Deluca

ELEVEN

"I said fifty and you picked two thousand?"

"Tuo, mio, nostro."

"What does that mean?" She always found herself enthralled whenever Francesco spoke in his native tongue.

"Yours, mine, ours." He punctuated his sentence by handing Eleanor the glass, "Let me show you."

Eleanor took the glass, ready for instruction.

"First you look at it once you pour, when you spend this much on wine you make sure there are no impurities in the glass on first pour." He explained.

Eleanor held the glass to the light as she had seen him done moments before, the light amber of the wine showed nothing amiss.

"Now you smell it, you always inhale as you drink, you'll get all of the notes."

Now, if Eleanor had been completely honest with Francesco she would've let him know it smelled akin to apple cider vinegar, but she hadn't wanted to interrupt his moment.

"Then, sip." He did the same with his glass and Eleanor followed suit. She wasn't able to stop her nose from turning up from the bitterness of the wine. It tasted like cooking wine mixed with ... lime.

Francesco's laugh at her reaction was booming, filling the entire kitchen as Eleanor spit the liquid out back into the cup. When he finally sobered, he walked to the fridge and pulled out something familiar.

It was a bottle of Stella Rosa, Eleanor's favorite wine that Giuseppe had begrudgingly purchased for Eleanor on every visit. Her eye lit up at the fifty-dollar bottle.

"Giuseppe told me this is the wine you prefer, though you can hardly call it wine."

Eleanor took the bottle as though he was handing her a brick of gold in awe, pouring a generous amount into her glass before taking a sip of the sweet liquid.

"This is how I expect a two-thousand-dollar bottle of wine to taste."

"It... twist open, it's not even corked, I genuinely think it is juice," Francesco said, taking the bottle and reading over the contents. Eleanor glanced over to the time on the stove illuminating the area.

"Is drinking wine when we are supposed to be our new thing?" Eleanor asked, changing the subject as she was growing touchy on his classist gaze over the bottle.

Francesco shrugged, "As long as none of my family members appear, then I will suddenly be too tired to talk."

"Oh, so you do notice?" Eleanor asked. She was wrong to assume as his face turned into one a face looking for better understanding.

"Oh, there are two Francesco." She pointed out.

"There are two, but I am not sure I am understanding what you mean."

"Wait, there are two of you?" Eleanor asked.

Francesco set his glass down, "Can we have one conversation at a time?"

Eleanor rolled her eyes, she was getting her conversational habits from Giselle again, "Okay you go first, two Francesco's?"

He smirked at her in amusement, "Yes, my father and I, but I have a feeling that is not what you meant."

"No, I was referring to the two Francescos I see every day. There's the night Francesco and the Day Francesco." Eleanor explained, "You don't... laugh a lot around your family." It was a conversation they had before, but the longer she remained the more and more it stood out every day.