free spirit

Maverick wasn’t sure what he expected from Giorgia. He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t jump for joy at the sight of him. However, he had some hope that she was would have been happier to see him, than the reaction he had received. Now that he was here, he had almost wished that he never came. He was sure that he certainly was not ready for their reunion, but he couldn’t help the fact he had just wanted to lay his eyes on his ex-wife. Maverick wanted to make sure she had been okay, and that she was taking care of herself. After all, he still loved the woman - despite the fact that she broke his heart. Not that he would ever admit that fact out loud to anyone. 

After she took the flowers into her hands, he cleared his throat. His eyes glanced down at his shoes, mentally kicking himself for the choice of tennis shoes, before looking back up at her. “I - I uh have been back for a little bit now. About four months. I figured it would be a good place to come back to after I got out of rehab.” 

At least part of that was true. However, his father wouldn’t let him come back to their home after his release - not that he had wanted to move back into his parents’ home. Maverick knew he couldn’t stay in New York, and be around the same crowd that was part of the recent that he checked into rehab, to begin with. Eureka was his safest bet. “So, uh - how have you been?” 

...

Giorgia wasn’t sure what to feel. Sure, she was happy to see him. This was her ex-husband, the one she married because she felt he was truly her soulmate. At times she still believed he was. Confused, was another feeling. Was she supposed to know that he’d gotten out of rehab? Maverick had sent her a birthday card every single year, but there had never been a “I’m out of rehab”-card. So had he expected her to reach out? Giorgia had left him for a reason — for his happiness. To pursue his dream of creating a family of his own. Not to drown his sadness with drugs. Perhaps part of the reason as to why she wasn’t as happy to see him, was because she blamed herself for his situation. Had she never filed for divorce then perhaps he would’ve been in a better place.

“Four months? Oh — I didn’t know.” Again — should she have known? Had she missed a text, or call, or card? Anything? Or had he just been in the same town as her for the last four months, avoiding her? Giorgia wouldn’t blame him if that were the case. God knows she would’ve done the same, if not worse. “It’s good to see you, Mav. You look well.” And she meant that. Part of her had never really gotten over him. Big part of her, to be honest. Giorgia knew she would never completely get over him. She had once envisioned them to spend the rest of their lives together, grow old and grey together. Until she couldn’t anymore and left.

“I’ve been good. Just working at the gallery, nothing special. Evan started college and moved out, so it’s just me now.” She only had her son stay at her place certain days of the week, but it still made a huge difference now that he was living on his own. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Coffee?”

“That’s what you’re into right now? Younger and richer?” Dani made a faux face of disgust before giving way to a trickle of laughter. Truth be told, it didn’t sound all that bad. “I don’t know, you could get a dog and then we can both be dog ladies. Somehow I feel like it’s significantly less sad when it’s a dog. But yes, dessert is definitely happening.”

...

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not?” Giorgia spoke, lifting her brows as she simply shrugged. “Good point. I don’t think my son would ever look at me again if I became a cat lady. Dog ladies — let’s do that. Much cooler.” With a subtle chuckle, she took the last sip of her drink before taking the dessert menu in her hands. “You know what — that Tiramisu is calling my name. What about you?” Taking another look at the menu, she slowly shook her head. “Scrap young and rich. I want a man that can make me dessert.”

“Pretty Woman? The Wedding Singer is also a top contender.” She told the brunette holding up the remote signaling to her friend that she could make the final choice. As much as Olivia loved her first pregnancy, she was absolutely miserable during the second go-round. Not that she wasn’t excited for her baby, but she constantly had to pee due to Teddy sitting on her bladder and she had gained at least 40 pounds. 

“Want me to make you a Tinder? I am pretty good at it.” She grinned, before pulling up the blanket over her legs. “We could go to the bar, and I could guilt-trip guys to come to our table. Pregnant women are the best wing women.” 

...

Eyes lit up at the mention of the movie, a subtle smile ghosting on her lips. “Pretty Woman it is. Always.” It had been a while since she last watched it — or any movie, for that matter. Giorgia wasn’t the type of person to just sit by herself and watch a movie. For some reason she didn’t have the attention span to sit through a movie of two or three hours. Binging a whole Netflix show in one night, though? Easy.

At the mention of Tinder, she couldn’t help but scrunch up her nose. “I’ve heard of Tinder, seen Tinder, but will absolutely not put that on my phone. I’d probably only use that when I’m drunk and we do not want that.” Besides, she had no time to be swiping left and right, did she? She probably did, but still, it wasn’t the wisest idea. Giorgia was kinda old school when it came to that — meeting someone in a more spontaneous was the way to her heart. “See, the bar is much more my place. You know what, once you push that tiny little human out I’m treating you to a well deserved night out. Lots of drinks and lots of men.”

“I leave the sweets spoiling to my mother. Seems the sort of job for a grandparent, doesn’t it?” Isaac replied with warmth, knowing that with a force of nature like his mother, there was little he might say or do to keep her from spoiling her only grandchild. So long as he stayed in the no-cavity club, Isaac didn’t have any complaints. “I can’t confess to eating much of anything green when I was twenty and away at college myself. It was a lot of instant noodle cups.” 

Isaac glanced briefly down at Noah, ensuring he wasn’t getting into any trouble as he continued to eye up the display. “I don’t mind at all. He’s turning four very soon.” There would always be a note of pride in Isaac’s tone when he spoke of his son, his greatest joy in life. “Which I should say is quite the miracle, as he has only me to rely on. I thought parenting was difficult with a partner to do it with. But on your own? Can’t share the blame if they end up screwed up.” He joked softly. “Seems your son made it to adulthood in one piece. Any tips of the trade to offer?”

...

“You’re absolutely right,” Giorgia agreed, though that agreement was not based on her own experience. Sure, her grandparents had been great. But her parents had never been involved in Evan’s life. Luckily her ex-husband’s parents had been, making great grandparents for their son which he truly deserved. She had no resentment left for her parents. As she got older, part of her understood — accepted it, even. “Instant noodle cups were my go to in college, too. It’s a miracle I even know how to cook myself a normal meal these days,” she confessed with a chuckle.

She softly smiled once he mentioned that he was a single parent, though she couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment. “You can always just blame the DNA,” Giorgia added on. “Ah, well — can’t really take all the credit for that. But honestly? I think the most important thing is to just get to know your kid. Aside from being their parent, you have to be their best friend. Seems to me like you’re doing a great job at at that so far. The rest will follow naturally, you know?” She’d read many books on parenthood once she came back into her son’s life — while some of them had great tips and tricks, none of them were really groundbreaking for her.

@giorgiapalvetti​

As much as he tried to avoid it, the truth was that Adam had a weakness for sweets. Arden was constantly asking for ice cream or cupcakes or strudel whenever she was staying with him, and it was all too easy for him to oblige her requests. It was at this point a rather distressing habit to be consuming so much sugar, but it was comfort in the most basic form. He’d been craving sfogliatelle all week and there was one specific bakery across town from his bachelor’s apartment, so he rationalized the purchase by at least making the walk to the bakery and back. The calories would cancel out, right? 

Well, perhaps not if he ended up bringing home a half-dozen. 

He held the door open for the person who was walking in behind him, only to furrow his brow and then then recognize who was walking toward him. “Ah, Giorgia, hello,” he greeted. “It’s been a while, huh? Who’ve you been?” A while was an understatement, as he hadn’t seen most of his neighbors since he’d been asked to leave the home he’d shared with Manon. But he was determined to make this minimally awkward. 

...

The one thing Giorgia would never do is show up empty-handed to anything she was ever invited to. She just enjoyed putting in her own two cents, even if that was in the form of delicious sweets. Besides, was it really a dinner party without dessert? And so she made her way over to one of her favorite bakeries in Eureka, her eyes dropping to the person that held the door open for her as she walked inside. It took her a few seconds to put two and two together, but once she did a genuine smile formed across her lips.

“Adam!” Giorgia exclaimed, placing her hand on his shoulder as a way of greeting him. Quickly fixing the bag that was slipping from her shoulder, she once again settled her gaze on him. “It definitely has been a while,” she simply nodded, lips now forming more of a somewhat tight-lipped smile. "I’ve been good, same as always,” Giorgia answered briefly, light chuckle following her words. “How about you? Getting some of the goods to satisfy the sweet tooth?”

“Making people sound less crazy is all part of my job, Giorgia. Try not to seem so surprised,” she laughed along with her friend, already feeling her shoulders relaxing even before any wine was consumed. It was easy for Manon to keep a lot of stress inside her body, between everything going on at work along with home and the divorce, which was why a girl’s night with one of her dearest friends felt long overdue. “And don’t think I won’t take advantage. I am french, meaning I’m nothing without my wine.”

Taking one of the glasses gingerly from Giorgia’s grasp, she couldn’t help the small smirk that pressed against her cheeks. “I would have been gone a long while ago if I didn’t know that,” she teased, clinking her glass against her friends. “Santé,” Manon took a large sip as she followed Giorgia to the house. “This is going to sound horrible of me, but I could not wait for Arden to get picked up for the weekend,” she admitted with a roll of her eyes, plopping down on the couch. “She is really leaning into all the stereotypes there are about teenagers. I feel like I blinked one day, and the next she was having a meltdown about putting her laundry away. Did yours ever go through that?”

...

“Hm, good point,” Giorgia agreed, a smile settling on her lips after a series of laughs. Job-wise they were probably on opposite ends of the spectrum, but at the same time they weren’t. Manon’s job focused on talking with patients — about feelings, issues, all sorts of things. And while Giorgia enjoyed talking — if she’d never have to stop, she wouldn’t — when it came to feelings, she’d rather paint them on a canvas. It’s why she never got into those psychological podcasts, even though she tried really hard for a while. Looking at certain pieces of art did a better job at clearing her mind, at making her come to her senses. Manon’s next comment made her jokingly roll her eyes. “At this point if you told me you have wine running through your veins, I’d probably believe you.”

With a shake of her head and a smile, they clinked glasses. “Santé, my friend,” soon followed by a slow sip from her glass. “Mhm, this wine is something else.” Perhaps it wasn’t that bad after all that she’d bought so many. As Manon spoke of her daughter, she followed her motions and plopped down next to her friend on the couch. Nodding along with her words, it took her a second (and a sip of wine) to reply to the question. “Oh, please — that’s not horrible at all. I had never been happier for co-parenting as I was during Evan’s early teens. Suddenly they’re grumpy and they talk back. But they grow out of it eventually, just give them their space to grow and make mistakes, you know?” Thinking back to that time, she was grateful that Cyrus had been such a capable father, much more capable than she could ever be as a mother. “Is she staying with Adam this weekend?”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” his voice was full of faux offense, but he couldn’t keep it up for long before mirroring her chuckle.  It had been interesting, especially in those first few years when Giorgia had been absent, to see Evan turn into his own little person.  Of course, he had Cyrus as a main influence, and that could be seen easily.  But even without Giorgia present, there were moments when Cyrus found himself blinking in disbelief as Evan would act exactly like his mother.  It was mostly facial expressions, when he had been that young, and it had caught Cyrus off guard every damn time.  In the beginning, it had hurt more than he’d like to admit, and he’d have to take a minute to clear his head.  But as time went on, before Giorgia had returned to Eureka, he had grown fond of those moments, feeling assured that even if she wasn’t in Evan’s life, he would always have a piece of his mother that way.  But she had returned, and then Evan only began to act like his mother even more. 

“I was aiming for reassuring.  With so many late night ‘oh I forgot to tell you I need project supplies for something due tomorrow’ situations, I don’t think it’s scary to know.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at that.  Moments like those he had always considered a pain in the ass, but now he sort of missed them.  

Cyrus had never been much of an art guy.  There were some types that he could appreciate.  The classics, mostly, that were based in realism and he could easily compare to something tangible and say ‘yes, they did a good job at painting that’.  But the more cerebral the art was, the less he understood.  In fact, especially when it leaned towards modern art, he found it all a bit ridiculous, especially when a single red paint stroke across a canvas would sell for more than his annual salary.  “Oh yeah?  Anything I would like? Or should I stay away in hopes of keeping myself from having a conniption?” Despite trying to keep his mouth shut on the pieces he thought were absurd, after all these years, he knew she must understand what he thought of them.

“Actually, yes, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He paused, chewing down on his bottom lip as he tried to think exactly how to approach the situation, before eventually deciding on the tried and tested ‘head on’.  “Evan wanted to know what we thought of him living off campus in an apartment next semester.” Cyrus left it at that, hoping to hear her thoughts first, thinking his own were a bit bias, and knowing he needed to be talked out of saying no.

...

“Oh God, don’t remind me,” Giorgia chuckled at the memory, hiding behind her cup of coffee as she nipped at it. “I don’t think you complained once, which honestly... you should’ve gotten an award for boyfriend of the year just for that.” And many other things, if she was being really honest. Cyrus had always been too good of a man, especially for her. He knew her during the most fragile time in her life, supported her through every single thing including their teen pregnancy and somehow she still chose to leave. Part of her couldn’t quite resonate with that anymore — though she knew that if she had been back in eighteen-year-old-Giorgia’s shoes, she’d probably do the same. Not because of him, just because of who she was.

Her lips formed a smile at his question, slowly shaking her head. “C’mon now, a conniption? I do think there’s some pieces that would fit your home quite well, you know? We have some new minimalistic pieces which I’d buy myself if I didn’t have too many hanging around my house already.” Though she knew he wasn’t that much of an art lover — which was something she’d accepted a long time ago. It was just one of the few — or many — things they didn’t have in common.

Giorgia raised a brow as he insinuated he wanted to talk about their son, for some reason worry settling in the pit of her stomach almost immediately. Though she knew she’d talked to Evan just a few days prior, so it couldn’t have been anything bad, right? And then Cyrus spoke up, and that worry was replaced by relief. “Here I was thinking you were going to tell me he’d knocked a girl up,” Giorgia joked, though there was some truth behind it. Part of her always feared Evan would follow in her footsteps — which thank God, so far he hadn’t. “I mean, I don’t think I’d have any issues with that. Is he going to move in with friends?” Giorgia hadn’t heard of this plan before, though was glad that Cyrus had mentioned it now. “How do you feel about it?”

@giorgiapalvetti​

Location: Yirru Ga Art Gallery

Here Maverick was standing in front of the Yirru Ga Art Gallary. It took him four months to work up the courage to actually see Giorgia, but now he was rethinking everything and going right back home. Maverick wasn’t sure if he was ready to see his ex-wife, or if she even wanted to see him. However, he took a deep breath and took a step inside the Gallery. Yirru Ga was a lot different than his. While his was filled with earthy tones and maximalist vibes, Yirru was more clean and crisp, and very minimalistic. 

Just as Maverick was about to give up and go home, he caught sight of the brunette. The two had made eye contact, and now he had to actually speak to her. So, he and the bouquet of flowers he picked up at the grocery store on the way to the Gallery, made their way over. 

“Uh, Hey. I uh… I was going to call, but I figured it might have been easier for me to just stop by.” There was an awkward pause before he continued rambling. Something he tended to do when he was nervous. “Here, I brought you these.” His arm extended out to hand her the bouquet of purple flowers. 

...

Giorgia had just finished up a meeting with a client, feeling rather energized from the encounter and the pieces she’d sold. Now chatting to one of her co-workers as she quickly grabbed another cup of coffee, the ‘ding’ from the door indicated that someone had entered the gallery. Usually around this time of day it was a little quieter, unless someone had booked an appointment to view certain pieces and potentially buy them.

The sound itself always made Giorgia turn towards the door, whether she was having a conversation with someone or not doing anything at all. In this case, she had to double check once her eyes fell on the person walking through the door. Blinking once more, her eyebrows shot up. Apparently her co-worker noticed, based on the strange look she caught in the corner of her eye. Subtly clearing her throat, she released a breath she wasn’t aware of holding in ever since he stepped foot into the place.

“Maverick?” Giorgia spoke, an edge of harshness coating his name. Taking a step towards him, coffee still in hand, her eyes scanned his features. He looked well. Nervous, maybe. Her eyes then fell on the bouquet of flowers he was holding. “Hi.” As he started speaking, his voice felt so much like home, yet so strange. Slowly, she accepted the flowers and nodded. For once, she was at a loss for words. Giorgia, who normally always had her response ready in every occasion, truly didn’t know what to say to him in this very moment. “Thank you,” was what she managed to get out. Perhaps he’d always had this effect on her, from the day they met. Perhaps Maverick was the only person that really knew how to shut her up, in a good way. “I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Elope? Gross,” Dani said, face scrunching up with a faux hint of disgust. Eloping, marriage, relationships in general weren’t exactly something Dani was searching for these days considering how disastrous the last few turned out. “I mean it’s a very exclusive club but you’re more than welcome to join. For the time being, anyway. Who knows who you’ll meet in the future,” She added with the shrug of her shoulders.

...

“Oh, please — unless they’re ten years younger and rich, I’m good on my own. Maybe I’ll get cats and become a cat lady after all,” Giorgia teased, once more bringing her glass up to her lips to take a swift sip. She wasn’t sure she’d ever meet someone else after her ex-husband. Maybe just to fill the void and spend some time together, but she wasn’t expecting any sort of epic love story anytime soon. “Is it time for dessert yet? I think it’s time for dessert.”

“I mean, I can probably wine and dine you,” Dani offered teasingly with the raise of her brows and a sneaky smile before taking another sip from her wine. Truthfully, the idea of dating had been somewhat of a huge joke lately in her life and Dani had been learning to just accept that perhaps being alone was something she needed right now. However, that was easier to do with friends around, like Giorgia. “I don’t know, I heard your forties are the new twenties, besides, I’m also getting dangerously close to forty and at this point I think I’m just gonna lean into the lonely spinster idea.”

...

“Probably? Definitely,” Giorgia corrected, mirroring the brunette’s expression before dipping a fresh piece of bread into the feta dip. “Oh, cmon — no cute guys you’re trying to elope with?” She spoke teasingly, though completely relating to Dani’s words. At this point, she’d given up on the fact that she’d grow old and grey with a partner. But who knew, life had thrown her many curveballs before. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a lonely spinster — might even join the club, honestly. Sounds like a great plan for my forties.”

Georgia wouldn’t really consider herself a food critic, but she sure did enjoy food. Lots of it. Different kinds. If food could be a love language — it would be hers. Perhaps going out to a restaurant with people was part of her love language. She at least considered it one of her hobbies.

Going out for dinner with her coworkers after a successful day at the gallery wasn’t all that uncommon for them, honestly. Giorgia had promised them she’d take them to this restaurant in Downtown which she’d been to a handful of times. “You can actually watch the chef make your food, so you can start drooling before eating. The drinks are great, too.” As they sat down, she immediately spotted the chef she’d briefly talked to last time. Something Giorgia greatly enjoyed, besides food, was her love for other people’s passions — she could listen to someone talk about their passion for hours. Perhaps because she was so passionate herself, when it came to her own profession and hobby.

“I could literally watch this for hours — and eat for hours, too, probably. Noah, if I remember correctly?” Giorgia spoke, once the chef was preparing their food. “I don’t know how you do it, but it’s amazing every single time I eat here. I know we already ordered a bunch, but can you add in your favorite? Don’t say what it is — just surprise us.”

He didn’t often admit it, but it was hard with Evan off at college.  The kid had, rightfully so, been Cyrus’ entire life for the last two decades.  His entire world revolved around Evan’s needs, wants, desires and whims.  And even with the things Cyrus had to give up to be his dad, he had loved every minute of it.  He truly, and sincerely, loved being a dad.  Evan’s first year of school, he had come home often, still unsure of his place in the world, still needing that security that could only be found at home.  But now, in year two…He was off having fun, and living his life, like he should be.  But Cyrus would admit he missed him.  He missed their Sunday breakfasts at Rosie’s followed by a trip Comic Relief.  He missed constantly having to tell him to pick up his shit.  He missed debating what to make for dinner only to finally give in an order pizza.  — He also felt as if a bit of space had been made simply by the fact that his son was finally living through something that Cyrus had not, and couldn’t offer any wise words of advice or sage wisdom.  He had never gone to college, and had no clue of the pressures of shitty professors and 20 page papers and all the other things his son was now facing.

“Nah, you’re on time, you know me, I’m just always early,” he offered.  15 minutes early is on time, on time is late.  He could practically hear his father in his ear.  He had passed almost five years ago now, but Cyrus could swear he still hung around in some ways.  — He gave a nod of thanks to the server, and a smile to Giorgia.  “Hey these are the important things you remember about family in emergencies, blood type, social security number, and coffee order.” He chuckled.  But he did, consider her family, that is.  Regardless of whatever happened between them, they were always going to be tied to each other because of Evan, and that meant something to him. 

“I’m good, work is good, getting ready for the busy season, you know how it is.” he said with a shrug, never having been much for talking about himself.  “What about you, how’s the gallery?” he much preferred the small talk to the real topic he had asked her to meet up and discuss. 

...

Giorgia couldn’t help but smile at the comment. “Oh, I know — apparently you also passed that trait down to your son,” she added on with a light chuckle. Perhaps it was just her way of never being early — only when it came down to really important or urgent appointments. Other than that she’d always be right on time, or the occasional slip up of being five minutes late. Evan had been just like his dad when it came to that — which wasn’t all that strange, seeing as the now twenty-year-old boy had mainly been raised by his father. As Cyrus spoke up again, she slowly raised a brow. At the word family, her features lightly softened. She’d always had a love-hate relationship with that word, or more so, the concept of it. Through the years she learned to appreciate the people she chose as family, not the ones that were necessarily blood-related. Her parents had always cared more for her image than her well-being, that being the exact reason they cut her off when she left for college. Perhaps part of her understood now and had come to peace with that.

But Cyrus? She could truly say he’d been there through thick and thin. Not even necessarily for her, but even though he’d been the one facing the consequences of her choices back then — he still sat opposite of her today, remembering her coffee order of all things. Still managed to look her in the eye and hold an honest conversation. They had managed to work through their issues and co-parent for more than a decade now. “That’s slightly scary, but also very reassuring,” she joked, a soft shake of the head following as she chuckled.

“That’s good, I’m glad — I’m sure you’re happy about the busy season starting,” Giorgia assumed, figuring that without Evan around he’d have more free time on his hands. “I’m good, too. The gallery is going well, we’re getting a lot of new paintings these upcoming weeks which is exciting. Finally been getting back into my own art as well, actually, which is a nice change of pace.” It had taken her some time to find the inspiration to transfer paint onto a canvas — but dealing with empty nest syndrome in silence did wonders. “Have you heard from Evan this week?”

“So... based on what you told me last time,” Giorgia began, slowly guiding her friend and, in this case, client to the place where she’d collected the pieces, “I picked these.” There was a collection of four pieces in total for Alessia to choose from. “Obviously, if you don’t like these we can take a look around the gallery, there’s plenty of other pieces. But thought you might like these.” The four pieces were all different yet kind of similar — one abstract, the other more so leaning towards impressionism, there was some expressionism, too. “It really depends on your preference — or actually, your mom’s preference. What do you think?”

Isaac often wondered when the vibrant and sociable little boy that Noah had once been might reappear. Lately, it seemed he was finally making small strides, which he knew was in no small part to the introduction of pre-school and/or the Miller girls into his near daily schedule. After Shoshanna had died, Noah had gone deep into his shell, with Isaac typically at a loss in trying to help him. So to watch Noah engage with a stranger, of all things, sprouted a small seed of hope. Not quite bold enough to voice his response, Noah would simply glance up at his father before slipping from his hold, continuing to peruse the stall.

“I suppose it’s a particular stretch of luck that he goes overboard buying fruits and vegetables, when we could be having the same discussion at The Chocolate Box.” Isaac proposed with a soft laugh. “He’s a good boy, really. Hasn’t quite found his voice, yet.” 

...

“Well, you never know — though The Chocolate Box is tempting. Definitely more tempting than apples and oranges,” Giorgia agreed, words followed by a laugh of her own. “Besides, I don’t think my son would go overboard on the fruits and veggies either — and he’s twenty, so...” With a gentle shrug of her shoulders, she offered him a smile.

His second comment made the smile linger for a bit. “He comes across as the sweetest boy, so I’m sure that’s true. How old is he? If you don’t mind me asking,” Giorgia offered, that same smile from a few seconds before lingering on her face. Part of her resonated with the little boy. Giorgia had once been the quiet kid. She’d rather draw and paint, instead of talk. Nowadays there wasn’t much left of that quiet Giorgia, though her preference for painting had stuck around.

for: @giorgiapalvetti where: rosie’s diner

Fingers tapped a lackadaisical rhythm onto the laminated tabletop as eyes watched the comings and going of folks walking past the diner with the smallest spark of interest, mostly as they scanned for a recognizable figure.  He was early, like always, it also hadn’t hurt that he had already been downtown, doing a quick bit of perusing at Comic Relief to see if there was anything worth sending to Evan at school.  He had already ordered them coffees, hoping that Giorgia hadn’t changed her order since the last time he had seen her.  He had once thought he knew her fairly well, but she had dispelled him of that notion in one fell swoop when the divorce papers showed up on his doorstep almost 20 years ago, so now he knew better than to assume. 

Eyes and mind must have wandered away from him at some point as he was surprised to hear the bell above the door chime and a familiar head of dark hair peak itself around the corner.  “Hey,” he called out, hand raised to grab her attention as he made his way out of his seat “Over here!”  

...

Giorgia would be lying if she said she wasn’t somewhat feeling the absence of her son, now that he was off to college. In a way, it’s made her think about her time in college — more importantly, how she handled things back then. Looking at Evan, she was happy to see that he had made much wiser decisions than she had back then. Though that was, no doubt, thanks to his father. She had been no role model, though had tried to redeem herself in the last fifteen years. It had taken time, patience, effort — but it was all worth it in the end.

At times she wondered what it would’ve been like if she’d never left that day, but she wasn’t one to dwell in the past. What mattered to her was that Evan had been raised the right way, and she knew Cyrus was more than capable of doing so. Perhaps that had made her choice of leaving easier back then. Speaking of the man in question, Giorgia just spotted him as she made her way inside Rosie’s diner. Walking over to the table he’d picked for them, she quickly greeted him with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hi — sorry! Hope you haven’t been waiting for too long.” Giorgia took off her coat and sat down opposite of Cyrus, corners of her lips tugging up at the sight of him. “How have you been?” It was only then that the waiter came over with two cups of coffee — one flat white, which she assumed was for her. Looking back up at him, she couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “You really remembered my coffee order? That’s nice. Thank you, for ordering.”

→ at YIRRU GA ART GALLERY with @giorgiapalvetti

Was Mei taking a leaf out of Rafe’s books? Almost definitely. He had certainly been the type to buy jewellery for his ex wives whenever things got too unstable, and now here was Mei, attempting to steady the waters with a gift to prove her love to James. It felt somewhat hollow, and she knew in her heart that she did actually have to tell James the truth, but she was trying to buy herself as much time ( and brownie points ) as she actually could. She’d called in advance to set up the appointment with Giorgia, laying out what was needed, but Mei was not an artistic woman. She couldn’t just look at a piece and simply say it was good or bad. And, the last thing she wanted to do was buy a piece to hang in their home that wouldn’t be liked by anyone. Stepping into the clean gallery she was momentarily blinded by the white walls and allowed her eyes to adjust for a few seconds before she began to walk through, spotting the woman she was looking for with a professional smile. “Giorgia?” she clarified, coming to a stop with her hand outstretched towards the other woman. “Mei Watson. We spoke on the phone earlier?”

...

People were walking in and out of the gallery like most days, which was why this appointment felt like a little bit of a breath of fresh air to Giorgia. There was nothing wrong with people coming to look at their pieces, but some days she just longed for a good conversation with a client. Though the winter months, especially after Christmas, were always the most quiet. As the bell above the door rang, indicating that someone had entered the gallery, Giorgia quickly turned around to be met with a gorgeous face. Mirroring the smile on her face, she had anticipated her name rolling off her tongue. “Hi Mei, welcome to Yirru Ga!” Giorgia gladly shook the hand that was offered by Mei as she spoke. “Thanks for calling in advance, by the way. It’s so nice to meet you. Can I offer you anything to drink before we start looking at the pieces? Coffee, tea — wine?” It was really just the usual, giving Giorgia time to gauge the client she was dealing with and roll into the conversation.

To be honest, Manon had been looking for an excuse to get out of the house. With Arden spending the weekend with her father and the third anniversary of their son’s death coming around the corner, the Humboldt Hill home was starting to feel a bit too large for the psychiatrist, a bit too lonely. Thus, when Giorgia texted her, it almost felt like a godsent. 

“You know, I really hate when you lead with that,” Manon rolled her eyes, unable to help the small smile that fell on her lips as she followed the brunette to where the wine was stored – an area of Giorgia’s home that she’d explored many times over. At Giorgia’s admission, then, she let out a laugh, a sound that was almost foreign on the woman’s lips given her stoic nature. “To me that just sounds like either you’re going to need to throw plenty of dinner parties, or you’re prepared for the ‘Great Wine Drought of 2022’.” Manon teased lightly, assisting the woman by grabbing two glasses from the correct cabinet. “You know me, reds are practically all I drink in winter.” She placed them down on the counter so that Giorgia could start pouring. “Don’t be afraid to be generous – Arden is with her father and I’m absolutely not planning on driving home tonight, in case I didn’t mention it earlier.”

...

"You know what, you’re right — thanks for making this, or me, sound less crazy,” Giorgia spoke, words followed by a hearty laugh. Throwing a couple of dinner parties didn’t sound half as bad. Especially with this kind of wine involved. “Besides, you’ll be the only one to know where to find the best wine if we do get a wine drought,” she further added, lips stretching out into a smile. It wasn’t like the wine was gonna rot away, quite the contrary — it was going to be put to good use. It was just a little bit of an expensive mistake.

“See, this is why I keep you around,” Giorgia joked as she poured the red liquid in the two glasses. At Manon’s next set of words, the smile on her face only further stretched out and doing exactly as her friend said as she kept on pouring. “Oh, that’s like music to my ears. You’re welcome to stay over anytime you like, you know that.” Where others went to the spa or whatever to relax, this was Giorgia’s way of relaxing and recharging. Wine, good company and just endless conversations. Once both glasses were full enough for the first round, she held one up for Manon to grab, and picked up the other one for herself. “To lots of wine and a kid-free night. Cheers,” Giorgia offered, raising her glass to clink against Manon’s, before making their way back to the couch.