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‘What do you mean?’
‘What I just said. He didn’t propose.’
I’d been flustered and nervy all night when I’d found the ring, with every conversation appearing to be a lead-up to ‘the big question’. But he hadn’t asked me over a candlelit dinner in Santa Croce, or when we’d strolled hand in hand across the Piazza San Marco afterwards. I’d constantly been on edge, my heart pounding with anticipation every time he’d paused to take a picture or point out something of interest. It had been excruciating.
‘Why not?’ asked Léo.
I watched Sylvie, who looked like she was berating someone on the other end of the line.
‘I don’t know.’
It was like he could see inside my head. Why hadn’t Si done it? And, more to the point, was he still planning to? Venice would have been the perfect place. The two of us, standing on the Rialto bridge (somehow there wouldn’t be a million other tourists doing the same thing), the churning waters of the Grand Canal below. The palazzos lining the shores painted in gorgeous shades of burnt peach and faded gold with forest green shutters. The pleasant aroma of fresh fish from the market mixed with sweet, fruity gelato. It occurred to me – and this was absolutely the worst-case scenario – that perhaps the ring hadn’t even been for me.
‘Anyway, enough about proposals,’ I said, casting about for a change of topic. ‘What were you doing in Venice?’
‘Not proposing to people?’
He threw his jacket over the handlebars of the bike when I gave him a dark look.
‘Why did you take the train, by the way?’ I asked. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but if you were in such a hurry, wouldn’t flying have been a more reliable option?’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘Yes what?’
‘Do I have to tell you?’
‘Absolutely.’
He sighed, his hair flopping over his forehead. ‘I am not a big fan of flying.’
‘You’re scared of it, you mean?’ I said, ecstatic to have found something else to wind him up about. ‘Who’s scared of dying, now?’
He swept his hair back, looking faintly embarrassed. ‘You do not need to sound so happy about it, Hannah.’
‘So you do have feelings …’ I said, gleefully rubbing it in.
He tutted, pretending to fiddle with a dial on the bike.
‘Ok, carry on,’ I said. ‘Was your Venice trip something to do with work?’
‘No.’
I looked at him quizzically, using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, thinking longingly of my sunglasses, which I’d packed in my suitcase because I’d assumed I wouldn’t need them until we got to Amsterdam.
‘Can you elaborate?’
‘I went to visit my father,’ he said.
‘He’s Italian?’
He shook his head. ‘No, but my step-mother is. They just had a baby together, a boy.’
So his dad had remarried. ‘How do you feel about having a baby brother?’
He laughed. ‘It makes a nice change. I also have four sisters.’
‘Four?’ I said, laughing. It was nice to finally get some personal information out of him.
