“Just a local blend that’s left over from the vineyards, probably. They sell it as a house wine. It can vary slightly from year to year, depending on what’s exported.”

We locked eyes.

I set my glass down. “What do you do exactly?”

His gaze flicked to his glass where he trailed a finger down the side of it, then back to me.

“Long story,” we both said at the same time. Mine a question, his a statement.

He smiled, and I laughed into my wine.

“I love that you don’t know.”

I frowned. “And you want to keep it that way?”

He blew out a breath, his eyes growing serious. “I find myself wanting to tell you everything. You are so easy to be with.” He picked up his glass and took a healthy sip. Now that he was letting himself be with me was the unspoken follow up.

“I wish I could say the same.”

His head cocked to the side, wordlessly asking me to explain. A faint look of hurt rippled behind his poker mask.

“I mean this, here, you, right now. It’s … great. But on the same day you tell me women want too much of you. I can imagine, I know,” I corrected, “how they could fall into that trap of wanting more of you than you’re willing to give them. To give me. This version of you is …” I took a small sip of wine, wondering how honest to be and deciding I’d said enough. What I wanted to say was “this version of you is easy to fall in love with.” But the truth was every version of him was.

I couldn’t look at him. I picked at a small piece of my bread. Then Cristo was there, gesticulating and pointing to a small rickety wooden stairwell.

We got up and followed him. At the bottom of the stairs, Xavier waved me after Cristo and ahead of him. After what happened outside, this should have been funny. But I’d ruined the vibe. I moved ahead of him. But the moment my foot touched the first stair, he took my arm stilling me, and stepped up behind me, his mouth at my ear. “I was talking about other women,” he whispered.

“What am I?” I turned my face to his.

His dropped his forehead to my shoulder for a second, then he looked up at me, his expression helpless. “You’re … you.”

I nodded at his non answer, knowing it was probably all I’d get, then I continued following Cristo upstairs.

Chapter Thirty-Six

After following Cristo up four flights of ancient wooden stairs, that got narrower, and more rickety, I was seriously ready to question the safety of this adventure. “How old do you think this building is?” I asked Xavier over my shoulder.

At each turn, we passed closed wooden doors set into whitewashed stucco and kept climbing.