Page 46 of Lorenzo

She seems friendly enough.

But where does she get off thinking this apartment belongs to her too?

“Gina, what a surprise.”

Her dog’s small black nose twitches. Then his ears change angles as if he’s curious to hear our conversation.

“Apologies if you think I’m intruding,” Gina says, flushing in embarrassment. “You probably think I’m barging into your apartment. Your space.”

I wait for her to say more.

“It’s just that since Dante’s gone most of the time, Ciro and I have become friends. He’s usually up in my apartment so I came down to see him. I should have checked with you first …”

Her voice drifts off.

“It’s okay.” I force myself to say.

At least Gina realizes she overstepped her bounds. “I see you have your cappuccino.”

“Oh, yes,” says Gina. “No one makes cappuccino quite as well as Ciro. He even ordered this special cup for me,” she says.

The cup she cradles is sleek, probably from some high end Milan shop. I see he’s made a near-perfect rosette in the foam.

Ciro smiles and makes a little bow.

“Happy to be of service. Would you like your usual black coffee, Miss Emily?”

“Thanks. Yes,” I say, moving toward the island.

The Frenchie lifts his blunt, wrinkled nose and sniffs in my direction before deciding I’m acceptable.

“Biscotti, right?” I say, scratching behind one of his bat-shaped ears. His whole back end wags with pleasure. “How did you get him?”

“Dante gave him to me as a present one morning, an early Christmas present,” she says, her eyes going a bit dreamy at the memory.

I nod and smile.

It’s hard for me to imagine Lorenzo surprising me with anything, let alone a dog. “Is Lorenzo much like Dante?”

“Lorenzo has too much charisma for his own good,” she finally says.

“You can say that again.”

We both laugh.

It’s true.

And not all that funny.

I can just see Lorenzo turning that charisma on the woman with the perfect purple penmanship. The one who dotted her “I” with a little heart.

“Ladies must love him,” I say, keeping my voice light as I fish for more gossip.

Gina wraps both hands around her mug.

“That’s for sure.”

Then her eyes find mine over the rim.