Some people go to Tuscany to find themselves.

I went to escape—New York, my ex’s new relationship, and a career that derailed the moment I was passed over for partner.

My plan was simple: settle my eccentric Italian grandmother’s estate, sell whatever wasn’t nailed down, and return to the life I’d worked too hard to lose.

Instead, I walked into a mess—a crumbling antique shop, two hundred acres of leased vineyard land, and one infuriating clause in the will: Live and work in the shop for three months, or inherit nothing.

Then there’s the neighbor I clash with instantly. Matteo Lucchese is the infuriatingly handsome winemaker who leases my family’s land and refuses to be impressed by my credentials—or my attitude. He’s rugged and stubborn, stuck living in a time that has long passed us by, and the word rush isn’t part of his vocabulary. Basically, we’re exact opposites.

But as the days stretch into weeks, Tuscany chips away at the armor I didn’t realize I was wearing, and Matteo shows me the appeal of slowing down, of staying rooted, of wanting something other than climbing the corporate ladder.

I came to Tuscany to escape.

But now that the countdown to going home was on, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to leave. And the life I was falling for came with a looming expiration date.