Nina laughed. “Il vostro negozio di fiori è assolutamente splendido.89”
“Thank you, dear,” Aunt Rosa said, clearly pleased. “I’ve put a lot of love into this place.”
We spent some time chatting among the fragrant flowers, Aunt Rosa showing Nina around. Her passion for flowers was evident in every arrangement, and Nina seemed enchanted.
“Peonies are my favorite,” Nina said, gazing at a particularly beautiful arrangement.
“That explains a lot,” Aunt Rosa teased. “A couple hundred bouquets over the years, to be exact.”
I smiled shyly while Nina blushed.
“You are something else,” Nina whispered.
“He tries his best to be,” Aunt Rosa replied with a wink.
“They’re one of our most popular flowers,” she continued, “symbolizing romance and prosperity.”
I watched them bond over their shared love of flowers, a warm sense of contentment settling in. After a while, we left for lunch at a cozy café nearby, with a view of a small square. The smell of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee filled the air.
Aunt Rosa shared amusing stories, like the time Lucio and I tried to surprise her by planting a garden, only to present her with a bouquet of weeds.
“You should visit more often, Ronan,” she said, affectionately. “You’re always so busy.”
“I will,” I promised, though I knew she’d see through it. “When I’m less busy.”
“You’llneverbe less busy,” she replied, smiling knowingly. “But I’ll hold you to that promise anyway.”
Our conversation shifted to my parents, and Aunt Rosa asked gently, “Have you visited their grave recently?”
I nodded. “Lucio and Marina went a little while ago. I went there the last time I was here.”
Aunt Rosa sighed, a mix of sadness and fondness in her expression. “I miss them every day. But it’s good to know you and Lucio are keeping their memory alive.”
“Always and forever,Zia,” I whispered.
She grabbed my hand, gazing at me softly. “Always and forever,figlio.”
Nina smiled at me, offering her quiet support as my aunt shared more memories of my parents. She talked about how they would bring her fresh flowers from their garden, a tradition she held dear.
As lunch ended, we returned to the flower shop. Aunt Rosa hugged us both tightly. “Take care, both of you. You’re always welcome here.”
“Thank you, Aunt Rosa,” I said, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. “We’ll see you again soon.”
We headed back to Florence as the evening sun bathed the city in gold. Nina’s presence made everything feel lighter, more right, and for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to hope.
The drive was peaceful, punctuated by comfortable silences and small, meandering conversations about the day. Rolling hills and quiet streets softened the weight I carried in my chest.
Before taking her home, I treated her to dinner at a cozy trattoria. The smell of fresh pasta and wood-fired pizza filled the air, the candlelight casting a warm glow over our corner table.
“You have a way of making even the simplest meals special,” Nina said, her eyes reflecting the flickering light.
“It’s not the meal,” I replied, squeezing her hand, “it’s the company.”
After dinner, we wandered through Florence’s quiet streets. When we reached her door, I walked her to it, the street lamp spilling soft light over us.
“Thank you for today,” Nina said, her voice gentle, almost shy.
“I should be thanking you,” I murmured, holding her hands. “You made everything easier just by being here.”
