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She gets up from the bed and places her hands on my shoulders.

“Nora, it’s time to live your own love story.” Her voice softens. “Do you like him? Because if you don’t, I’ll go downstairs right now and make up an excuse.”

“I really like him,” I confess quietly.

Chiara’s entire face lights up.

“Then go on this date, because that boy?” She points dramatically toward the floor. “He has not taken his eyes off you once today. He’s completely smitten.”

I’m not sure I believe her.

“Trust me on this, little sis.” She pushes a purse into my hands. “This is a very good thing.”

I take a deep breath.

“I can do this.”

“You look beautiful, Nora.”

I smile softly and hug her. “Thank you.”

“Thank me later by telling me every single detail.” She winks.

I laugh nervously and nod before walking downstairs.

The second I hear my father laugh loudly, my stomach twists again.

I reach the last step and freeze.

Damiano is standing in the middle of our living room wearing a plain white T-shirt and dark jeans like he walked straight out of one of my books.

And somehow, he’s even more handsome than he was at school.

That crooked smirk appears the second he sees me.

“Nora,” my father says proudly, “you didn’t tell me your date was Italian. And our new neighbor!”

Papà claps Damiano on the shoulder enthusiastically before his smile suddenly disappears.

“Just so you know,” he says seriously, “I own a gun and know how to make a body disappear.”

“Oh my God,” I mumble, mortified.

Damiano doesn’t even look nervous.

He simply nods once. “I’ll take good care of her, sir.”

My father studies him for a second.

Then his grin returns instantly.

“Ah, tesoro mio, come here and give your father a hug.”

I walk over laughing softly and wrap my arms around him.

To my horror, his eyes look suspiciously shiny.

“Papà,” I whisper, “it’s just a date.”