Page 22 of Just for a Taste

“I see. I’m not sure what to say anymore, then.”

He sat further back on the bench, a clear sign there was no plan to leave soon. “Then tell me about your garden.”

“I’ve had a lot of gardens. The one when I was a kid was a vegetable garden. Originally, it was because my pa told me I wasn’t allowed to read new books until I started going outside more, but I started finding it relaxing and rewarding. After the chicken attack, I was too scared to go close to the hens that ate around the garden, so I moved areas and changed the type of garden.”

For a moment, I became acutely aware I was rambling and was afraid I would bore Duca de’ Medici. Instead, his gaze upon me was intense. He seemed genuinely curious, latching onto every word.

“What other types of gardens did you have?” he prompted gently.

“In college, I actually had a rock garden. When I first moved to London for college—” I paused, unsure whether to go on. But then I remembered last night and pressed forward. “When I first moved there and left my family, my panic attacks started getting really bad. My therapist was the one who suggested the rock garden, but it didn’t feel alive enough for me. I added some bonsai, but their upkeep actually made the panic attacks worse.”

I watched Duca de’ Medici carefully. His reaction at this moment would be pivotal. Mental illness was a taboo subject, and I didn’t know if it was one I could trust him with.

To my shock and relief, he casually responded, “Oh, so that’s what happened last night. I’m sorry you’ve experienced that kind of fear.”

I shook my head quickly. “No, it’s okay! Ever since I got diagnosed with panic disorder, it’s become a lot easier to get through. And, um, thank you for helping me through it. I didn’t think you would do something like that.”

The vampire chuckled and gave me a small, lopsided smile. “I was afraid I’d given you that impression. Despite how I come off, I’m not that wicked.”

My face grew warm, and my eyes widened. “N-no, I didn’t mean that! Well, I guess Ididthink you were an ass, but—”

Duca de’ Medici threw back his head and laughed. “Iknewyou were interesting.”

Though I was still a bit flustered, I couldn’t help but smile. “Anyway, I also had a stint with microgreens, but that didn’t last long. Turns out they taste pretty gross.”

His tone softening again, he asked, “Do you miss gardening?”

“Yes. It’s funny—even though it’s associated with one of the worst parts of my life, I miss my rose garden the most. I felt almost close to those flowers, since I really didn’t have anyone else at that point.”

Although he had just laughed at me, Duca de’ Medici had no clever quip, no sarcastic remark for me. He just tilted his head toward me and flickered his eyes across my face until I felt hot. Then, finally: “I see. Why not?”

I was grateful then, for the curtain of hair that fell out of place from being tucked behind my ear, for the shield away from his piercing gaze. It was because of that protection alone that I could speak normally.

“My pa had just passed, and Ma stayed in bed all day. Well, in bed or at the kitchen table with the moonshine our pa used to make. My older sister Peachy—er, Opaline—kind of became my ma, even though she was only two years older. She was too busy with cooking and cleaning and even mailing out the bills to spend time with me anymore. Outside of books, I was never really one for friends outside of her. Ugh, that sounds so pathetic.”

He shrugged broadly and gave me a reassuring smile. “You had roses and a sister for friends. I had birds and a cousin.”

I chuckled. “At least yours were animals.”

I looked over, expecting him to mirror my casual expression, but I was met with a slightly furrowed brow and a faraway look. “Thorns aside, roses aren’t cruel, Signorina Bowling. Not like how Basilio became. He was my dearest and only friend once, and now I am left with birds.”

I had absolutely no idea what to say or do. I wanted to ask about this cryptic statement, but was terrified to overstep and ruin all the progress we had made.

As the silence lingered, his gaze on me intensified.

“I would like to make your acquaintance with someone important,” Duca de’ Medici said finally, “if you are willing.”

If sadness was absinthe, then confusion was like cooking wine. As much as I wanted to retreat, it wasn’t as though I had grounds to decline, other than the fact that I was nervous to meet someone with my face still sticky with tears.

“Um, okay.”

Without another word, Duca de’ Medici gestured for me to follow him and crossed the room toward a planted area I hadn’t noticed before.

Chapter 11: Sempre Libera

Despite the lack of plants elsewhere, leaves curtained the corner of the room. He carefully gathered the branches and held them to the side, making a soft clicking sound. Keeping ample space between us, I squinted my eyes into the darkness, where a small bundle of bare twigs came into view.

After allowing the branches to whisk back into place, Duca de’ Medici looked over his shoulder and gave me a reassuring nod. I took a hesitant step forward.

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