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“It?”
“Passion. Real, deep emotion.
“It’s true,” he said when Louisa opened her mouth to argue. “Angelo and Marianna, they are like my parents. They feel things. Highs. Lows. Excitement. They thrive on it, even. But me... I don’t want highs and lows. I want calm. I want...”
“Consistency,” Louisa supplied. Certainty. To know when he walked through the door that his world hadn’t been turned upside down. She had the sudden flash that Nico had been as trapped by his parents’ chaos as she had been by Steven’s control.
“Consistency is one way of putting it, I suppose. Much better than saying I lack depth.”
“Is that what Floriana said? She was wrong.”
“Was she?”
“Just because you don’t throw plates like your parents doesn’t mean you’re not capable of passion.” It killed her to hear him beat himself up so needlessly. Couldn’t he see how impossibly wrong he was about himself? She’d witnessed his passion plenty of times. In the vineyards when he talked about Carlos. When he talked of Monte Calanetti’s traditions.
When he’d kissed her. She’d never felt such passion before.
Nico stared at his hands as if they held the argument he needed. “Then why didn’t I feel anything today?” he asked. “The three of you—Marianna, Ryan, you—you couldn’t stop oohing and aahing at Baby Rosa. Meanwhile, the only thing going through my mind was that she looked...small.”
“What did you expect to think? She’s three days old. It’s not like she’s going to be filled with personality.”
“But everyone else...”
Okay, now she wanted to shake him and make him see sense. For a smart man, he was being incredibly stupid. “Marianna and Ryan are her parents. If she wrinkles her nose they think it’s a sign of genius.”
“And you...”
“I’m a woman. I’m programmed to think babies are adorable. You, on the other hand, are a guy. Until babies actually do something, you don’t see the point.
“Look,” she said. Grasping his face between her hands, she forced him to look her in the eye to make sure he heard what she was saying. “Just because a person seems perfect doesn’t mean they are. Believe me, I know. You’re going to make a wonderful godfather. The very fact you’re worrying about doing a good job shows how much you care.
“Besides,” she added, “I refuse to do this godmother thing without a good partner. Last time I looked, we made a pretty good team.”
The worry faded from around his eyes. Giving her a grateful smile, Nico rested his forehead against hers. His hands came up to cup her face. “Thank you, bella mia,” he said, the whisper caressing her lips. Louisa closed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her.
They sat entwined like that for several minutes, neither in a rush to break the moment. As far as she was concerned, she could sit there all afternoon. She didn’t even care if there were paparazzi watching.
CHAPTER TEN
THE NEXT DAY, a cold front invaded the valley and everyone feared the harvest festival would be threatened by rain. “The tourists will still come,” Nico had said as they gathered to finish the float. “We’ve never failed to attract a crowd, rain or shine.”
“But sun brings a better crowd,” Marianna had been quick to point out, “and this is the one year when we can count on the crowd being especially large.”
Turned out Nico’s sister needn’t have worried. The morning of the festival, Louisa woke to see the sun brightening a cloudless blue sky.
“Luck is on our side,” Nico had remarked over coffee before adding, “Perfect day for playing festival queen.”
“Nice try,” she’d answered, “but no.” With the headlines diminishing daily, why court trouble?
Nevertheless, she agreed to accompany him to the parade’s staging ground to give their float a proper send-off. While he was in the shower, she snuck over to the palazzo and got out a tiered skirt and peasant blouse from her closet. A peace offering. She might not be queen, but she could dress in the spirit of the occasion.
The thought didn’t occur to her until she was ducking through the archway leading to Nico’s villa, that if she was comfortable enough crossing the fields alone, she could move back home.
Tomorrow.
For so many years her thoughts had revolved around escaping—escaping Steven, escaping Boston, escaping the paparazzi—and suddenly here she was focused on staying.
Something had shifted between her and Nico that day at the fountain. There was a depth to their friendship she hadn’t felt before. An openness brought about by shared fears. Whereas before there had been attraction, she felt pulled by an attraction of a different sort. Didn’t make sense, she knew. But there it was.
