“I took an Art History class when I was at Georgia,” I explained. “We learned about so many cool things, but I never expected to get to see any of them in real life. But the Duomo isright there!I can see the gold roof!
“And somehow you thought the Statue of David was overrated?”
“Compared to David Rose,” I insisted. “But on its own, I’m sure it’s magnificent.”
“It’s just a statue,” Rhett said from the Business Class seat behind us. “I can ask AI to create a picture of a statue of me that lookswaybetter.”
Next to him, Elias said, “I will take you to Sweden. My country is more beautiful than Florence.”
“That’s something only a crazy person would say,” Cole replied. “But Stockholmisa cool city. I played in a scrimmage there against the Swedish National Team when I was in college.”
“I remember that,” Alice said from her special seat across the aisle, her electronic voice cutting through the din of engine noise. “You came home and said you would move to Sweden if you weren’t drafted into the NHL.”
“Good thing I was drafted,” Cole replied. “I would hate to live there in the winter.”
“Cold is good for you!” Elias insisted. “Strong weather makes strong men.”
When the plane touched down, we moved Alice to her special wheelchair and then went through customs. The Italian man behind the glass frowned at my passport—the photo was old, I knew—but then stamped it and waved me on with a bored expression.
Our taxi driver spoke in quick, melodic Italian. Although I didn’t understand any of it, his warmth made me smile. I rolled down the window to let in the evening air, which smelled faintly of espresso and blocks of stone warmed by the sun. Scooters darted past, bells chimed from distant churches in the city, and every corner of Florence seemed to reveal another piece of history .
By the time we reached our hotel, my heart felt light in a way it hadn’t in years.
Cole had booked us in a massive four-bedroom suite that, despite the ancient age of the building, had been retrofitted with an elevator and wheelchair ramps.
“How lucky!” I said as we walked around inside.
“Not luck,” Alice insisted. “Cole always makes sure. For me.”
I snuggled closer to Cole. “You’re lucky to have him as a brother.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” she said. “He’s lucky to have me as a sister!”
We were up early the next morning for a huge breakfast in the hotel’s dining room, and then we took taxis to the Accademia Gallery museum. “They’re opening it half an hour early, just for us,” Rhett explained.
“Really?” I replied.
“Gio Allavecchio owes me a favor,” Rhett explained, referencing one of the wingers on the Reapers. “He pulled some strings. We’ve got the place to ourselves for thirty minutes.”
“What do we want to see first?” Elias asked.
Cole smirked at me. “I know. Follow me.”
The room felt almost like a chapel, with a quiet, reverent air. The walls were a soft, pale stone, and the early morning light streamed in from a skylight high above the domed ceiling.
Michaelangelo’s David stood at the far end of the hall, beneath that dome, elevated on a marble pedestal that made him seem even taller than his seventeen feet. The light caught the smooth curves of his body as we approached. Every detail looked alive, like the statue might suddenly start breathing.
I took a moment, savoring the famous statue’s presence while we were alone with it, rather than sharing the experience with hundreds of other tourists.
“Well?” Cole asked. “What do you think?”
“I think I’ve been wrong all this time,” I admitted. “This wins.”
He smiled triumphantly. “Told you.”
“Why does it win?” Alice asked. “What do you mean?”
“On our first date—”
