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“All right.” I swallowed hard and wondered where he would go with this.
“Tell me about your life now.”
That was not what I was expecting.
“Yes.” I shook off the unneeded stress. “I share an apartment with my best friend, Wyatt. He’s from the States.”
“What part?”
“New York.”
“Lovely place.” He nodded at me to keep going.
“He’s there right now. I was going to join him, but I’m here, so…” I trailed off and quickly realized that might have sounded bad. “It’s his sister’s wedding, and, well, that’s just pure entertainment if you knew the groom’s family.” I laughed as I thought about them.
“Tell me about Wyatt.”
I found my face stretching into a huge smile as I thought about my crazy friend.
“How much time do you have?” I chuckled. “We met when I was living on the streets. He helped me get a job, and later we moved in together. We are both journalists, work at the same company, share basically everything. One would think we’d be in constant competition chasing down stories and leads, but it was never like that. Instead, we work together and co-write a lot.” I smiled to myself. “He’s crazy, wild, fun, exciting. He’s really the polar opposite of me.”
“Seems to me you weren’t always tame, mybelle.” Elio made a dive motion with his hand as he arched an eyebrow, and I knew he was referring to the time I jumped off a thirty-foot bridge on a dare one summer.
“Things change.” I lowered my voice as the waiter returned with our food.
“Yes, they have.” He cleared his throat and thanked the waiter. “Do you enjoy your job?”
“I do. I can’t stand my boss, Georgio. Oh, don’t get me started on him.” I laughed. “I’ve met some interesting people, which has been fun, and I get opportunities like this.”
Elio took a moment to sip his wine and music suddenly started to flow from below us.
“I love this song.” I closed my eyes and listened to the sweet melody ofPrimavera,by Ludovico Einaudi. We ate in silence, listening to the music and enjoying each other’s company, not needing to make a lot of small talk. When dessert was served, I was almost too full to take another bite, and I was swept up in the music and the thousand twinkling lights below us.
“Do you really think Mariano is right for you?” He finally spoke, and I kept my gaze on the scenery, trying to place my true feelings.
“No,” passed softly over my lips.
“Then, what are you doing?”
Slowly, I swung my gaze over to him. “Living.” I felt my shoulders stiffen. “I’m trying to let myself live. I want to let go a little, have some fun for a change.”
“Have you kissed him?”
“It’s interesting to me that you think we’re dating.”
“It sure seems that way. I just wanted to know if when he kisses you, do you burn to kiss him back more deeply, or do you feel like you want to pull away because it doesn’t feel right?”
I had felt that with every man I’d ever dated since him.
“Because that’s how I feel when I kiss another woman.”
“Please stop.” I held on to the sides of the table as my gut churned in confusion.
Giuliano Sangiorgi’sE penso a teflowed up and surrounded us with his bleeding words. Elio stood, dropped his napkin on the table, and offered me his hand.
“I don’t dance.” I didn’t do romance that well either. I loved it, but I’d never allowed myself to feel truly intimate with anyone…but him.
“Yes, you do.” He pulled me into the middle of the patio. “Remember what I said.” He gave me a smile, referring to our childhood at his parents’ place. “Form to me, and I will do the rest. I promise.”
