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“Oh, please. It is such a pleasure to watch an attractive young couple dance. And you were so obviously made to be in each other’s arms,” cried Signora Visconti.

“Come on, Diana. You’re so close to getting what you want,” Levi whispered in my ear, his breath on my ear making me shiver. I was so entranced that I no longer knew if he was talking about my meeting with Signore Visconti about the fellowship or about getting to dance with him again. That’s what happened when I was in his arms; I was completely and utterly overwhelmed by him.

“Do you still remember the steps?” Levi asked.

Did I remember them? Sometimes I still dreamed about them.

“I’m not dancing with you, Levi,” I warned.

“Ah, come on, we never got to do it for anyone.” That was true. Ashleigh had come barreling into his life before we could share it with my parents. He took my pinkies in his and drew me closer. “Can someone find ‘Cheek to Cheek’?”

“I can look for it!” cried Giulia, her fingers flying over her phone. Almost immediately, Fred Astaire’s voice filled the room.

Levi drew me closer. “Ready, Ginger?”

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I grumbled as he circled his arm around me, and then the muscle memory kicked in and I was back in Colorado, dancing in the rec room while Josh cheered us on. One of my mom’s flowy skirts over my bathing suit, stepping on Levi’s toes and doubled over laughing when we bumped noses.

But this time I was spinning around a Venetian palazzo and had an invitation to a career-changing event and Levi back in my life. And as much as I said I didn’t want to forgive him, I already had, hadn’t I? I could pretend to be Ginger Rogers spinning through the air, weightless, reliving the promise of that summer.

When the music stopped I was still swaying in Levi’s arms, my face tipped up to his. Our eyes locked, and I was lost in a sea of blue. I couldn’t look away and was only vaguely aware of our rapt audience.

“Ravissante! Un bacio.” Signora Visconti clapped her hands excitedly, surprising us both, and the look of that crossed Levi’s features was one of impending doom. Suddenly, I was no longer reliving that happy summer, but that awful moment when I’d asked—no begged—him to kiss me. Only now we were surrounded by a group of eager spectators.

I did what I do best in situations like these: I panicked. Standing on tiptoes, I gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. Levi had shaved and his skin was velvety soft. I wanted to rub my nose against the line of his jaw and bite it for good measure. Instead, I gave him a pat on the arm and stepped away.

“Non è un bacio. Di nuovo con sentimento!” cried Signora Visconti indignantly.

“Un bacio!” cried Giulia’s friends.

My head pounding with their incessant chanting, I turned to flee but Levi held me firmly in place. When I met his eyes again, the doomed expression was gone, replaced by amusement. The bastard! He was enjoying this, but then he’d always liked teasing me. Like an older brother, the voice in my head reminded me.

But then he closed his eyes and bent his head toward mine. Oh my god, he was going to kiss me! I should have closed my eyes, but I seemed to have lost all motor functions. Like a deer caught in headlights, I remained stiff and motionless hypnotized by the slow descent of his lips to mine. His hands cupped my face, and somewhere in the still functioning part of my brain, I registered how soft his lips were. Mine on the other hand, had somehow disappeared into my gums. I was all teeth, an emotionless dam of enamel.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this! the voice inside my head was screaming now.

Levi pulled back and stared down at me, perplexed, a deep crease between his eyebrows and all I could do was bare my teeth at him. A murmur of disappointment went up around us, and when I finally stepped away, my eyes fell on Helen Harris’s stunned face.

“Well, at least you have the weekend to practice,” laughed Signora Visconti, spinning the gramophone to life and holding out her hand to Levi. “Let’s dance, shall we?”

Chapter 14

Levi

That kiss was . . . well, it was awful. There was no other way to describe it.

It haunted me even as I continued the lesson, twirling Signora Visconti around the dance floor. Even as I accompanied Indy back to the train station, promising her that if she really didn’t want me to come to the weekend with her, I’d figure a last-minute way to get out of it—the kiss lingered.

Even now almost twenty-four hours later, it had stripped me bare—made me question everything I was doing. Why, when I knew I was a danger to her and with October 21 barreling down on us, had I forced myself back into Indy’s life? And, dear god, why had I kissed her?

If I went back to that moment—which I had dozens of times in the past twenty-four hours—it was like being in a tunnel, everything around me blurred. I no longer saw the gilded mirrors, the marble floors, our eager spectators. There was only the echo of Fred Astaire in my head and Indy’s face and the emotions that danced across it: joy, embarrassment, and adorable confusion.

And then a memory had superimposed itself on the present moment and we were next to my car, under the stars, muffled music filtering out to the parking lot from the gymnasium. There were tears on her face and she was asking me to kiss her. I hadn’t kissed her then, but I could now. It was only a kiss, right? I was lost in her soft breath of anticipation, my eyes riveted to her parted lips.

The next thing I knew my mouth was on hers. I’d wondered what it would feel like to kiss Indy before. She had such soft, plump lips it was hard not to imagine how they tasted. And the way she threw herself so wholeheartedly into everything she did, I’d imagined she’d be a passionate kisser. But it was like kissing a wall. There was no one there. Then the world had come flooding back, and I snapped out of whatever trance I was in and jolted back to the reality of it—our gaping audience, the cold room, the awkward silence. But the worst was the look in Diana’s eyes. I’m pretty sure there were tears in them, not of sadness but of shock.

I never should have done it. She didn’t want that kiss, and truthfully, neither did I. It could never make up for the past and I couldn’t mess with her future.

Yes, being with Indy again was healing, but it terrified the hell out of me. For years—since my mom had passed away—there was a kind of churning black hole inside me that I couldn’t acknowledge. It was like I’d swallowed that bad star I’d been born under and turned ravenous, dark matter inside me. It had gotten larger with Josh’s death. I had a feeling it was infinite, bigger than the universe, and if I looked down it would swallow me whole. I couldn’t drag Indy down there with me.