"Try this, you'll like it," Dante said.
"What is it?" I took the cold bottle and looked at the label, holding it in the light of the fire.
"Aperol spritz. It's a Venetian drink. You'll be in love with all things Venetian by the end of the summer." He took a swig from his own bottle without taking his eyes from mine.
I opened the bottle and took a sip. It was sweet with a bitter aftertaste. I took another swallow, promising myself this would be my last drink. "Is there a washroom nearby?"
"Just go in the sea," he said, pointing the neck of his beer bottle toward the water.
I balked and my mind went blank with embarrassment.
"I'll show you," Federica said as she walked up to the fire. "I have to go, too.”
"Grazie." I got up to follow her.
She walked ahead of me and I strode to catch up, but there were so many people on the beach that I almost lost her in the crowd. We approached the speakers and the bass thumped in my chest. A line of girls in bikinis and tiny dresses stood waiting for the outdoor toilets.
Fed stopped at the queue and turned to face me. It wasn't just my instinct before—she did look stressed. Her lips were pressed tightly together, the corners downturned.
"You okay, Fed?"
"I didn't know he'd take to you so much," she said. "I didn't think he even liked redheads."
I blinked. She'd said she didn't like Dante, but this sounded like jealousy.
"I just..." She shifted her feet. "Never mind." She shook her head and blew out a frustrated breath. Just then, one of the washrooms became available and she went to take it, leaving me bemused.
When I came out of the toilet, Fed was already back at the fire. I was making a beeline for her when a warm hand ran down my arm and clasped my fingers. Dante pulled me around to face him, and suddenly we were nose to nose. His almond shaped eyes sparkled down at me. Pleasure blossomed in my stomach like a rose.
"Dance with me," he whispered against my ear, his accent rich and warm.
Thoughts of Fed vanished as he pulled me toward the dance floor. The music enveloped us as Dante's arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me against him. His soft lips brushed the curve of my ear and I shivered with pleasure. Closing my eyes, I melted against him, letting the music sweep me away.
Ten
I woke as my phone chirped. I cracked open an eye. Bright sunlight streamed in through the lace curtains on my window and dappled across my bed. I was sweating, so I threw off the single sheet, clawing at it with my legs. It was going to be even hotter today than it was yesterday. Yawning, I put a palm to my temple. A dull thud throbbed there that matched my heartbeat. How much had I had to drink last night? I reached for the glass of water on my bedside table and guzzled the entire thing before picking up my phone. The screen told me it was almost eleven. I squinted at the blurry text message beneath the time.
Fed: Buongiorno. How do you feel this morning?
I rubbed my eyes and refocused so I could tap out a response: Someone made frittata with my brains. How do you feel?
Fed: Just sleepy. Glad it's Sunday. Have fun last night?
Me: I had a great time, thanks for taking me.
She didn't answer for a few minutes. And then finally, You are welcome.
Another text showed on my screen-not from Fed, but Elda.
Elda: Are you up? I need a favour. I'm sorry, I know it's your day off but I have an emergency at work. Cristiano is at a friend's house but could you watch Isaia? Just for a few hours?
I groaned. My head flopped back on my pillow. As much as I loved Isaia, the last thing I felt like doing was babysitting. I couldn't refuse just because I was hungover.
Of course. Be down in 15?
Elda: Thank you so much! I'll make it up to you, I promise.
I nodded grimly and got out of bed. The mirror caught my eye, and I grimaced. Mascara had left smudgy rings under my eyes, and my hair was a bushy disaster. I hadn't showered after swimming last night and I could feel the salt on my skin and in my hair.
I got into the shower, scrubbed myself clean and washed my hair thoroughly. I picked the tangles out of my wet curls, and then twisted my wet hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. Instantly, short spirals sprang out on my forehead and around my ears. My mom always said that my hair was a reflection of my spirit. If that was the case, then I was rebellious and uncontrollable.
I wrinkled my nose as I threw the dress I had been wearing the night before into my laundry basket. I put on a clean summer dress and went downstairs.
Elda sat on the marble step at the door, buckling the straps on her shoes. Her brow was deeply furrowed.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"One of my employees missed an important deadline. If I don't work today, we could lose an account that is almost half our business." She shook her head. "It's really my fault for needing so much one vendor, but they're a big chain we can't say no to. I don’t know how long I'll be gone but I'll call you. Isaia is playing in his room. Take him for gelato, he loves it. I left money on the counter." She apologized multiple times and was still saying sorry when she finally shut the door.
I found Isaia in his room doodling in a sketchbook. He had a glass of water and ice sitting on the floor beside him.
"Hi sweetheart. Looks like you and I get to hang out for a few hours." I sat down beside him and kissed the top of his head. "What are you drawing?"
He turned the page toward me. It was covered with doodles of fireballs, all the same shape.
"Wow, Isaia. Very nice." I was about to comment on the irony of his penchant for all things fiery, but I thought better of it. "Guess what? Your mom said we could go for gelato. What do you say?"
He smiled and nodded, which was the best reaction I was bound to get. I slathered us both in sunscreen, and found us each a sun hat. I filled a large bottle with water and tucked it into my purse. We stepped out of the air-conditioned comfort of the Besaggio's home and into the stifling heat of an Italian summer day.
I used my phone to search for the nearest gelato shop and entered the address into my GPS. Taking Isaia's hand, we walked silently and kept to the shade. Thoughts of Dante made my stomach flutter, and I let myself relive the events of the night before. I barely registered that the streets were mostly empty. I could feel Dante's warm hands at my waist, his breath against my neck. I couldn't help but smile as I remembered him cutting my hair elastic, and his tilted eyes as my curls fell down around my shoulder. He was bold, that was for sure. Maybe a little too bold. But our chemistry... it was so compelling. I could forgive someone a lot because of chemistry like that.
The GPS directed us through an open courtyard. We crossed the little piazza, stepped into a narrow calle, and walked toward the sunlight at the far end.
As we approached the end of the corridor, the sound of breaking glass shattered my daydream. A screech of twisting metal echoed through the calle. I winced, the sound offending my eardrums.
"What was that?" I looked down at Isaia as he looked up at me, his black eyes wide. I peeked around.
Two men disappeared around a corner in a hurry. A flash of a bright green t-shirt with two yellow stripes across the back. Broken glass scattered across the stones in front of a tabacchi shop.
The metal security shutter had been warped and jammed up in its tracks. A dry desperate voice called out in Italian. Isaia and I clutched each others hands as we approached the tabacchi. We bent to look under the twisted shutter. The shop floor was a mess of smashed goods and broken glass. I gasped and my heart jumped. Behind the counter, an elderly man lay on the floor. I could only see his head and one arm. Sweat poured down his face and his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. He had a nasty looking cut on his cheek.