“Huh,” I said, my smile ramping up like ten more degrees.
We looked at each other for another long minute, and I’m pretty sure all four thousand headstones leaned in to hear what was going to happen next. So . . . were we just going to stand around looking at each other? What about all that crazy Italian passion we supposedly had?
He took a tiny step forward. “Did you finish the journal?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
I exhaled. “I think they were perfect for each other. Things just got in the way. And Howard knew all along that he wasn’t my father. He just really wanted to be in my life.”
“Smart, scary Howard.” He held out the white paper bag he’d been carrying all this time.
“What’s this?”
“An official apology. After I left the party I went into Florence and started driving around asking people where I could find a secret bakery. Finally some women walking home from a party told me where to go. For future reference, it’s on Via del Canto Rivolto. And it’s awesome.”
I opened the bag and warm, buttery heaven wafted up at me. A flaky, crescent-shaped pastry was wrapped in white tissue paper. “What is it?”
“Cornetta con Nutella. I bought two of them, but I ate the other one on the way. And then I used my leftover change to wake you up.”
I reached reverently into the bag, then took a big bite of the cornetta. It was warm and melty and tasted like every perfect thing that could ever happen to you. Italian summers. First loves. Chocolate. I took another big bite.
“Ren?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time, please don’t eat my other one.”
He laughed. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to talk to me at all, but I knew food was probably my best bet. Next time I leave you standing alone in the dark like a total jerk, I’ll buy you a dozen.”
“A dozen at least.” I took a deep breath. Now that I had Nutella coursing through my veins I felt invincible. “And just so you know, I meant what I said at Valentina’s. You’re the one I like. Maybe love.”
“Maybe love, huh? Well, that’s good news. Because I maybe love you too.”
We grinned at each other and then a warm, spicy feeling dripped straight though my core, and I could tell Ren was feeling the same thing, because suddenly we were standing so close I could see every single one of his eyelashes. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
He squinted. “I think you have Nutella on your face.”
I groaned. “Ren, would you just kiss me alre—”
But I didn’t finish because he dove on me and we kissed. Like really, really kissed. And it turns out I’d been waiting absolutely my entire life to be kissed by Lorenzo Ferrara in an American cemetery in the middle of Italy. You’re just going to have to trust me on that one.
Finally we broke apart. We’d somehow ended up on the grass and we both rolled on our backs and lay there looking up at the stars with these big Christmas-morning smiles that should have been cheesy but really were just awesome.
“Can we please count that as our first official kiss?”
“First of many,” he said. “But if it’s okay with you, I’m not going to forget that one in Rome, either. Before I so rudely interrupted it, that kiss was pretty much the best thing that had ever happened to me.”
“Me too,” I said.
He rolled to his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “So . . . there’s been something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
“What?”
He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Have you ever thought about what it would be like to stay here in Italy? Permanently? Now that you have a boyfriend and all that?”
Boyfriend. The stars winked ecstatically.
I propped myself up too. “I was actually kind of working on that earlier. Addie texted and told me that I could live with her family next year, and Howard and I spent a long time talking about it.”
“And?”
I took a deep breath. “And I’m staying, Lorenzo.”
He gasped. “Did you just roll your R? I swear you just rolled your R. Say it again.”
I smiled. “Lo-ren-zo. I’m half Italian, right? I should be able to roll my R. And come on. I tell you I’m staying in Florence and you get excited that I can say your name?”
“Never been so excited in my life.”
We grinned at each other. Then I leaned over and kissed him again. Because that was totally something we did now.
“So you’re telling me that not only do you like, maybe love me, but you’re staying here indefinitely?”
“That’s what I said.”
“This is officially la notte più bella della mia vita.”
“I’m sure I would totally agree if I had any idea what that meant.”
“You’ll be speaking Italian in no time.” He interlaced his fingers with mine. “So now that we won’t be chasing your mom’s ex-boyfriends around, what are we going to do?”
I shrugged. “Fall in love?”
“Way ahead of you.” He extended his index finger, lining it up against mine to make a little steeple. “Hey, I just thought of something.”
“What?”