Page 85 of Gone With the Wine

“What rule?”

“Always drink responsibly. As in, don’t spill.”

A laugh rises in my throat. Jesus. What’s happening to me? I feel so relaxed. So loose. Free.

We eat at the kitchen table while Moose sits at our feet, much better behaved out here. Bianca fills clean glasses and we finish the wine as we eat, and talk.

“How’s harvest going at Caparelli?” I ask.

She filles me in on some details, mostly positive. I’m still blown away by the fact that so many people came to help them pick grapes. Between her and Rosa, they know everyone in town and apparently people like them enough to support their new venture. The small community where everyone knows each other has its downsides—that story about the bar brawl being one of them—but also advantages, too.

The only one not helping them is her uncle. And cousins, I guess. I can see how that bothers her.

“You’ll show them,” I say.

She lifts her chin. “We will. It’s just kind of disheartening, you know? I don’t think Nonna would like this. Family was so important to her.”

I nod.

“What aboutyourfamily?” she asks. “You haven’t said much about them.”

“My parents are great. They were always supportive of my hockey career. A littletoosupportive at times.” I grimace.

She sets down her fork and rests her chin on her hand, watching me. “They pushed you to play?”

“They did, but I also loved it. They were convinced from the time I laced up a pair of skates that I was going to be a superstar.”

“Ah. That’s nice.”

“Yeah. They did a lot for me, that’s for sure. Made a lot of sacrifices. They’re a little concerned about my mental health, not to mention my investment portfolio at the moment.”

She smiles. “Because of buying the winery.”

“Yeah. They didn’t want me to retire in the first place. To them, that was giving up. Never mind that I’d had a pretty good run—twelve years in the NHL. Then they tried to talk me out of buying a winery. And if Iwasgoing to buy a winery, they thought I should at least buy one close to home, like Niagara-on-the-Lake.”

“Where do they live?”

“Toronto.”

“Ah. Is that where you grew up?”

“Yep. Until I was fifteen. Then I moved to Ottawa to play major junior hockey.”

She purses her lips, a small indent appearing between her eyebrows. “Did your whole family move there for you?”

“No. Just me. I was billeted with a family. Both my parents worked and they couldn’t just up and move. But they were still really involved.”

“That’s really young to leave home.”

“It is. Thank God for billet families. I landed a really good one.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“No. Only child.”

She nods. “So hockey was really a huge part of your life.”

“It was mywholelife.” I meet her eyes and give a thin smile. “In retrospect, it probably shouldn’t have been. That may be why my marriage flatlined.”

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