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He actually couldn’t believe his luck. The restaurant overlooking Piazza San Marco and based in the Procuratie Nuove had had issues a few years ago when some of the stonework around the elaborate archways had started to crumble. Logan had been able to help them find the same stone, from the original source, to allow complete restoration. It hadn’t been an easy task. And right now he would take any advantage he could get.
They sat for a few minutes longer, watching the world go by on the Grand Canal, as she finished her wine.
He stood up and held out his hand towards her. ‘Are we ready?’
She nodded and slid her hand into his. The momentum of pulling her up made them almost bump noses and she laughed and put her hands on his chest. ‘Where did this dark suit come from? You surely didn’t have this in your bag?’
He shook his head. ‘I picked it up an hour ago when you were getting ready. I think you’ve seen enough of the cream jacket and trousers.’
Her eyes ran up and down his body. It was amazing how that tiny act could make his hairs stand on end and make him feel distinctly hot under the collar.
She gave an approving nod. ‘I like it,’ she said as she stepped away. ‘I like it even more that you didn’t bother with a tie.’ She spun towards him in her heels. ‘I never did like a man in a tie.’
His heart leapt in his chest. Her mood was lifting. She was definitely beginning to relax. He caught her elbow and spun her back towards him, resting his other hand on her hip.
He wanted this to be the start of something new. He wanted a chance to make things work with the only woman he’d ever really loved.
He knew they both had to move on. He knew they might not be able to move on together. And he knew at some point they had to talk about Ariella Rose.
But his heart was squeezing in his chest.
Tonight could be perfect. Tonight could just be about them. And somehow he knew that if he gave her the guarantee of no pressure, it could change everything.
‘What do you say that for tonight I promise you that I won’t mention Ariella Rose. We won’t talk about what happened. And we’ll only concentrate on the here and now. We’ll only concentrate on the good things.’
He slid his hand through her silky soft hair.
She’d outlined her eyes in black and put on some lipstick that matched her dress. Right now Lucia was every bit the Italian siren.
Tonight wasn’t about upsetting her. Tonight wasn’t about grieving.
Tonight was about reminding her how good things had been between them. Reminding her what it felt like to truly connect with a person—and hoping she might realise that some things were worth fighting for.
She blinked quickly, trying to lose the obvious sheen on her eyes. Her voice was shaky. ‘You promise?’
‘I promise.’ He didn’t hesitate. This was the only way. The only way to try and take the steps to move forward. He wouldn’t leave Venice without having that conversation with her but for tonight—just for tonight—he wanted to capture just a little of the old Lucia and Logan again.
She locked up the apartment and they headed downstairs. He gestured her towards the other entrance of the building, the one that looked out over the Grand Canal and had a private mooring dock.
She shook her head. ‘We never use that any more.’
He smiled as he pulled at the older doors. ‘Well, tonight we’re going to.’
* * *
Her stomach had been doing little flip-flops since early afternoon and didn’t seem to want to stop any time soon.
The dress he’d bought her was beautiful, elegant without being revealing and still managing to fit like a second skin. It might as well have been made especially for her.
When she’d put it on she’d felt a surge of confidence she hadn’t felt in years. And seeing Logan in his dark suit had almost toppled her off the edge where she was dangling. It was like recapturing a moment from twelve years ago, when they’d used to dress up regularly and go out eating and dancing together. Back when neither had had a care in the world and she’d had no idea what could lie ahead.
Logan’s green eyes were twinkling as he opened the door to the Grand Canal. Bobbing on the water was a sleek black gondola edged in red and gilt with its own private canopy.
Lucia sucked in a breath. ‘What on earth have you done?’ She knew exactly how much these cost to hire. Every night the Grand Canal was full of wide-eyed tourists bobbing around in these private hired gondolas. Most of the local Venetians laughed at them being taken advantage of. She’d never guessed Logan would fall into the trap.
