[Bianca]
I never liked grocery stores.
Too many eyes. Too many little reminders that I hadn’t lived a “normal” life in over five years. Still, there was something oddly nostalgic about being inside one again. That—and wine didn’t magically restock itself. Dante’s bar was off-limits since he’d seen how I got when I was drunk. And from his words, ‘he didn’t have the energy to babysit a drunkard.’
I almost rolled my eyes at the irony since I was babysitting a grown ass man.
Personally, I had a soft spot for red wine. The lighter kind. Stronger liquors and I didn’t exactly get along. So here I was—shades on, hoodie up, trying to act inconspicuous in the dimly lit liquor aisle.
I picked up a bottle of red. Italian. Seemed expensive enough and Dante’s card was mostly limitless. I gave the l
