We’d been arguing. Not much of a surprise, because that’s how we spent the majority of our time. We’d been staying with Fredrik, my brother-in-law, in his villa situated on a ten-acre vineyard just outside Pisa and purchased by his wife, Laili, who could afford to make her beloved husband the gentleman-farmer she so lovingly accused him of wanting to be.

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.