“I don’t know. I already got a good thing going,” Alice replied. “I mean I want to, but I don’t want to ruin it with Ez.”

“Think about it. Talk to her.” Hugo grabbed the menu. “Besides, I’m sure you could work it into the deal so we can get free food all the time.”

Alice paused and shot a disparaging glance at Hugo.

He buried his face behind the menu.

“Free food?”

He lowered the menu, meeting her eye to eye. “Well—” he started. “You would brew the wine. I, the local wine connoisseur, would approve of said wine. We should get our meals comped because we’d be here all the time, anyway.”

He winked back. She cut off his gaze with her menu.

A waitress approached the table. She carried two empty wineglasses and a greenish-black bottle. She set the glasses down in front of them and presented the bottle, holding it so the label was clearly displayed.

“A new offering, compliments of Antonio himself,” the waitress said.

Their eyes locked on the familiar black and gray label and the elegant white lettering. The gold crown. The playing card suits. The heart on top.

“A bottle ofRed-Hearted Queen.”

Alice and Hugo locked eyes with each other. They arched their eyebrows with widened eyes and lips curled up. Hugo slightly shrugged his shoulders. Alice shrugged her shoulders with a slight head tilt in response. He assumed she had the same reservations he did about this particular brand. Hugo turned his attention to the waitress.

“That’ll be fine,” he said.

The waitress set the bottle on the table. She produced a winged corkscrew from her apron pocket and placed it atop the neck of the bottle. The wings lifted as she twisted it deeper into the soft wood cork. Each twist brought back memories of the bitter taste.

“There is definitely something else in this.”The memory rushed back of Alice’s initial assessment when taking that first sip. The memory of the bitter taste. Nothing like he’d ever tasted before in wine.

I should turn this down, but I can’t offend Antonio. Suck it up and drink it.

The waitress pushed down on the handles, and a small pop broke the silence at the table. The cork was free from its hiding spot. Hugo watched every motion intently.

She removed the corkscrew and poured wine into both glasses. “I’ll give you two a few minutes to look over the menu.”

They gave each other unknowing glances.

“Well, Mr. Connoisseur,” Alice egged him on. “Try it out.”

Hugo grabbed the stem of the wineglass. He examined the reddish-purple liquid inside. He spun the glass around, releasing the aromatic flavors held within. He raised the glass to his nose, taking in all the smells.

“Fruity. Earthy. A hint of oak,” Hugo said.

“So far, so good,” Alice replied.

Hugo took a sip. He sloshed the liquid back and forth in his mouth. His taste buds savored the liquid before he gulped it down. His face contorted, not out of disgust, but frustration. There was a distinct taste, but he could not figure it out.

“There is a hint of something,” Hugo said. “I still don’t know what.”

Alice grabbed her glass. She swirled it around and sniffed the inside before taking a sip. She made a face as the liquid washed over her taste buds. She swirled it around in her mouth before taking a drink. Her head tilted. Hugo thought she was searching for the answer about the mysterious ingredient.

“I don’t know what that is,” she replied. “There’s something in this wine. I can’t place it.”

Hugo took another sip. “I think yours is better.”

Alice smiled and raised her glass. “A toast.”

Hugo followed suit. “A toast to what?”