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What the...? Nowhere in the forecast had there been any prediction of rain, let alone the downpour they currently found themselves in.
The shrieks of fellow visitors filled the air around them as they ran to find shelter. Maya was reacting differently, though—she was laughing hysterically, in a manner the Americans would call “cracking up.”
“What exactly is so funny?” he asked with an answering smile of his own, once they’d run off their perch and reached the large umbrella of a flower vendor nearby.
“Oh, I’m just wondering why it is that the fates have decreed that I need to get soaked to the skin every couple of days in Venice. And that you’re certain to be around to witness the spectacle for some reason.”
He returned her laughter with a chuckle of his own. “You know, the very thought had just occurred to me, as well.”
“Scusa, flowers for the beautiful young lady?” the vendor was asking.
Vito didn’t hesitate. He motioned to a wrapped bouquet of budding pink roses. A purchase was the least he could do; they were taking advantage of the man’s shelter, after all.
Something told him he might have bought Maya flowers in any case.
Maya didn’t say anything as he handed them to her. But her cheeks flushed a shade of pink not unlike the roses she currently sniffed.
“They’re beautiful. Thanks, Vito,” she said with a pleased smile, ducking her head shyly.
He hadn’t forgotten the last time he’d bought flowers for a woman. How could he?
That particular flower purchase hadn’t been quite as pleasant as this one. The day seemed a lifetime ago. But he replayed it clearly in his mind. He and Marina had had yet another heated exchange in a long line of chaotic and dramatic arguments—like so many that had plagued their marriage toward the end. Marina had snatched the bouquet out of his hands and thrown it in the bin.
Her voice, shaking with anger and disgust, resonated in his brain. Do you think such a futile gesture would make up for the way you’ve been ignoring me for all these weeks?
Vito pushed the memories away. What good was it to dwell on them now? He’d have plenty of time later, when he was alone. When he was sitting at his round wooden table in the apartment he occupied above the art studio, staring off into space and contemplating all the ways things had gone so horribly wrong in his life.
His gaze fell to where Maya stood admiring her roses. Her thick curls had escaped the sensible ponytail she’d shown up with this morning. Her eyes were bright, sparkling with merriment. Perhaps it was the artist in him but Vito could swear there was a visible aura around her. An aura full of light and laughter. He had to acknowledge that she’d brought both light and laughter back into his existence these past few days. A lightheartedness he didn’t think he’d experience again.
Too bad it was all so temporary.
“I guess I should make my way back to the hotel,” Maya said, interrupting his thoughts.
He couldn’t let her walk or take a boat, as soaked as she was. “My studio is much closer, cara. Let’s go get you dried off. Once again.”
He didn’t give her a chance to argue. He simply took advantage of the lull in the rain to take her by the hand and lead her back to his place.
* * *
“I’m having a profound sense of déjà vu.” Maya wiped the wetness from her face after they arrived back at Vito’s studio. “Only this time I’m much more sober.”
So why did she feel so light-headed? Slightly dizzy? The afternoon had grown considerably darker. Shadows fell over Vito’s features, the overall effect lending his face a mysterious, brooding quality that sent a small tremor down her back.
Vito handed her a large rag that he pulled out of a wooden cabinet against the wall. Maya took it gratefully and started to dry off.
“I can offer you refreshment of a more warming variety, if you’re interested. You look like you might be chilled,” he added with a playful wink.
She motioned to her wet clothes and did a little mini swirl. “You think so, huh?”
He shrugged. “Just a guess.”
“I’m definitely interested in anything that may warm me up. What did you have in mind?”
