by Hearts at the Holy See [Passport to Romance] (retail) (epub)
Shaking his head, as if they’d had a long conversation and he still didn’t understand, Giovanni took her arm. “I think we might be—um—in the way?” He gestured at Casey and Leo. “Let’s go over here. Get ourselves a little lost. She can call you if she wants to connect again. Maybe for lunch. Or dinner.”
“Right.” Amalie followed him then pulled up short. Right now might be a great time to set out some parameters. “Giovanni.”
“Yeah?” He glanced over his shoulder, back at his cousin and Casey. And then she got it. He wasn’t looking to start a relationship with her. He’d already fallen for Casey and knew he couldn’t have her. Amalie’s heart clenched. Poor guy.
She pushed away the stark, raging jealousy that careened through her. She had no business feeling that way, especially when she’d just decided he couldn’t get anywhere with her anyway. Better to just feel sorry for him. She could cope with that. She took a deep breath. “You’re being a really good sport about this.”
That made him really look at her. “About what?”
“About all this.” With her hands, she tried to describe the situation, but what could a few gestures do that words could not? “About Casey. But you don’t have to stick around. I mean, this is your vacation, too, right? You can just go do whatever you’d planned and then—” She halted as he glowered at her. “What?”
“Are you trying to ditch me?”
She blinked. “No. If I was, I probably would do it without running off my mouth.”
His grin quirked and disappeared again. “Then why are you telling me to go somewhere else?”
“Um.” Did she tell him she’d guessed where his heart wanted to go? After knowing him less than twelve hours? She wouldn’t even tell her best friend something that personal, not without an invitation.
It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t pretend an interest in her, and he was a good sport. “That’s not it. I just figured you offered your services as a tour guide so you could be with her, and now she’s gone off with Leo, and you’ve got to have better things to do.”
Miserable, wilting under his raised-eyebrow stare, Amalie twisted her purse strap between her fingers.
“What could be better than this?” He held to her elbow. “Come, madam. I’ll show a beautiful woman around the Sistine Chapel, let her make as many notes as she wants, and then make sure she gets a good lunch before we head to the basilica.”
“The beautiful woman—” She gestured back toward the room where they’d left Casey and Leo.
“You. Not your cousin, although I would never try to argue that she’s not beautiful.”
She opened her mouth, fought back the tears, and closed it. Then, on a huge breath, she said, “You really are a good sport, you know that?”
He grinned. “For that, I’ll buy you as many postcards as you can carry.”
****
Postcards? For heaven’s sake, he’d offered postcards?
Not the way to conduct a romance. Giovanni’d had his share, and he’d never before gotten off to such a disastrous start.
This was why Armino had looked so thunderstruck when he’d talked about the quiet girl with the loud smile. Last night, Giovanni hadn’t gotten the full force of her charm. She’d wasted that on a waiter who didn’t speak a word of English. Instead, she’d sat beside him and nearly gone to sleep. Now her beauty exploded on Giovanni like fireworks, and his heart caught fire. For that smile, he’d do more than ply her with postcards. He’d have to think of something startling and breathtaking.
Here she thought he’d offered to go along with them because of Casey’s extraordinary beauty. Did Amalie think he was pining for Casey? He might have seen the humor if it hadn’t reflected so sadly on her. But he’d learned how outer beauty didn’t always equal inner, and what attracted him most about Amalie was the kindness that sparkled from her eyes and shone through her delight in their surroundings. The fact that she was beautiful was a bonus.
Sad that she only saw herself as second best and him as a good sport.
He followed Amalie through the chapel, waited while she made notes, and offered his back when it seemed she was having trouble balancing her tablet. He chuckled at her every wry comment, even though his bemused mind couldn’t grasp all of them. The ones he got were funny enough.
They ended up going to lunch at a place removed from his aunt and uncle’s. Zia Silvana had gotten herself pretty attached to Casey last night, and he didn’t want to risk a scolding. He could just imagine it. Zia Silvana would accuse him of cheating on Casey, give poor Amalie a fiery Italian cold shoulder, and generally ruin Giovanni’s life.
He’d wait, he thought, until both he and Leo could announce their intentions to the family.
He glanced across the table at Amalie, amazed at how both meals they had eaten together felt more like a date.
Better not let on to her about that delusion until everything else got itself fixed and tidied. Trying to be casual, he pointed to the menu board mounted over the counter. “Go ahead. Get whatever you want. My treat.”
She stared at him. “It’s in Italian.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I’ll translate.” He did, pausing between each item to let her consider. “You order your sandwich filling and the bread you want. Or would you rather have a salad or soup? Or all three, if you want.”
“An Italian version of fast food, huh? A salad and a sandwich sound perfect.”
He glanced at her figure. Thin by his family’s standards, and maybe just a tad chunky by American, it was feminine and alluring, even in jeans and that ice cream pink shirt he couldn’t miss from a mile away. “It won’t be low cal—” He stopped. “I mean, it’s way heartier than what you’re probably used to.”
Go for it, Giovanni. Insult her. Tell her she’s fat. Go ahead. Stick your foot in it. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t have to worry how soon Leo proposed to Casey. He wouldn’t stand a chance with Amalie. She’d probably boycott the wedding if she thought he might be invited.
She shrugged, and his heart stopped threatening to go on strike. “Doesn’t matter. I’m on vacation.”
After a huge breath of relief, he translated the rest of the choices, then her order, and made his own. As he led her to one of the tables scattered across the sidewalk outside, he glanced at her over his shoulder.
In the sunlight, even with that silly hat shading her face, her cheeks had picked up a hint of color. Not blushing, he was glad to see, especially after his blunder, but an honest sun-kissed pink that complemented her shirt.
He was pretty much a goner already. And that surprised him. Most of the time, he was so busy convincing himself he didn’t want to get married—or trying to convince his family—that he’d never managed to fall this hard. And now, he felt great about it. Ecstatic. Ready to drag her home to meet Mom the minute Amalie gave the right response.
Amazing.
He settled her in her chair, put their number in its holder on the table for the waiter’s notice, and sat across from her.
Leaning on one elbow, she smiled as she watched the people on the street. She turned back when the waiter arrived, and he realized that, even though they hadn’t spoken to each other for the last few minutes, they didn’t need to.
He wanted to kiss her just as the sun had. He leaned forward and smiled into her eyes.
And then, something attacked him from behind. By the time he came out of Leo’s over-exuberant greeting, Amalie was laughing, and Casey was eating off Amalie’s plate.
“Oh, that’s good.” Casey picked up the plate and held it out of Amalie’s reach.
Leo stopped his strangulation attempt on Giovanni. “I’ll get you your own. What was it?”
He looked at Amalie, but Giovanni had to tell him. Leo headed for the line while Giovanni pulled up another couple of chairs.
Casey, still dimpling, gave Amalie back her lunch and winked at Giovanni. When Leo got back with plates for him and Casey, the seating arrangement worked itself out boy-girl-boy-
girl.
Giovanni glowered at his cousin, who spent quite a lot of time talking up Amalie, asking where she’d been, how she’d liked the Sistine Chapel, what she planned to see at the basilica. “Because you can’t fit it all into one visit. But you’ll be going back, if you’ve got tickets to Mass.”
“We do.” Amalie’s face brightened. “And although they said they couldn’t guarantee that the Pope would preside, I’m hoping he does.”
Giovanni leaned closer to her. “Maybe I’ll go with you. I always try to get to Mass at least once while I’m here.”
She peered at him from under her lashes, as though he were a hero she’d been awaiting. What an offering. His heart might melt and leak out right in front of her.
“Is it usually the Pope?” Now her eyes lit with hope.
“It depends. If he’s in town, he does his best to preside publicly.”
The joy on her face settled into his soul and filled some part of him that he hadn’t realized was empty. His newly soppy heart was all hers. And it sounded as if all her thoughts were for hearing the Pope. Not a bad choice, but Giovanni wasn’t sure how he could compete.
Casey leaned toward Leo. Then with a twist of expression, she elbowed Giovanni. “What do you think? Don’t you think someone like her belongs in a convent? Wearing a wimple and habit?”
Giovanni gaped, first at Casey, then at the woman he’d been trying to flirt with all morning. Did Casey mean he really did have to compete with the Pope? He might as well give up immediately. But he didn’t want to.
“Oh, Casey,” Amalie, said. So, she didn’t deny it.
Giovanni wished she would.
Casey patted her hand with another lightning change of mood. “Sorry. I know. It’s between you and God. None of my business.”
Giovanni’s heart started beating again, and under the table, he clenched his fists. Yes, it was Amalie’s business, and depended on God, but Giovanni needed to hear the outcome. Preferably before he finished sealing his heart up in gift wrap and handing it over.
Oh, wait. Too late.
Amalie lifted her chin, the movement as much a sign of gathering courage as it was irritation, and turned to Leo. “You said you wanted to go to university. What do you want to study?”
He swallowed a mouthful of food. “Management.” He glanced at Giovanni. Then, as if he’d found a store of courage there, he straightened. “No one in my family has ever considered getting a degree, but in today’s world, you need it if you’re to operate a restaurant. That’s one reason I want Jovi to move here for a while and take the pressure off me. He can run the place with Mama and Papa, and I can go to school. When I graduate, I don’t care what he does.”
While Leo talked, Giovanni relaxed. “You’ve got plenty of other relatives who could help out. Why get me to move from California?”
“Well, see.” Leo turned and pretended to whisper to the girls. “We’re partners in crime, Jovi and me. And you know how university students like to get into trouble.” Leo grinned and shoved the last of his sandwich into his mouth. “Besides, if he stays in California, how will you ever get to know him after we get married?”
The silence stretched, trembled, and finally broke.
“I’ll be in the same state, won’t I?” Casey asked.
“After we’re married? No. You’ll be here.” Leo stared at her, frowning. “With me,” he added, his emphasis sounding more pleading than confident.
“I thought we were living in the U.S.”
“Um.”
Giovanni stood. “Who’s ready to see the basilica?”
Amalie turned to him, her eyes hot and determined, and she shook her head at him.
“You promised me, Leo.” Casey’s tone rose, half pleasing, half arguing.
“Not really—”
“When we talked about maybe getting married, you said you wouldn’t mind moving to California and starting a genuine Italian restaurant there.”
“But I wouldn’t need to start one here. I have one. Rossetti’s.”
Casey stood and threw her napkin on the table. “I don’t believe you!” She stalked out, and within seconds, Amalie hurried to follow.
Leo, looking as if he wanted to cry, hung his head. After a second, he reached out and slipped the strap of Casey’s purse off the back of the chair. “She forgot this.”
“We’d better go find them.”
Leo nodded. “Jovi, you think she won’t marry me if I want to stay here?”
“I don’t know.” Giovanni grabbed his cousin’s arm and towed him after the two women. “What’s wrong with the U.S.?”
“I live here.”
“And she lives there.”
“Yeah.”
What a mess. Giovanni steered Leo across the street and toward Vatican City. After a moment, he caught sight of Amalie’s hat, bright and bobbing close to the entrance. If Zio Manuelo had other sons, or even a daughter, Leo emigrating might not be such a family tragedy. But an only child had responsibilities. In Italy, those duties often took on the nature of a sacred vow.
Leo caught sight of Casey, and he pounded across the pavement, shouting.
Casey stopped long enough to grab her purse before she turned her back on him again.
Giovanni felt the rejection as if it were his own. And Amalie’s as well, since she stayed with Casey.
Leo followed.
Giovanni might as well join the train.
When he reached the obelisk, Leo was sitting next to Casey, talking, his hands weaving through his words with fervor. After a moment, she leaned her head to his shoulder, and Giovanni took a deep breath. Whatever they’d decided, it must be all right.
For now.
What if he and Amalie ended up with that kind of dilemma? They both lived in California, so they didn’t have that decision to make. But there were a thousand other issues to consider. And since Giovanni barely knew her, he had no idea what might be a breaking point between them.
What if she really did want to become a nun? What right did he have, trying to woo her away from God? And yet, if he was really in love—if this were more than infatuation—what right did he have to never say a word to her? Never give her the choice?
Religious vocation or marriage, whichever she close, it was Amalie’s concern alone. Giovanni had already admitted that.
She could make it his.
Yeah, and then she could treat him like a big brother butting into her business.
Amalie filled all his requirements: belief in God, kind, and thoughtful. And that connection he suspected stretched between them—well, he’d never felt anything like that before. But that didn’t mean she was the one God intended for him.
Better just stop thinking that way right now.
Then again, how would he know if he didn’t test his theories?
He glanced at Amalie and nearly groaned aloud then had to mock himself. So much for not thinking that way. Yup, he was a goner.
Trouble was, while he’d been daydreaming, Leo had commandeered both girls, one on each arm.
Again, Giovanni followed, half-angry at himself. What—what—did the guy have that Giovanni didn’t? Giovanni was fine if Leo annexed Casey. He had every right to do that. But Amalie?
Not that Giovanni had any claims himself, but he wanted to. There was something about Amalie that caught his heart’s attention, something he hadn’t been able to name yet. He might not ever pinpoint it, but he knew it existed.
He strode across Saint Peter’s Square, his heels pounding to catch up, and tried to let the majesty of the city seep into his soul.
Vatican City. What a place to fall in love.
The truth was, he sensed something deep in Amalie. He sensed an honesty that went beyond the absence of a lie and delved into radical truth.
He sensed she possessed what he had always needed, that she carried it in her soul.
And considering Casey’s words, if she gave her soul to anyone, it wouldn’t be to Giovanni Rossetti.
&n
bsp; 3
The entrance to St. Peter’s Basilica was thin of visitors, and from just inside the threshold, Amalie saw at the far end of the enormous hall, an altar where a liturgy was in progress. She craned her neck to catch sight of the presider. If it was the Pope—but no. The priest saying the Mass was tall and thin and definitely not the church leader she’d come to respect and revere.
Experiencing a papal Mass had been her only goal when she’d finally caved to Casey’s plea to come on this trip. But then what? What did she want to take from the experience? She’d take in as much as she could see of Vatican City; she’d see the Pope, maybe, and then what?
What would she take home with her?
A pilgrimage ought to change a person’s life.
Except, it wasn't as though she could jump in and commence a social justice scheme right then. She might feel compelled to help someone, but who was there to help? The tourists all seemed to be getting along just fine; she didn't have to fight for them. There was always Casey and Leo. Sure, their romance needed help, but that was hardly a matter of justice. And who knew if this feeling would last? How many times had she been inspired, in prayer, or reading, or listening to a homily, to go out and be a force for Christ, and it hadn't lasted long enough to get her out the door? She didn't want this inspiration to fade like everything else.
But maybe God’s purpose for her this trip was to help Casey and Leo find a solution to their issues.
With a sigh, Amalie glanced down. And how would that change her? Make her a better person? Make her a force for good in the world she’d go back to?
She couldn’t think of a thing in Vatican City that could have that sort of effect on her. Not the golden icons, not the art, not the soaring buildings or the ancient stones. Not even the people were any different from the people at home—not even Giovanni.
Really, she had to stop thinking of the man.
She straightened her shoulders and looked again at the Mass going on at the other side of the basilica. She could go to Mass anywhere in the world, and anywhere she went, it could have the power for change.