The Florence Affair

by Kristy Tate

Flora studied Zane. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you spending so much time with us? Don’t you have work?”

  “I’m having fun. Aren’t you?”

  “Zane—” Flora began.

  Zane stopped her by putting his finger on her lips. “I’m trying to figure you out.”

  She stepped away from him. “I’m not very complex.”

  “And those are the most dangerous sort of puzzles,” Zane said. “The ones that look simple but are, in reality, very complicated.”

  “Ms. Hill!” Rose called. “Come and look. Marco knows all sorts of artisans.”

  Flora dragged her feet. “I don’t know if your mom and dad will want to pay for this.”

  “It’s on me,” Zane said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  But Flora did worry. She bit her nail, debating.

  Zane slung his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

  She shrugged away from him.

  I’m afraid of you, she thought. You broke me once. I can’t let it happen again.

  “NOW WHAT?” ROSE ASKED as soon as they left the museum.

  They stood on the busy sidewalk while a tide of tourists, families, dog-walkers, and businesspeople flowed around them. The early afternoon sun and Flora’s company warmed Zane. All he wanted was to be with her. Of course, what he actually wanted was to get her alone and pepper her with questions—and maybe kisses—but he could be patient and bide his time. Besides, he found the girls amusing.

  “Well,” Zane said. “We can either go to the Ponte Vecchio or to a vineyard just outside of town.”

  “Maybe Zane doesn’t want to spend the day with us,” Flora suggested.

  “Of course I do,” Zane said. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

  “I wish Mom and Daddy had all the free time you have,” Rose said.

  “I bet they wish that, too,” Flora said. “But remember, this trip isn’t a vacation for them. They’re here because the Italian Institute of Human Sciences is paying for them to be here. You’ll have a proper family vacation as soon as the semester ends.”

  “So, what is it?” Zane asked, steering the conversation away from families. That was dangerous territory. The only person he’d ever considered creating a family with had been Flora, and he couldn’t think about that. Especially not when she stood beside him.

  “What is what?” Flora asked in a tight voice, making him wonder if she was thinking the same thing he was.

  “Vineyard or bridge?” Zane asked.

  “Bridge,” Rose said at the same time Posey said, “Vineyard.”

  Zane lifted a quizzical eyebrow at Flora.

  She sighed. “I say bridge first, then vineyard, although I don’t think it’ll be very much fun for the girls.”

  Flora read from her guidebook. “Ponte Vecchio is an extremely famous and old bridge.

  “Spanning the river Arno, the Vecchio Bridge is noted for the number of shops that are built into the sides of the bridge, its decorated history and the plethora of shops that line the main walkway.

  “History records date the bridge as early as 996 but its true origin is unclear.

  “Walk onto this fantastic structure and look at the various shops and vendors – You will find jewelers, art dealers and souvenir shops.

  “Once at the midpoint, the bridge opens up and you are rewarded with fantastic views down the river Arno.

  “Aside from walking on the bridge itself, also walk along the Corridoio Vasariano to see the exterior of the Ponte Vecchio and its marvelous house-like attachments.”

  While the girls browsed the shops, Zane studied Flora.

  “What are we going to do tomorrow?” Rose asked.

  “I’m so glad you asked,” Zane said. “Is anyone here a Twilight fan?”

  Rose squealed and her hands fluttered midair. “You want to go to Volterra, don’t you?” She grabbed Posey’s hands and began to jump up and down. “He wants to take us to Volterra.”

  Posey tried her best to bounce, but clearly struggled on only one foot.

  “How did you know?” Flora asked.

  “I have girl cousins,” he replied, grinning.

  “You’ll have to remind me of the importance of Volterra,” Flora told the girls.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel so I can get my book!” Rose took off, sprinting down the sidewalk, dodging a mom pushing a baby in a stroller and a gray-haired woman walking a poodle.

  “Wait!” Flora called, trying not to laugh.

  Posey shuffled along beside them, visibly disappointed she couldn’t follow her sister.

  Flora squinted after Rose’s disappearing backside. “It’s just a few blocks. I don’t think she’ll get lost.”

  “She carries the Twilight series with her?” Zane asked, his lips twitching.

  “She brought New Moon with her because she wanted to go to Volterra. Daddy and Mom told her they wouldn’t indulge her obsession.” Posey made air quotes around the word indulge. “They disapprove of books that glorify the dominance of men over women.”

  “Hmm, what do you think about that, Flora?” Zane slid her a glance from under his thick, dark lashes.

  “You don’t want to know,” she said in a hard voice.

  “I want to know everything that’s going on in that pretty little head of yours,” Zane said.

  Posey made a face. “It’s things like that that would make Mom shut you down.”

  Flora quirked an eyebrow at Zane. “Hear that? If you were a book, Liz Jardin would close you.”

  “Good thing I’m not interested in Liz Jardin,” Zane said equably.

  His steady gaze sent a tingle down Flora’s spine, making her mind go blank. She cast about for a change of subject. “How do you propose we get to Volterra?”

  “I rented a car. It should be waiting for us back at the hotel.”

  “Can I ride up front?” Posey asked. “Because of my motion sickness?”

  “Of course,” Flora said.

  Zane bit his lip, looking as if he wanted to argue, but decided against it.

  “So, tell me about Volterra,” Flora said to Posey.

  “According to the internet,” Posey answered as she read from her phone, “Venture off the beaten track to visit the beautiful and historic town. Marvel at the ancient wall surrounding Volterra and learn of its mystic folklore and vampire legends. Avid followers of the Twilight saga will not want to miss a visit to this traditional Tuscan town.”

  “I bet you’ll love it,” Zane told Flora, “and if you don’t, you’re sure to love the restaurant I’ve booked for dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Flora echoed, feeling hollow.

  Back at the hotel, Flora found a sleek silver convertible Mercedes parked at the curb. A cluster of bellboys and parking valets were gathered around it, the drool practically dripping from their lips.

  “You have to take a picture of this car for your sister!” Rose said.

  Flora nodded and once again, Zane came to stand beside her for the photo.

  THE NEXT MORNING, THE sun made the air sparkly clear and the girls beamed with excitement. The windy car ride out of the city and into the mountains made conversation difficult, which gave Flora plenty of opportunity to stare at the back of Zane’s head and wonder what was going on inside that pretty little thing.

  The girls seemed incredibly smitten with him, and she wanted to warn them against not only him, but all men of his ilk. She wished that someone had warned her when she was their age. But was it her place? Liz was a great role model—as was Jerry. Together, they were a great example of a loving and supportive marriage.

  Spending these past few months with them had opened Flora’s eyes to what a healthy relationship looked like—something that she aspired to yet had never been in close contact with before. And she guessed that Zane was almost as clueless as she was.

  Not that she cared about Zane. She couldn�
�t ever put his name and the word ‘relationship’ in the same sentence again. In fact, just being in the same car with him was walking a line she had vowed to never cross a second time.

  As the car roared up the mountains, he caught her gaze in the rearview mirror. She turned to focus on the countryside, with its lush rolling hills. It reminded her of California, which reminded her of Zane, and why all those years ago she’d been forced out of her home, ousted from her life, separated from her mom...which was just as well, but still...

  Zane pulled the car right in front of a cathedral at the top of the hill. “I’ll drop you guys off before I park.” He motioned to Posey and her crutches. “It’ll be easier.”

  “Thank you!” Posey cried, scrambling to get out and balance herself on her crutches. Flora tried to tame her curls. Zane’s thick hair looked perfect, despite the wild ride.

  Which was another reason to hate him.

  The air was thinner up here, and the sun more direct. The entire city seemed made of sunbaked stone.

  “He’s so into you,” Rose said with a lovesick sigh after Zane had zoomed away in the Mercedes.

  “No, he’s not,” Flora said.

  Posey snorted.

  “You guys don’t know,” Flora said, then she caught herself. Although she trusted the girls, she knew she had to be careful. The last thing she wanted was for her words to show up in some tabloid. She couldn’t afford to slander Zane, no matter how much he may deserve it.

  “Don’t know what?” Posey asked.

  “We have a history,” Flora said. “Surprise, it didn’t end happily. Come on, let’s go and find some shade.” Her sandals slapped against the ancient road leading to the Piazza dei Priori.

  “Why not?” Rose asked, catching up to her.

  Posey and her crutches clattered after them.

  “Well, he’s him and I’m just me,” Flora said. “He can, and does, date anyone—models, royalty, Nobel Prize winners.” She shrugged as if all this stiff competition couldn’t hurt her.

  “That’s a bogus answer,” Posey said. “What really happened?”

  They passed under an arch and entered an enormous plaza.

  “Look, there it is!” Rose squealed, pointing to a medieval three-story building rising from the plaza. “This is where Edward was going to sacrifice himself to the Volturi.”

  “You know New Moon wasn’t filmed here, right?” Posey asked.

  “Yes, but Stephenie Meyer came here in 2006, and—” She froze as if an idea had struck her mute. After a moment, she said in a reverent tone, “It’s possible that Ms. Meyer stood in this very spot.”

  “Maybe she stood in the shade?” Flora suggested, feeling warm.

  “You stand on this side,” Rose directed, “and I’m going stand way over there because that’s how it was for Edward.”

  “Let’s do a re-enactment.” Posey suggested, waving her hands in the air. “Get me the book.”

  Rose pulled the tome out of her bag. “Because I brought it, I get to be Bella.”

  “Then I’ll be Edward,” Posey said.

  Rose gave Flora a hard look. “You have to be the Volturi.”

  Posey balanced on her good leg and pointed across the square. “You have to stand over there and look villainous.”

  “That should be easy for you,” Zane said in her ear.

  Her heart jumped and his breath tingled on the back of her neck. She pretended he hadn’t surprised or hurt her.

  “You, too,” Rose directed Zane.

  Knowing Zane was following her, Flora crossed the plaza without looking at him or speaking to him.

  “What are we doing?” Zane asked.

  “We’re re-enacting the scene in New Moon where Edward exposes himself to the Volturi.” Flora hated the way her skin prickled and her blood warmed whenever he was close.

  “Hmm, glad I’m not playing Edward,” Zane said. “I could get arrested. Will Posey get arrested?”

  “She’s keeping her clothes on...at least, I assume she is.”

  “Maybe you need to define ‘exposing himself’ to me.”

  She didn’t want to smile, but she did. “In New Moon, Edward believes that Bella has killed herself. Since he doesn’t want to live without her, he decides to end his life as well.”

  “Sounds very Romeo and Juliet,” Zane commented. “But what does that have to do with exposing yourself?”

  “Edward is a vampire, and offing yourself as a vampire isn’t as easy as it is for ordinary mortals. You have to be chopped into pieces and burned.”

  “What about the silver stake through the heart?”

  “It’s a wooden stake. Silver bullets are for werewolves,” Flora said. “I’m not sure Ms. Meyer knew about that.”

  “You still didn’t explain why he had to expose himself.”

  “He kept his clothes on, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “That is what I was wondering, so thank you, but please explain.”

  “In the Twilight books, vampires sparkle like diamonds when exposed to sunlight.”

  She didn’t mention how vampires also shared other similarities to diamonds—they had rock-hard bodies, including lips, and were cold to the touch. Even as a teen, Flora had known that cold and hard weren’t sexually attractive. She wanted someone warm with soft lips and...she shut down her memories of that long-ago summer that had been filled with Zane.

  “Sounds very inconvenient,” Zane said.

  “That’s why they live in the Pacific Northwest, where’s it’s usually gloomy.”

  “Do you see many vampires in Washington?” he asked.

  “Who’s to say?”

  “I’m sorry. I made you deviate.”

  Yes, you did, she thought, but she said, “Vampires depend on others not knowing their true nature.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It’s just like lions. People may be fascinated by them. We may like to look at them and listen to them roar, but no one wants to risk living next door to one.” She pulled out her phone. “Here, take a picture of me.”

  “I’ll only take one if I get to be in it,” Zane said.

  “But I’m chronicling my trip for Sicily. She’s really jealous I’m here and she’s there. What is she going to think if you show up in my pictures?”

  “You’ll have to tell her about me.”

  “What about you?”

  “That’s up to you. I can’t do everything. After all, I’m already taking the photo.”

  She frowned, but then relented and handed him the phone.

  Once they reached the other side of the square, Flora turned and waved at Rose and Posey. They seemed very far away and she doubted that the Volturi would have been able to see Edward’s sparkles from such a distance.

  Just one more piece of evidence that love is a lie.

  “You can’t wave,” Zane said. “You’re supposed to be imposing.”

  Together they watched Posey, acting as Edward, lift her arms and face to the sun.

  Rose, pretending to be Bella, sprinted to the center of the plaza, crying, “No. Edward, stop.”

  Several people stopped to watch Rose dash across the square and throw herself into her sister’s arms.

  Zane applauded them and called out, “Brava.”

  Rose and Posey both bowed.

  “This is a tragic story,” Zane said.

  “It is, but not for the reasons you might think,” Flora said.

  They both headed over to meet Posey and Rose.

  Rose read aloud from the book about Belle’s racing heart, hot pulsing blood, and a longing for touch.

  The words, so closely echoing Flora’s hidden desire, caused a craving so painful, she froze, wishing that once and for all, she could be free from Zane and all the angst he conjured inside her. It was easier to ignore the tender memories when he wasn’t standing beside her.

  “So, you weren’t a teenage Twi-head?” Zane asked.

  “Of course I was,” Flora said. “Not as mu
ch as Sicily, of course.”

  “Why ‘of course’?” Zane pressed.

  “Sicily is much more of a romantic than me.” She shot him a venomous glance. “She hasn’t taken the knocks that disillusioned me, thank goodness.”

  Zane pressed his lips together. “How is she?”

  “Amazing,” Flora said, her voice involuntarily softening as she thought about her sister. “She recently graduated with her masters in accounting, passed the CPA, and took a great job with a big five accounting firm.”

  Zane chuckled. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “She’s remarkable. Most runaways...” She bit her lip, hating herself for letting that slip.

  “She ran away? When?” Zane pressed.

  But, fortunately, Rose and Posey caught up to them and interrupted their conversation.

  “What’s next?” Rose asked.

  “The leaning tower of pizza,” Posey said.

  “That’s Pisa,” Rose corrected with a sneer.

  “I know, but I like towering pizzas,” Posey said. “Is anyone else hungry?”

  “You don’t want to walk around?” Flora asked. “There are some amazing museums.”

  Posey answered by waving one of her crutches in the air.

  “Pisa isn’t super far,” Zane said. “And I thought after that, we could go to the beach.”

  This announcement was met with a round of approval from the girls. But memories of being at the beach with Zane practically undid Flora.

  “Did Edward and Bella ever go to the beach?” Zane asked.

  Rose wrinkled her nose. “Bella did, but it wasn’t a happy occasion. She tried to drown herself by jumping off a cliff into the Pacific Ocean.”

  “Plus, she was swimming with werewolves,” Posey added.

  Zane nodded as if this made perfect sense, as if every girl denied her lover would throw herself into the sea and try to swim with werewolves.

  Flora snorted. “We don’t have our swimsuits.”

  Zane looked sheepish. “I took the liberty of purchasing suits for you this morning.”

  “What?” Flora sputtered.

  “Where are they?” Rose asked.

  “In the trunk of the car.” He tossed her the keys. “I hope you like them.”

  When the girls scampered away—Rose at a full-tilt run and Posey clattering on her crutches—Flora said, “But you don’t know our sizes!”