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“What’s in the notes?” I ask, curious. “I thought you said you’d been here before.”
“I have, but…” She wrinkles her nose, looking for the right words. She does the nose thing when she’s thinking, I’ve noticed. I like it. “Every time you look at a work of art, you see something new, you know. Like…these artists, they put more than brushstrokes and chisels in their work, they put parts of themselves, and people are complicated. There’s always something new to discover.”
I nod, understanding. Not completely, but enough. I don’t mind being puzzled by the way her mind works. I don’t mind drifting, dazzled, after her. She makes another note and smiles at me, self-consciously, I think. Her lips bow like petals about to unfurl, and I want to kiss her. I want to snap my fingers and empty the room, the building, and make slow sweet love to her here, surrounded by the beautiful things she loves so much.
Get a grip, Tristan.
Time flies, and too soon, she glances at her watch and says the words I’ve been dreading since she agreed to spend the day with me.
“Time to head home.”
I look at my watch too, as if it can provide a counterargument. But it’s already evening. We’ve been together for hours and yet, I don’t want to let her go.
“Let me buy you dinner,” I offer. “You pick a place. I’m starving and I have no idea where to go, anyway.”
I see the hesitation on her face and realize it’s entirely possible she’s not as drawn to me as I am to her.
At the thought, something deflates inside me. If that’s the case…if she says no, then of course I won’t push her.
She opens her mouth to say something, then stops. Gray eyes consider me for what seems like forever. Then, as if capitulating to some inner persuasion, she sighs. “I know a restaurant near here.”
I can’t keep the relieved grin from my face. “So, let’s get dinner.”
She’s quiet as we walk back outside. The sun is still up, casting a deep golden glow as it sets to the west of the city.
“How long are you here for?” She asks suddenly.
The question takes me by surprise. Is she asking because she wants me gone, or because she wants me around for as long as possible?
I hope it’s the second.
“A week,” I tell her. “You?”
“Little less than a month.”
“Then you’ll go back to…”
“New York. I have one more semester at NYU.” She pauses. “You haven’t told me what you do.”
“Software engineer. I was…I mean…I was working at this company in Palo Alto and it…changed leadership.”
She studies me, eyes soft. “I’m sure you’ll find something else when you get back.”
I see in her face that she assumes I was laid off or something. Now, if I tell her it was my company and I sold it for a lot of money, she might think I’m bragging.
So, I don’t correct her.
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
She gives me an encouraging smile. “So…what’s a software engineer doing wandering around Florence alone?”
“I didn’t come alone,” I reply absently.
“Oh.” The smile freezes on her face and she looks down at the pattern of cobblestones on the sidewalk. Around us, people are talking and arguing. Tourists are heading back to their hotels. There’s a low hum of automobiles, bright yellow light from streetlights, and low music from inside the buildings.
“I mean…I came to Italy with my sister. She’s here for work. She’s a fashion designer, shopping for fabric in Milan.”
Cora gives me a quick look and I notice a faint flush on her cheeks. “Oh.”
