It was smooth. Maybe the smoothest wine I had ever tasted. But like any alcohol, by the time I was on my fourth glass, I couldn’t tell you if I was drinking nectar or tequila. My tongue was numb and I was sufficiently buzzed. It was good shit.

I turned my phone to silent. I’d declined all incoming calls, including several from my mother. As far as she knew I had left town and wouldn’t return for another twelve years. I certainly wasn’t returning with the wife I had been tasked to knock up.

I huffed. It was fucking insane. A nightmare.

She had always been complicit in my father’s wishes. She had stood by his side no matter what the deal. What the contract. Even demanding control of his only son’s life. I wasn’t answering her calls. She might as well be as dead as my father.

The restaurant was busier now. I wasn’t the only customer. Evie had a few other tables. I watched her from the corner.

We didn’t run in the same circles in high school. She was a nice girl. The kind who didn’t have a reputation. Good for her. She stayed out of trouble. As I watched her work, I couldn’t say I remembered her being this pretty back then.

Her auburn hair was pulled back. And even that tiny waitress apron couldn’t disguise the amazing body she had. I took another gulp of wine. Yeah, Evie Rossi was a late bloomer, and hell she was one incredible looking flower now.

I straightened up and tried to appear slightly less drunk when she walked over. She checked on my table every few minutes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to order dinner? You have to be hungry. I could at least bring you a basket of bread straight from the oven. What’s better than hot bread on a snowy afternoon?” she asked.

“If you’re worried I’m taking one of your tables for the night, I promise I’ll tip well. More than all the other tips. I swear.” Fuck. Was I already slurring my words? This wine was knocking me on my ass. The Italians knew what they were doing with this bottle.

She shook her head. “No. Jeremy, I would never even say that. You’re a friend. You can stay as long as you want. I just know how hard that wine can hit without some food in your stomach.”

“Am I?”

“Hmm?”

“A friend? You called me a friend. Were we friends in high school? Really, friends?”

She tilted her head to the side. “We graduated from NH High together. Of course you’re a friend. We were in Mrs. Wratchet’s AP English together. Remember how she always talked about her cat?” Evie laughed. “And the crazy cat lady is still teaching. Can you believe that?”

“Still teaching? What is she a hundred by now?”

“I think so.” Evie grinned. “Can I please bring you something to eat?”

I sighed. “All right.” There was something in her eyes. I didn’t think it was pity. It was something sweet. Something in the eyes of a good girl. A look I hadn’t seen from a woman in a long time.

I didn’t want anything to kill the buzz, but I could always order another bottle of wine before heading to the airport. I still had six hours to go. Six hours to keep my mind off that shitstorm of a meeting in the attorney’s office.

“What do you recommend?” I eyed her. Damn. She had beautiful long lashes.

“Leo’s specialty is the chicken parm. He made it from scratch for the dinner service.”

“I think I heard something about that.” I leaned back. “I’ll take an order.” I looked at the bottle in front of me. There was half a glass left if I was lucky. “And another bottle of Malbec. The same one.”

Her lashes blinked in disbelief. “Another bottle?”

“Maybe you could join me,” I offered. “Sit and have a glass with me. Like the old times we never had.” I chuckled.

“I still have two tables, but thanks. I’ll be right back. I’ll put that order in for you.”

I watched her walk away. Her curvy hips swayed as she made a B-line for the bar. It didn’t make any sense, but there was nothing I wanted more in this moment than for Evie to sit and drink a glass of wine with me. Maybe two.

Catch up with an old friend. Pretend my entire upbringing wasn’t rooted in evil and greed. For one night, let a sweet girl talk and smile and pretend life wasn’t fucked up. Let her make me believe I grew up in a town with good people. A town where being the son of Eric Hartwell wasn’t something I was ashamed of. I didn’t know it before, but Evie seemed like the kind of girl that could create a new reality in the dark world I lived in.

I looked at my watch and then the tables. The only tables left were hers.

Evie disappeared through a door behind the bar. I assumed it was the wine cellar. I doubted they kept a high-dollar bottle of red behind the register. I had a few minutes to clear the restaurant. I staggered to the first table.

“Hey folks. Enjoying your dinner?” I asked.

The older couple looked up from their plates of spaghetti. “We are. You?”

“Waiting on the chicken parm,” I explained. “It’s snowing pretty hard out there.”

“Oh, I have good snow chains, son. The snow doesn’t bother us. We live up the mountain. We’re a couple ole’ seasoned snow birds.” He chuckled.

I nodded, reaching for my wallet. “Would this help you buy some for next season?” I placed the hundred dollar bills next to his silverware.

He looked up. “What’s this about?”

“I like to eat alone.” I smiled. “Why don’t you ask your waitress to box up your dinner? This should take care of your meal and your time.”

His wife looked more confused than he was. “You want us to leave?”

“Yes. But I think that’s fair compensation.” It was four hundred dollars. What more did they want? I had basically paid for a lifetime of meals at Bella’s if they wanted. I didn’t care how they spent the money, as long as they gave me what I wanted—the restaurant to myself.

“Albert, we could use the money,” she whispered.

It only took another second before Albert collected the cash, grabbed his wife’s hand, and strolled out of Bella’s.

I was ready to make the same offer to the next table, but they were already paying their tab. I walked back to the booth and waited for Evie to return.

She had the bottle of wine in one hand and closed the door behind her. She looked out at the empty tables.

I shrugged. “I guess they wanted to make it out before the snow got too bad.”

She frowned. “I guess so.”

“So, what about that glass of wine now?”

The bartender had wiped down the bar and was counting the register. There was a busboy sweeping at the opposite end of the restaurant.

“I-I still have to shut down.”

I grabbed her by the wrist. She looked at me.

“Come on, one glass with an old friend?” I cocked my eyebrow. “I’m going to be on a plane soon and who knows when I’ll be back in Newton Hills. If ever, really.”

I saw the grin spread on her face. “All right. How can I say no to Jeremy Hartwell?”

I lifted my empty glass in the air. “I don’t think you can.”