I hadn’t gotten that far. I really didn’t want to go back to my parents’ place, and we were overdressed to go to a restaurant.
“Come, Mylos,” she said, leading me to the bank of lifts.
“Pia, I wasn’t suggesting—”
“I’ll change out of this dress, and we can decide from there.”
When I’d gone to her room earlier, I saw through the open door that she had a suite. That was probably the only reason she was inviting me up. Or maybe when we got there, she’d ask me to wait for her in the hallway.
I reached into my pocket and found the two things that would settle my overwhelming anxiety. The first was her stone. The second was the bottle of pills my sister had been gracious enough to leave me. The bint.
“Mi scusi,” Pia said once we were in the suite.
She opened a door, went into the bedroom, and closed it behind her. I walked over to the bar area, filled a glass with water, and got out my bottle of pills. After shaking three into my hand, I put them in my mouth and swallowed. I closed my eyes, knowing that soon the calm I craved would wash over me. When I turned around, Pia was standing in the doorway, wearing a jumper and a pair of joggers.
Her eyes were scrunched as she studied me.
“Lily told you her concern.”
She nodded. “She’s worried about you.”
“Needlessly.”
She walked closer. “You can lie to her, you can even lie to me, but you cannot lie to yourself, Mylos.”
“I should go.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps you should.”
I hated she wasn’t at least trying to stop me.
“Or you can stay, but if you do, you’ll have to tell me the truth.”
“What’s your plan, Pia? Interrogation? Don’t forget my training.”
She shook her head. “Stronzo.” She sat on the arm of the sofa and folded her arms. “You said you wanted to talk. What about, Mylos? The weather? Our vineyard performance? Or maybe you wanted to ask about my life?”
“How is your life, Pia?”
“It isn’t good.” She shifted, and instead of sitting on the arm, she sat on the sofa’s cushion.
I walked closer so I could see her face. “Why not?”
“Many things,” she murmured, not looking at me.
“Tell me about them.”
“Because you care?”
“Of course I do. I’ll always care about you, Pia.”
She didn’t say anything for several seconds, as though she was weighing whether she believed me.
“I am twenty-six years old. Do you know what my life is like?”
I shook my head when she turned to face me.
“I get up in the morning, and the first thing I do is check on my mother. Why? Because I live with her. Why else? Because she’s getting older and she’s all alone.” She shook her head. “And then I go down to the winery. If Georgio, the head winemaker, is there, he argues with me. It doesn’t matter what about. The subject changes daily, but the underlying theme is that I am a terrible manager.”