Lexington Avenue as the sun hits the skyscraper, and for a moment this place still feels magnificent. Six years ago to the day she stood here, terrified, on her first day at one of the biggest law firms in New York. By this time tomorrow she should be a partner. She makes her way up to the fifty-seventh floor, grabs coffee, and heads to the partner floor to run her cross-examination by her mentor, Will Stevens, before she goes to court. She passes what she assumes are empty offices until she hears a man in pain from behind a slightly open door. Panic rushes through her: is Harry Kasoff, the founding partner, having a heart attack? But something makes her pause and peer through the crack instead of bursting in. What she sees freezes her: old Harry Kasoff, head tipped back, white-knuckling his chair, and a pair of feet sticking out from beside his desk. Women’s feet. In shiny black So Kate Louboutins with those red bottoms. Allegra owns the same pair herself, matte black, reserved for date nights. For a few numbed seconds, her brain tries to process shoes and heels instead of the fact that Harry is getting a blow job at his desk. When the image finally lands, she clamps a hand over her mouth, backs away, and hurries down the hall. Will catches her, wondering where she’s going. Allegra points vaguely and says, “Run to the bathroom,” but points the wrong way; Will smirks and points her in the right direction. In the ladies’ room, she tries to settle herself. Those shoes are not something Harry’s wife would wear—and she had back surgery only two weeks ago. No sixty-five-year-old judge is giving her husband a blow job at dawn at his office. Harry Kasoff is definitely having an affair.

By the time Allegra reaches the courtroom, she’s grateful to be doing what she loves. Court sharpens her focus and pushes the horror show out of her mind. She is about to cross-examine Parker Whittaker, her client’s soon-to-be ex-husband, a cheating jerk she can’t wait to destroy. She has photos of Whittaker with his best friend’s wife, which will trigger a big penalty under the prenuptial agreement and discredit the character witness he put on the stand: his best friend. His lawyer, Nolan Pierce, is a man who speaks to Allegra’s chest and underestimates her every time, and he’s been divorced four times, which she suspects explains all the contempt. Today she is ready to wipe the smug smile off Parker Whittaker’s face.

But Nolan Pierce has a surprise. He apologizes for a late witness and pulls out a manila folder—the same kind of folder Allegra has, holding the compromising photos. He wants to enter new photos into evidence and put on a witness to authenticate them. Allegra objects hard: the divorce has been going on for fourteen months, discovery is over, this is a new tactic, a dog-and-pony show. Judge Harrison takes a look at the photos, and his eyebrows jump. He allows the evidence, then gives Allegra and her client a one-hour recess. The photos, it turns out, show Allegra’s own client sleeping with her eighteen-year-old son’s best friend. Allegra’s case has just blown up in her face. She glances at Parker Whittaker, whose smile is so wide it looks like his face might crack.

The day does not get better. At 5:45 in the evening, Allegra is packed onto a stalled, suffocating subway, sweating through her outfit, risking being late to the partnership announcement. She makes it just in time, ten minutes late, slipping into the packed executive conference room. Harry Kasoff drones about the history of the firm for twenty minutes, Jonathan Faust gives the same speech as last year about leadership qualities, and then Rich Moore, the youngest and friendliest named partner, steps forward to read the new partners. Allegra scans the room and sees Sierra Wells, dressed in a little black dress with fresh lipstick and a smile she’s trying to hide. A flicker of doubt coils in Allegra’s stomach. Could Sierra actually be getting this? Rich Moore reads the names: Tom Walker, Hunter Razaul, Malik Hayes, David Takashi, Christian Wendell. Allegra still hasn’t heard her own name. She also hasn’t heard Ken Bauman, a man she thought deserved it last year. And then the final name: Sierra Wells. Allegra’s jaw drops. Sierra freaking Wells? She billed eight hundred hours more than Sierra last year, first-chaired twice as many cases, won the Root-Stimson Outstanding Community Service Award from the New York State Bar Association. She has nothing left to give. She has given everything. Now she stands frozen, unable to move, as people file out to congratulate the new partners. Through a hazy, underwater blur, she sees Sierra walk over to Harry Kasoff and hug him, kicking up one leg like Marilyn Monroe. That’s when Allegra sees the shoes. So Kate black patent-leather Louboutins with shiny red bottoms. The same shoes from Harry’s office that morning. Sierra Wells is the woman who was giving Harry Kasoff a blow job. Sierra earned her partnership offer on her knees. Allegra was passed over for a woman who slept her way to the top.

The next morning, Allegra wakes up with her skull pounding, her eyes burning, and her tongue thick and useless. She barely remembers the partner reception; she didn’t want to go, but Cassie insisted, one drink to show face. As she drags herself to the kitchen for water, a feeling of doom rises in her chest. She remembers following Harry into the men’s room at the bar. She remembers peeking over the side of the urinal and telling him his dick would need to be bigger if she was going to suck it for a partnership. She remembers the vein bulging in his forehead. And then she remembers saying two words: “I quit.” She quit her job. She quit the firm where she has worked her ass off for six years, sacrificed friendships, boyfriends, sleep, even her relationship with her aunt. She vomits violently, then sits against the cold bathroom tile, realizing the full scope of what she has done.

Saturday afternoon, the intercom buzzes. It’s Cassie, who has been trying to reach Allegra all day. Cassie hugs her, worried. Allegra explains that her phone is dead and she hasn’t looked at it yet, and she still doesn’t feel well. She confesses that quitting is the last thing she actually remembers. Cassie’s face changes. “You don’t remember confronting Sierra on the street when we were getting into the Uber?” Allegra’s eyes widen. “No! What happened?” Cassie tells her: “You called her out about how she earned her partnership offer.”

Cassie fills in the messier details of the night before. The accessories Sierra wore with her dress and shoes, Cassie reports, made her look as cheap as she is. It's the first thing that cracks Allegra's dark mood, and she agrees the look was tacky. Cassie also confirms she shoved Allegra into an Uber and waited outside her building until she made it upstairs. Allegra wrestles with a stranger kind of fear: she has never blacked out before, and it is scary to have holes in her memory while other parts remain all too present. Cassie explains it away as a perfect storm. Allegra was upset, hadn't eaten, and everyone kept buying her drinks. And the only people who weren't shocked by the partnership vote were the partners who did the voting. Her peers spent the night telling her they couldn't believe it.

That reassurance works on Allegra. She has spent the day wondering if she is worse at her job than she thought, despite a 39-1 trial record. What looms now is the grind of starting over at a brand-new firm from the bottom of the partnership track, like six years of work have evaporated. Cassie refuses to let her frame it that way. Allegra has experience, and firms will come calling once word spreads that she left Kasoff, Faust & Moore. What Allegra really needs is time off, a few months to recharge. Twenty-four hours ago the suggestion would have been unthinkable, but now the idea has some pull. Allegra shrugs that she might take the break. Cassie nudges further and suggests she go on a date or two. Allegra wrinkles her nose at that. Baby steps, Cass

Part 2 - Chapters 4 to 7

Part 2 - Chapters 4 to 7

Stranded on the Tuscan shoulder

Allegra Bianchi's rental car dies on a narrow Tuscan highway. No cell service, no shade, no idea what's wrong, and she really needs to pee. She spots olive trees across the road, finds the highway empty, and dashes over. Just as she crouches down, a scooter approaches and stops next to her car.

The rider catches her mid-squat. He's stupidly good-looking: tall, dark-haired, with striking light blue eyes. He clearly knows what she was doing. She babbles about photographing the olive farm. He asks if people in America really use private land as toilets. She pleads her case: the car broke down, she drove an hour and a half with no rest stop. He points out a café just over a kilometer away, with a sign she missed. Embarrassed, she confesses she's having a really bad month. That cracks his smirk into a full smile.

He asks what's wrong with the car. She thinks she ran out of gas. He swings onto his Vespa, promises to return with petrol, and rides off. Ten minutes later he's back with gas borrowed from a station owner named Enzo. He pours it in, the engine starts. When she tries to pay him, he refuses, telling her only to return the container and not to water any more olive trees. She watches him ride off, strangely deflated, wondering why this feels important.

The wrong place, or maybe the right one

Matteo Lucchese is fixing a fence when a tiny Fiat stalls in front of Sophia's antique shop. The woman inside kicks the tire and hops on one foot. He recognizes her immediately: the American from the roadside. She starts pulling luggage from the car even though the shop is closed. He calls out that the shop is permanently closed. She asks why he followed her; he points out he's been there for two hours.

She asks strange questions about who cuts the lawn. He helps with her suitcases despite her protests. He introduces himself; she's Allegra Bianchi. Recognition lands hard: she's Sophia's granddaughter. He offers condolences, jokes that Sophia is probably flirting with St. Peter. When she realizes he lives next door, she calls it a coincidence. Matteo doesn't believe in coincidences. She asks what the reason is for their two meetings. He admits he doesn't know yet.

Then he drops the bad news: a pipe burst, the floor softened, and the cast-iron tub crashed through. He stopped the water, replaced the beams, laid plywood, but never installed a new tub. No shower. Allegra's shoulders slump. She spills out her whole disastrous trip: flight delay, no automatic cars, no service, GPS failure, running out of gas, then a flat tire. She asks if he's the handyman. He says no. So why did he make the repairs? Because it was the right thing to do. Sophia loved her home.

Allegra assumed the property went to Sophia's sister Anna, but they hadn't spoken in years. That explains why Sophia left it to her. Then Matteo delivers the real surprise: some of his vineyard sits on her land. She's now his landlord.

A phone call from home

The next morning, Allegra's phone rings. Cassie shouts: "She's pregnant!" Sierra, three months along. No one knows the father. Cassie is reassigned to Sierra. Allegra's heart sinks. Cassie whispers it's temporary, until Allegra gets a great job and rescues her.

Allegra brews coffee in her grandmother's old percolator. From the window, she takes in the overgrown English garden: roses, lavender, delphinium, ferns, a stone path, wisteria. It lifts her spirit but makes her heavy with regret that she let years pass without visiting.

Downstairs, the antique shop is chaos: oil portraits, trunks, chandeliers, music boxes. Her cat, Agatha Christie, curls up in a fruit bowl. Allegra finds it oddly comforting.

A knock at the door. Matteo stands there clean-shaven, looking even better than yesterday. He dangles a key: the key to his home, so she can shower. She's too embarrassed to accept, but he insists. She takes it. Before he leaves, he warns her about the dog: Pavarotti is blind now, she must call his name before entering. The dog is her grandmother's lab, living with Matteo now. She's touched.

She flips the Open sign on the shop. Her first customer arrives hours later while she's weeding. A woman named Paola hugs her and brings a piece of Allegra's nonna's tea set. Allegra owes her sixty-three euros. Her only customer has sold her something instead of buying. Then the sprinklers switch on, blast water in her face, and knock her into the dirt.

She needs a real shower. Matteo's car is gone. She gathers her things, whistles for Lupo, and opens the door. The blind lab's tail wags furiously. She pets him, then looks around Matteo's kitchen: dark cabinets, white marble, cast-iron pots, a lone wine glass, cookbooks. A tidy bachelor pad. The bath salts on the counter make her wonder if there's a woman in his life.

The shower is heaven. When she gets out, she realizes she left her clothes in the living room. She tiptoes out barefoot. Of course, the front door opens. Matteo freezes, looks her up and down. Her face burns. She grabs her bag, mumbles about forgetting clothes. His lip twitches. "No need to apologize."

When she emerges dressed, he asks about the shower. She raves about the pressure. He notices her hair in ringlets. She explains she usually blow-dries it to avoid looking like Little Orphan Annie. His eyes sweep over her. "I think you look fine just the way you are." Warmth spreads through her belly.

She mentions she called two plumbers. Sal moved to Dubrovnik. Giuseppe drinks too much. He offers to install a new tub himself. She can't let him work for free. She offers to pay. That's an insult, he says, that's not how they do business in Tuscany. She asks what she can do in return. She's a lawyer, good at arguing. He doesn't need that. She's good at spotting fake designer handbags. His lip quirks. Be ready at six, he tells her. Six in the morning. Kneepads, he mentions. A straw hat. They'll be outside, but he promises it won't kill her.

Morning in the Vineyard

Allegra shows up at ten after six wearing shorts, sandals, and no hat. Matteo points out his watch. She forgot his instructions: long sleeves, pants, comfortable shoes, hat. He finds her a linen button-up from his closet and brews her fresh espresso. They head out to the field, Lupo following. Matteo puts a baseball cap on her head.

They're picking grapes by hand for his reserve blend. He shows her the gentleness required. Rule one: don't hack at the plant. Rule two: pick only the good stuff. Her first successful snip brings a big smile. He sets her loose and works his own row, facing east to watch the sun come up.

The crew arrives at seven. Tomasso, a nineteen-year-old with a shit-eating grin, teases Matteo about the new girl. Matteo tells him to mind his own business. Tomasso asks if Matteo is calling dibs. Matteo walks away shaking his head.

A little after noon, Allegra stretches her back, and Matteo calls it a day. She admits she actually enjoyed herself. He showers and is ready in fifteen minutes, then waits ten more for her.

When Allegra emerges, she's in a white tank top and a pale blue flowy skirt, hair piled in a messy bun. Matteo is glad for his sunglasses because his gaze lingers too long. Lupo stands when she approaches. "Yeah," Matteo grumbles at the dog. "No shit."

On the road, she confirms she wants a cast-iron tub to keep true to the house. The nearest store that might stock one is an hour away. The wind pulls her bun loose. She reaches up and plucks something from it, and her hair tumbles down in waves. Matteo keeps his eyes on the road.

He asks how long she's staying. Three months. She's unemployed. She got passed over for partner, so she quit. Did she deserve it? She's damn good at her job. Why was she passed over? Because she neither has a dick, nor sucks one. Matteo answers with an Italian proverb: "Non tutte le ciambelle escono col buco." Not all donuts come out with a hole. She laughs. It was her grandmother's favorite saying.

He knew Nonna pretty well, he admits. Six years he's been next door. Six years Allegra was too wrapped up in her life to visit. She doesn't know where the last six years went. Then it's good she came, Matteo says. Life here is slower.

She opens up about her childhood summers: endless days, old bikes, gravel roads, gelato, lying in the grass with a book. The locals knew her by name then. Now she feels like

Part 3 - Chapters 8 to 10

Part 3 - Chapters 8 to 10

Matteo sits on the hot bleachers during football tryouts, but he's watching the new girl under the stands. She's balancing pebbles on a string tied between two benches, stepping back to admire her work. Isabella. The new American girl his sister won't stop talking about. When she catches him staring, she calls him out, and he's so flustered that when his group is called, he's torn between tryouts and helping her. He yells he'll be back, but by the time tryouts end, she's gone—leaving only the pebbles.

A week later, Matteo comes home to find Isabella on his lawn with his sister, braiding daisies. He tries to play it cool, says "Ciao," and trips over his own feet. He's been watching English TV shows to keep up with her but still stumbles. When she offers to make him a bracelet, he shrugs it off, then bolts inside and douses himself in his father's cologne. From his window, he watches her laugh. She catches him staring and gives him a slow smile that feels meant just for him.

At dinner, his mother seats him across from Isabella. She explains she's used to moving—her father starting businesses and now giving tours in Florence. His mother asks Matteo to walk her home, and in a moment of nerves, he calls her Izzy. His sister mocks him, but when Isabella gives him that private smile again, Matteo knows she'll forever be his Izzy.

In Florence, Allegra sits in Antonio Fanelli's office, which looks like a deranged art studio. The office itself is stark white and minimalist. Antonio tells Allegra her grandmother was his favorite client—a hurricane of a woman. He explains he has letters to give her at certain points, and since she's come to Tuscany, he hands her one. Then he walks her through the legal process of inheriting. The file cabinet with what she needs is in the attic, labeled DO NOT OPEN—reverse psychology, Antonio explains.

He also hands her a second envelope addressed to Anna, her grandmother's sister, with no address—just instructions to ask around Montepulciano.

Back in the car, Allegra opens her grandmother's letter. It's classic Nonna: directives to find a box labeled Tax Records in the attic, mail a racy letter to Massimo, deny knowledge of a blue-eyed Birman cat to a woman named Carlina, uncover a purple Vespa under a tarp and ask Matteo next door for riding lessons, track down a numbered tea set, and stop by Francesca's shop for Sambuca and stories. The letter ends with a warning not to eat too many frozen cookies—they've got weed in them.

Allegra pulls into the driveway to find a young man walking out of Nonna's front door. He kisses her hand and introduces himself as Tomasso. Just then Matteo walks out, shirtless, and barks something in Italian. Tomasso grins and says Matteo called dibs before retreating. Allegra is so distracted by Matteo's physique that she doesn't realize she's staring. His lip twitches like he's fighting a smirk.

Allegra tells him about her meeting and the letter, including her grandmother's instruction for him to teach her to ride the Vespa. Matteo isn't impressed, pointing out she stalled once and got stuck in a roundabout. She shrugs it off: it's purple, and she'll look fabulous on it. He tells her the bathroom will be done today, but the caulk needs twenty-four hours to cure, so she can't shower until tomorrow. As he heads next door, she asks if he knows a woman named Carlina. Matteo answers without missing a beat: if Carlina comes around, Sophia never had a blue-eyed cat. Allegra walks in laughing.

Hours later, Tomasso returns with a compliment. When Allegra brings Matteo tea, his shirt is back on. She offers to make her grandmother's risotto alla Milanese. Matteo reveals he once asked Sophia for that recipe, and she told him to eat dirt. Allegra jokes that for good water pressure, she might accidentally leave the recipe card out. Matteo guzzles the tea.

But when Allegra mentions Tomasso asked her to dinner, Matteo freezes, says nothing, then goes back to caulking. He doesn't ask if she said yes or no. After a minute of silence, he tells her he should be done in half an hour. It feels like a dismissal, so she goes to cook.

Matteo comes downstairs as she lowers the heat on the risotto. He runs next door to shower, promising to be back in fifteen minutes. When he knocks, his hair is slicked back wet, and he smells better than the risotto. He's brought wine—her grandmother's favorite—and they sit down together. He lifts his glass: "To Sophia." Allegra clinks: "To Nonna."

The conversation turns personal. Matteo asks why she quit her job, what was so important about becoming partner. Allegra realizes she doesn't have a clear answer. Matteo tells her cooking is good for the mind—it forces you to slow down. Slow wasn't penciled into her agenda.

Allegra admits she isn't sure what drove her, only that she wanted to reach the top. She's not good at being mediocre. When he asks if she desires to win, she says everyone does. He agrees, to an extent, but adds there are limits; he wouldn't sacrifice homecooked food or other needs. She asks what other things he needs. Health. Joy. Family. Friends. She frowns, and he apologizes, realizing his words are insensitive after her grandmother's death. She forces a smile and says it stings because he's right. She admits she's not even great at keeping in touch with the aunt who took her in after her parents passed. Matteo asks if her parents died in an accident. She confirms: she was seventeen, bad weather, her mother had a doctor's appointment. They skidded. She shakes off the memory with a joke, suggesting maybe that's why she worked so much.

Matteo suggests they lighten things up, and Allegra steers the conversation to Tomasso. The smile vanishes from Matteo's face. She says no, he's nineteen, and she doesn't believe in soulmates—it's just branding for idiots who don't sign a prenup. Matteo chuckles, the tension draining. He's glad she declined, he says, so he won't have to kick the kid's ass. When she asks what Tomasso might have done wrong, Matteo's eyes drop to her lips. "Taking you out, for starters." Allegra is surprised, and she likes the hungry way he looks at her. She shoves more risotto into her mouth.

Matteo finishes his plate, gets seconds, and refills both glasses. Allegra reveals she pulled the tarp off the Vespa. It's bright purple. Her grandmother used to zip around town on it like a madwoman, Matteo tells her. She wants a lesson; he insists it's not a good idea, but if she's going to drive it, he'll teach her—in daylight, when they aren't finishing a bottle of wine. She also asks about her grandmother's sister, Anna. Anna lives in Cortona, Matteo says, but she doesn't speak English; Allegra will need a translator. She teases that maybe Tomasso can come along. Matteo frowns. "Cute. I'll take you after your scooter lesson."

They finish eating, and Allegra washes dishes while Matteo dries. The sink window looks out over her grandmother's tree garden, which she now understands is a memorial. She asks if he knows which tree her grandmother planted for her mom. He doesn't, but he can show her how to find out.

Outside, Matteo points to carved initials on a cypress: LB. Louis Bianchi, Allegra's grandfather's brother. Sophia carved each tree herself, Matteo explains; the initials are the key. Her parents died fourteen years ago, so their tree would be high. Matteo gestures to two tall evergreens standing side by side, roughly twenty-five feet, and guesses those are hers. Allegra's heart swells. Then she notices a small lemon tree marked R.D. Matteo knows: her grandmother's second cousin, Rosa, a sourpuss, which is why Sophia chose a lemon tree. Allegra laughs.

When she looks over, Matteo is leaning against her grandfather's oak, watching her. He says she looks relaxed, without the little lines between her brows. She tells him he's not supposed to point out imperfections, but he insists a few small lines aren't imperfections—they're her story. His gaze flickers to her lips. "It looks good on you." Something stirs in her belly. She thanks him for today, and Matteo nods, looking like he's about to say something before he changes his mind. She asks if nine works for her Vespa lesson. He shakes his head, but a smile threatens. "I'll be here."

Matteo arrives to find Allegra looking sexy as hell, though the pink and white outfit isn't practical for riding a scooter. Still, he lets his eyes linger. He suggests she bring the letter for Anna so they can head that way during the

Part 4 - Chapters 11 to 13

Allegra is pulling a homemade torta di ricotta e spinaci out of the oven when Cassie calls, and Cassie is so stunned she switches to FaceTime to see it for herself. Allegra is wearing red oven mitts, which draws more jokes, but Cassie quickly notices something real: Allegra is glowing, tan, wind-blown, and free of the stress rash she used to get. Allegra explains that her new favorite mode of transportation is her grandmother’s bright purple Vespa, and Cassie is amazed at how different she looks. Even Allegra has noticed it. She has stopped carrying her shoulders up by her ears, the pain in her neck is gone, and she is not even sure where her laptop is. She realizes how little time has passed since she arrived in Tuscany, yet she feels calmer than she did after a two-week Caribbean vacation the year before.

Cassie asks if Allegra has met any hot Italian men. Allegra hesitates and changes the subject. She is not ready to admit how much she is thinking about her insanely hot neighbor, especially not to Cassie, who would encourage it.

Then Cassie delivers office news. Mr. Ellington fired Sierra after she went to a hearing unprepared, asked for a continuance Judge Paxon denied, lost a winnable motion to compel, and got berated by their client. Before leaving, Ellington asked for Allegra’s personal cell number. Cassie gave it to him. The case goes to trial in a little over four weeks, and Allegra’s three-month stay in Tuscany has barely reached one week. If Ellington follows her to her next firm, it would be a major win, because word travels and other clients often follow. But Allegra has not even started looking for a new firm. Cassie suggests she open her own practice. Allegra balks, saying she is not sure she is ready to go out alone, but Cassie reminds her that she would not be alone. In a few months, Allegra will have her inheritance, and she could fund something big. Cassie’s point stays with her after they hang up. A week ago, Allegra would have hyper-focused on this opportunity. Now the thought leaves her unsettled, so she deliberately ignores it.

She walks down to Nonna’s antique shop, where time seems to stand still. She intends to clean, but instead she finds an old Victrola and spends three hours on the floor playing 78 after 78, hand-cranking the handle and letting the muffled, achingly beautiful music float out through the brass horn. Only when every record has played does she force herself to work. She washes the floors, cleans the windows, and dusts every glass display case.

Near the cash register, she spots a box she had completely forgotten: a woman brought it in a few days ago insisting Allegra pay for the piece inside. Unwrapped from crinkled newspaper is a delicate hand-painted teacup, the base showing a Tuscan scene of rolling green hills, lavender wildflowers, and a golden sunset. Beneath it is a photograph of the exact same scene. On the back of the photo, in cursive: Confession #8: I kept waiting for the perfect moment to tell you I'd fallen in love, but every moment with you was already perfect. The words catch Allegra off guard.

The shop bell jangles, and an older woman walks in, asking something in fast Italian. Allegra apologizes and says she speaks only a little Italian. The woman frowns and asks, “Sophia?” Allegra tries to explain that Sophia was her grandmother and has died. The woman’s eyes widen, and then she hugs Allegra tightly. Afterward, she sweeps through the shop gathering random items, dumps them at the register, pays cash without waiting for change, and leaves.

Allegra takes the teacup to the back of the shop. Nonna’s note had said the tea set she was collecting was stored in the closet, so Allegra looks there. She pulls a large box from the bottom shelf and unwraps cup after cup, each hand-painted by the same artist and each with a matching photograph. One shows a stone church with stained-glass windows and a bell tower, its note reading: Confession #1: I pretended not to notice you staring that day at church, but the truth is, I was hoping you'd never stop. Another shows the Eiffel Tower, two people drinking wine under a striped umbrella; the back is dated six years ago: Confession #4: Doing nothing with you in Paris feels like I’m doing everything I was meant to accomplish. A field of yellow sunflowers bears Confession #7 about the warmth of the Tuscan sun. A Santorini night sky full of stars carries Confession #9 about a love that outshines all the stars. Reading them, one after another, Allegra’s heart feels full of hope. Then she reaches the bottom of the box and finds a photograph without a matching teacup. On the back is Confession #12: Forgive me. I never meant to hurt the one I loved most.

At Matteo’s house that evening

Allegra stands at Matteo’s door during a stunning sunset, holding one of the two pies she made so she can thank him for the scooter lesson. Electronic dance music thumps from inside, which surprises her, and when the door swings open, it is not Matteo standing there. It is a gorgeous woman with long shiny black hair, high cheekbones, full lips, and sparkling blue eyes, wearing a short black silk robe. Allegra is struck by how familiar she looks, possibly like a model or someone famous, and instantly regrets not brushing her hair. The woman asks if Allegra speaks Italian, smiles when Allegra apologizes, and says she loves speaking English. She eyes the pie and mentions she has not had carbs in a week. Allegra assumes she is interrupting an after-sex moment with Matteo and tries to hand over the pie and escape.

Then Matteo’s deep voice comes from behind the woman. He is wearing only a towel. He looks at the pie and says it looks good. The woman glances between them and smirks: “Oh. This is her?” Allegra asks what she means, and Matteo rolls his eyes. She is his sister, Luciana, dropping in unannounced for a full week. Relief floods through Allegra so strongly that her face flushes. Luciana takes her by the elbow and pulls her inside, eager to meet the woman her brother has been talking about all evening.

Matteo goes to put on clothes and yells for Luciana to turn down her shitty music. Luciana pours Allegra a generous glass of red wine and asks if Allegra dances. Allegra answers, “Umm, no. I’m a lawyer,” and then realizes her mistake, laughing at herself. She admits she used to like going out, back when she had a life, but she has worked for years and currently has no excuse since she is unemployed. Luciana seizes the moment and announces they are going to Tartana Discoteca on Friday night. Allegra tries to back out, saying she does not have the right clothes, but Luciana says she has two suitcases and will dress her. When Allegra keeps hesitating, Luciana points out that Allegra herself just said she has no excuse not to have a life. Allegra agrees. “What the hell? Sure. Why not?”

Matteo reappears and frowns when he hears the plan. Luciana calls him a stick in the mud and eventually tells Allegra that they are twins, revealing why she looks familiar. Matteo tells Allegra she does not have to go to the club, but Allegra insists she wants to. Luciana preens. With Matteo grumbling, he goes to the cellar to get another bottle, and Luciana tells Allegra, “He likes you.” Allegra thinks she means as a friend, but Luciana corrects her: he likes her, likes her. Allegra replies that he has grown to tolerate her, but Luciana insists he has talked about Allegra since she arrived and that she usually cannot get her brother to say more than three words. Allegra’s heart flutters like a teenager’s, even though she knows she has no business getting involved with a man four thousand miles away.

Luciana goes to bed early, leaving the two of them alone. Matteo wants to share the pie and offers to make a salad. Allegra watches him move around the kitchen and finds it sexy that he is comfortable there. She asks about his social life, trying to seem casual, but he sees through her and asks directly if she wants to know about his dating life. She denies it at first, then rolls her eyes and admits she is a little curious. His smile looks like a gloat, so she teases that there are slim pickings in the area, and it is either him or the nineteen-year-old. Matteo’s smile falls. He sips his wine.

When Matteo turns the conversation back on Allegra, dinner becomes a night of full disclosure. He tells her about the last woman he dated, a one-date disaster because she ate half his lasagna, and admits that most of his recent relationships have been short-lived. Then he reveals something heavier: he was married once, to an American woman. Isabella moved from America to Italy during their first year of high school and became