I’m about to answer when I have to jump to the side, dodging a motorist on a Vespa who rams his horn repeatedly as he zooms past me. I catch my breath, realizing I was almost smashed into tomato sauce on the floor. If there’s one thing about Rome I’m struggling to get used to, it’s the roads – I can’t tell if there are any laws at all, or if Italians just take their lives into their hands every time they try to get to the other side of one.
“We should get out of the way,” Marco says. He steps closer, putting out his arm as if to shield me from any further altercations, his hand hovering just an inch from my elbow. “What were you looking for?”
I show him my cellphone screen. “This little restaurant. Do you know where it is?”
“Ah, Luccio’s. Yes, I know it. I go there often. It’s just a couple of streets away.”
I drop my hand down to my side, sighing as my shoulders slump. “I knew it. I got totally lost.”
Marco laughs lightly. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll take you there. Then you can’t possibly get lost again. Deal?”
I’m not sure what he’s getting out of his side of the bargain, but I nod and smile. “Deal,” I tell him, letting him turn to lead the way.
As we face towards the entrance to the street, where I just came from, I notice a couple of girls at nearby storefronts turning quickly back to the wares in front of them. One doesn’t even bother to pretend, continuing to stare at Marco openly. He gets a lot of attention – I can see that.
But as we continue down the street, it’s me his eyes turn to seek out, checking if I’m still with him – and he doesn’t spare a glance for any of them.
Which is just great… but he probably still sees me as his friend’s child, a young girl, and not a woman. And if he’s not interested in these beautiful, leggy Italian girls with their bronzed skin and their short shorts, then why would he ever be interested in me?
CHAPTER THREE
Marco
I lead Hannah through the short journey to Luccio’s, wishing that she’d managed to get herself even more lost. If it had been a twenty-minute walk even ten! But it’s only five minutes before I find myself standing outside the familiar vermillion awning that hangs over the front window, the name of the restaurant picked out in badly-faded letters after years of wear.
I hesitate outside. “Well, here it is,” I tell her. “You must try the Bolognese. The best in Italy, I swear to you. Like nothing, you’ve eaten in the States. It will ruin you forever.”
Hannah laughs, but there is something hesitant about her as well. “Thank you,” she says. She keeps looking between the door and me, back and forth. “For guiding me here, I mean. Um. You said you eat here a lot, right?”
“Absolutely.” I nod in confirmation. “The best alternative to traveling back home and eating my Mamma’s food. Though, I still do that a couple of times a year as well.”
“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Hannah asks. Then her cheeks color, and she begins to talk fast, waving her hands in the air. “Oh, I suppose you probably have. And if you haven’t, then you must have plans. I mean, you’re dressed in a suit, so I guess you’re probably working. And why wouldn’t you be? It’s a Tuesday, after all, and you’re not on vacation, only I am…”
“Hannah,” I say, cutting off her rambling with a slow smile. “Are you asking me if I would like to eat lunch with you?”
Hannah’s rosy cheeks darken even further. “Yes,” she says, mercifully falling silent.
“Then I accept,” I say, gesturing towards the door. “After you.”
“Oh!” she says, then turns after another flustered gesture, finally making her way towards the door. Her surprise at my acceptance is as adorable as her shyness. I would expect a girl with her looks to have become unbearably vain and over-confident, expecting any man to follow her around like a broken puppy. Hannah is nothing at all like that. I’m sure her father had something to do with keeping her feet on the ground.
I follow her into the dim interior of the restaurant, where small chairs and tables are clustered close together to fit in as many people as possible. Our waiter shows us to a place next to the window, where we can see outside as well as watch the activity inside. A table for two, me opposite Hannah. Something flares in the pit of my stomach. This feels almost like a date.
Of course, I shouldn’t be thinking about her this way. She’s my friend’s daughter. If he knew I had designs on her, he would be furious.
But that doesn’t stop the way my body reacts to her. I want to grab her and spin her to sit down on my lap so that I can fill my hands with that juicy peach. Of course, I don’t. We’re in a public place, after all, and she might not like it.
“So, returning to my earlier question,” I say, ignoring the menu that I know by heart and admiring Hannah instead. “What brings you to Rome?”
“Just a vacation,” she says, smiling. “I wanted to do something independently before I start college, and traveling alone sounded fun. Plus, I’ve always wanted to see Rome.”
“Your father should have called me,” I say in reproach. “I would have made sure that you had everything you need.”
“I didn’t even remember you still lived here,” Hannah laughs. I can’t say it doesn’t sting just a little, but why should she? To her, I’m just her father’s old friend. “Anyway, it’s fine. It wouldn’t be much of an independent journey if I relied on someone else to organize everything.”
The corners of my lips twitch into an amused smile. “I suppose that’s true.”
“It’s kind of wild that we
