“What’d they do?” I asked, breath held.
“They agreed it must be my calling. So now they back me up completely. We planned this trip together, and I remembered how cool my parents really are. We just had to get through a rough patch. I’m even grateful for them pushing me. It helped things become clear.”
I stared at him, astonished at his maturity. “You have it all together,” I murmured. “I wish I was like you. I’m a walking disaster.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about? You are literally the most mature young woman I’ve ever known.”
I let out a bitter laugh and twirled my straw. “Then I really fooled you. Ian, you have no idea how messed up I feel. I’m mad at my mom all the time for ignoring me and trying to push me toward schools that favor math and science. Just because I’m good at those subjects doesn’t mean I want to have that career focus. She’s been trying to get me to intern at a law firm and says a restaurant is beneath me. I love to cook and really want to study it more. And I love art—I thought of getting a minor in art history. When I mention doing any of those things, she shuts me down and says I need to support myself and make money. Then she trots off to work and forgets all about me until the next fight. Do you know why we’re really in Italy?”
He leaned forward, his gaze laser focused on mine. “Tell me.”
“Because I got busted for smoking weed. The police picked us up when we were driving, and I got arrested. These were the same friends I planned to join on a cross-country road trip in their RV. One of the guys is a musician, so we were going to hit a bunch of clubs. I was so tired of feeling trapped in this small little existence I had.”
“What’d your mom do after the bust?”
“Lost her shit. The next week, we were booked for Italy for the summer. Problem solved by yanking me away from it all.”
The bitterness still ran deep. She hadn’t even pretended interest in why I was trying weed and had stopped hanging out with my usual friends. Because she didn’t know who I really was and didn’t care to find out.
“Want to know what’s worse?” I asked, unable to stop the dam from breaking open.
“What?”
“In a sick way, I was kind of happy when she first told me we were going to Italy because of the weed. I was actually grateful to have her attention. And then I found out she was working on this huge new account and lost being the lead person to run it, which must’ve freaked her out. I bet she figured she’d go on a vacation for a while to let things settle before heading back. Once again, it was about her. Not me.”
He looked thoughtful and sympathetic at the same time. “Your mom seems to like control.”
“She lives for it. That’s the reason I don’t have a dad.”
“What do you mean?”
I’d already dumped way too much stuff on him, but I was incapable of stopping at this point. Why try to hide how fucked-up my family really was? “Mom had me via a sperm donor. She said she wasn’t meeting any good guys, and she didn’t want to wait for a baby. So she picked out some dude in a catalogue and got pregnant.”
He fell back into the chair, brows lifted in surprise. “Wow.”
“Yeah, wow. So I don’t get a dad because she wants to schedule me into her life with the least amount of mess possible.”
He was silent for a while. I waited, expecting him to agree and cite his religious views regarding God’s wrath about having babies outside of marriage. I knew the church was strict, with narrow views on conception, sex outside of marriage, and the LGBTQ community. Instead, he managed to shock me with his next words. “I can see how hard it’d be not having a father who can share your life. Even with divorced couples, the child gets a mom and dad. But your mom wanted you so badly, she chose you. Every step she took revolved around bringing you into her life so she could love you.”
“But she looked at me like a commodity to purchase! There was no love involved.”
His blue eyes burned into mine. “I disagree. There was plenty of love in her intention to have you. I think it’s powerful when a parent actually chooses to have a baby with a clear mind and open heart. It may not be the traditional route, but it gives more meaning. My parents chose me, too.”
I scoffed. “They were married! They decided to have a baby like a normal couple!”
“They adopted me. My birth mom left me in a basket on the church steps. Just like in the movies.”
Another shock barreled through me. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I was going into foster care, but my parents heard the story and chose to adopt me. I’m not sure if they were ready for a child. They certainly weren’t actively looking to adopt. But it was a small, tight-knit town, and they were well loved, and I ended up being their son.” He tapped his chin. “I could have decided to feel like crap because I was dumped by the woman who birthed me. But I like the idea that I was specifically chosen by my parents. It made me feel grateful, not unwanted.”
He’d managed to spin something awful into something beautiful. I couldn’t quite grasp all the emotions and thoughts flooding my brain, but I knew I’d be looking at things in a different way—through his eyes. I struggled to respond in a way that made sense, but he suddenly gasped and pointed toward the sky. “Look.” He jumped up from the table and went to the edge of the terrace. I followed.
A glowing, bright orange sliver of light crept slowly over the horizon. The color emphasized the gorgeous hues of the rooftops and the dusty darkness of the sky. Inch by slow inch, the full moon revealed herself in all her glory. I held my breath at the sheer beauty before me, as if a gift had been bestowed on a limited number of viewers hanging out on a rooftop in Florence. The color intensified and seeped into an almost fiery red as it reached full height and breadth, an angry, moody moon claiming dominance over the stars and sky and sun.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” I whispered, not wanting to break the quiet hush that overtook us.
Without a word, he took my hand. Slowly, he raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss into my palm. I stilled, afraid to move, afraid to speak, wanting only to be held by a man who was never meant to know more of me. I wanted to study and trace each line of his palm, and his sinewy wrist, and his hair-roughened arm, but I did nothing. And then his gaze crashed into mine, his eyes a dark, intense blue I could drown in. “I have to tell you something, Allegra. It’s not fair to keep it from you.”
“What is it?”
“I feel things for you. At first, I thought it was just friendship. Now that I’ve finally committed to the seminary, I figured there were no challenges left to fight. I dated through college, had crushes, kissed girls, but no one got inside of me. To my heart.”
I held my breath, waiting for the rest.
“Until now.”
I bit my lip, fighting my need to reach for him. “I’m confused. I’m feeling things for you too, but what can happen between us? You’re going to be a priest. We only have a week left. Should we even try to figure something out that can never work?”
“I don’t know. I should probably stay away from you and keep things simple. But how can I walk away from a gift? That’s how I feel about you. I’m happy when we’re together. Hey, I’m happy if I can look across the room and see you at the table, laughing, having fun. It fills me up inside.”
I groaned, trembling at the intensity, the truth of his words slicing through me. “I never felt this way either,” I admitted.
“If you want me to leave you alone, I will. I don’t have any answers. We only have a week left, and then I’m off to Assisi.”
I indulged myself and stepped into his arms, wanting us to be close. He held me tight, rocking me slightly, our bodies pressed together in perfect symmetry. His clean scent drifted to my nostrils. “After the tour, we’re heading to a rental villa in Tuscany for another week. Is Assisi far?”
“No.”
“You can come visit, if you want. I’m sure Mom would let you.”
“I’d like that. I don’t understand why this is happening,” he murmured in my ear. “But I want to spend more time with you. We can just take it slow. See what happens. Enjoy Italy together. Okay?”
I sighed. Deep inside, contentment unfurled to relax me. He filled me up. I felt truly seen for the first time. I wouldn’t think about the ultimate ending between us. I’d just enjoy the moment and the gift of his company.
We stood in the dark, under the full moon, holding each other. And I knew I’d remember this moment and this moon for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Francesca
There were dueling camps of thought regarding Venice. One side swore the city was dirty, smelly, moldy, and sinking. The other cited the gorgeous architecture, elegant gondolas, and timeless beauty of a city built on water.
Thankfully, Mom, Allegra, and I agreed with the latter.
We’d passed the halfway mark of our tour and left a trail of famous places behind us that had stolen our hearts. Even though the bus rides were endless, and we’d packed and repacked a million times, and the heat sank into our skin like a slow burn, bringing a bone-weary exhaustion that staggered me, Italy charmed, seduced, and demanded to be loved back.
And I did.
We were walking to the famous Piazza San Marco to grab lunch after a jam-packed morning tour of the city. Our gondola ride was scheduled for tomorrow, along with a glassblowing visit, and then we’d finish up in Burano before heading to our last stop in Siena.
I watched Allegra practically skip down the cobblestone streets, her face glowing like she had a wonderful secret. And it had to do with Ian.
Since the night they’d escaped to the terrace for their chat, the friendship had definitely veered into romantic territory. I knew the signs well. Secret longing looks shared across the room. Casual excuses to get close—a brush of the shoulders by accident or stolen touches of the hand or arm. They sat together on the bus and their laughter filled the air with the vigor and passion of youthful infatuation. I’d kept my mouth shut, not wanting to cause any undue tension between us. Not when things were going so well. Maybe I was lying to myself by thinking our problems were solved and we’d return home with a new respect for one another. Maybe I was just too happy in this fleeting moment to think about the future and try to control it.
Enzo was slowly teaching me that.
How to relax. How to seize the moment. I was immersed in my own game of hide-and-seek with him during the tour, trying to find ways to sneak in conversations or a private rendezvous. We’d been all set to meet on the terrace again the night Allegra announced she was seeing Ian there. Having nowhere else to go without being spotted, we’d canceled and I’d gone to bed early, just as I’d declared.
But I dreamed of him again.
I’d become a starstruck, giddy teen crushing on my tour guide. It was textbook cliché and I should have been embarrassed, but I felt too good to punish myself so soon. There’d be plenty of time for internal recriminations later.
Once we entered the square, I had to catch my breath. So many movies had been filmed here, showcasing the exquisite detail of Venice and the romanticism of the plaza. Various cafés lined the perimeter, and St. Mark’s Basilica dominated the open area, showing off stunning marble lacework. The clock tower held a high archway that led to the shopping streets of the Rialto. We’d put that off until tomorrow so we’d have hours to indulge in shopping. Music rose and fell around us, a rich, soothing Italian melody that matched the otherworldly surroundings. Crowds swarmed the area and squeezed into the open chairs to sip lattes, eat bitter chocolate tarts, and people watch.
“Oh, let’s take a picture of us with the pigeons,” Allegra said. “It’ll look awesome on my IG story.”
I looked at the hundreds of fowl walking around, climbing on the body parts of tourists posing for the cameras. They looked like the New York City pigeons but even less afraid of the crowds. If everyone was doing it, the birds must be used to it. And clean. I hoped.
“Sure, do we need someone to take it or are you doing a selfie?”
Mom stepped back and put her hands out. “I’ll pass on this one. I don’t want them on me.”
I tilted my head in surprise. “Why not? You like animals. It’s only for a minute. Look—everyone’s doing it.”
“Come on, Nonni. I want you in the pic!” Allegra urged.
Stubbornness radiated from her figure. “No, sorry. I don’t like things crawling on me. I’ll take the picture. Stop bullying me.”
Allegra laughed and I shrugged. “Fine. Oh, let’s get some bird food from that lady over there first. We need a decent amount for a good shot,” Allegra said. I gave her some money, and she returned with a small bag of bird food.
Mom frowned. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I heard you’re not supposed to feed the birds in the square. I read it in an article.”
“Mom, look around. There are no signs, and tourists are doing it everywhere. Come on, here’s my phone and Allegra’s.” I loved the idea of having a fun pic with my daughter to post.
We shook out a decent amount of corn and placed it in our open palms. Then we knelt on the ground, close together, and spread our arms wide to wait. Allegra sprinkled some extra around us in a half circle and the birds began to trickle over.
I laughed at the ticklish feeling of a pigeon pecking gently at my hand, and soon a decent group of birds had been tempted over. They perched on our arms and around our legs.
“Mom, take the pictures,” I called out.
She began snapping with one phone, then traded off to the other. More pigeons joined the flock. I kept my smile, but then one landed on my head, and more on my shoulders, and in a few moments, all hell broke loose.
“Ugh, Mom, there’s too many,” Allegra said, shaking the rest of the corn off her and trying to move. “I think we’re good.”
“Yeah, let’s get up.”
We began to stand, figuring the pigeons would go away, but another small flock joined the first and had us surrounded. I shook my head, trying to get them off, but kernels must’ve been stuck in my shirt because one began to dive into my cleavage for his treat.
“Get away!” I shouted, stumbling and trying to wave them off.
This got them more excited. Birds began flying around me in a frenzy to get more corn, and Allegra let out a shriek and started running away.
“Leave them alone!” Mom yelled, launching toward me and holding the phones up like war weapons. She began making shooing noises and flapping her hands like a crazed bird herself, and then I heard shocked gasps and laughter from around us and began to panic about being photographed again. What if it went viral and I was dubbed the bird lady?
Not going to happen.
I grabbed Mom and ducked my head, hiding my face, and we ran to the edge of the square, tearing through the crowds. Allegra was right behind us, the leftover bag of corn dropped where we’d posed, and the flock of pigeons stopped following us and happily munched on the discarded feed.
Breathing heavily, I began patting myself down, checking for bites or poop, then did the same thing with Allegra. “Are you okay?” I asked nervously. “They didn’t hurt you?”
“No, it was just freaky,” she said, jumping up and down. “They got a little intense.”
“You saved me, Mom,” I said. “I think they believed you were their leader.”
“No pigeons are going to mess with my girls,” she said, her expression tight with determination. “I told you posing with birds is bad.”
Allegra and I shared a look. Then we began to laugh. We laughed so hard and so long, we bent over and tears seeped down our cheeks. The whole thing reminded me of my fall down the steps and my mother’s smug I told you so regarding my sh
oes. Now she’d done it again with the pigeons.
“From now on, we listen to Nonni,” Allegra announced.
“Agreed. Let’s eat. I’m starving.” We walked to the first open café and grabbed a table. I squeezed out a bit of antibacterial gel in both of our hands to sanitize from the birds, then opened the menu. After a few moments, we all agreed on the same things—panini, fries, and frozen hot chocolate sundaes for dessert.
Allegra looked shocked after the waiter left. “Mom, did you actually leave the mozzarella on your sandwich? And skipped the salad? And ordered dessert?”
I wagged my finger at her. “When you’re old as dirt and even looking at fries adds pounds, you can apologize for that remark. But, yes, I’ve decided to relax my stringent calorie intake and live a little.”
“I’m glad,” Mom said. She stared at me with a gentle affection and approval that made my heart soar. “I think you look wonderful. Life is too short to skip the fries.”
“I’ll put that on a poster next to my bathroom scale.” I sipped my sparkling water, enjoying the dry bubbles that danced in my mouth. Definitely, champagne tonight. “We have dinner on our own. Any special place you want to go?”
“We’re eating lunch and planning dinner already? I can’t think that far ahead,” Allegra complained. “I was going to ask if it would be cool if I skipped out tonight. Ian mentioned doing some exploring. We’d grab a bite on our own. I guess it’s his parents’ anniversary and he wants them to have a romantic dinner alone.”
She faked casual pretty well, but I caught on because I hid my own secrets. I hesitated, not sure if allowing her to traipse through Venice with Ian was a good idea. “He can drink, you can’t,” I pointed out. “I don’t want you going to clubs or bars.”
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