“Oh no. I’mthattourist. The drunk one,” I whisper to Leo, and he nods in agreement.
“You are.”
“Hey, you’ve been drinking too.”
“I’m not attempting the Viennese waltz on the main street, though, am I?” he says, as I step backward and almost into the path of an oncoming Vespa, whose driver swerves and honks.
“Olive,” he says grumpily. He grabs my hand and pulls me across the street and back down the alleyway toward the hotel.
I’m glad he’s walking me, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to taunt him the entire way.
“Come on,” he says, tugging on my hand.
“Come on,” I say mimicking his tone.
“Shut up,” he says, laughing.
“Shut up,” I tease.
Then he stops and turns to face me, and his look is of amused frustration. He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “You,” he says, “are trouble.”
I laugh, reaching down to remove my shoes as we near the stairs down to the hotel. There’s no way I’m attempting them in heels.
“Leo,” I say as I clutch the rail and we descend the stairs.
“What?”
I look ahead to the lights strung up across the alleyway, the restaurants spilling out onto the street.Don’t say it, Olive. You’re drunk. It’s a stupid thing to say. Don’t say it.
“Is there any way you could afford it?!”
“What?” Leo says, stopping in his tracks.
“Nicky’s,” I say, trying to reach for his hand but missing as I sway. I focus, trying to speak clearly. “Like, could you speak to the bank? Put a business plan together. I don’t know. I’d do a really good rate. A private sale?”
Leo looks taken aback.
“Kate says you should buy it if you love it so much.”
“Who’s Kate?” he asks, his brow furrowing at me.
“My sensible friend,” I say, tapping the side of my head. “Ginny feels bad for you and thinks I shouldn’t sell it at all. But if I do, couldn’t you buy it?”
“If?” Leo stiffens, pulling his head back. “If?”
“When,” I say, shaking my finger at Leo, with a kind of sobering panic. “I meanwhen.”
Leo looks somewhere between frustrated and slightly embarrassed as he says, “I know what that building is worth, Olive. So, no. I can’t afford it. No bank would lend me that. And I could look for partners, but I’m just a sous chef with no one to vouch for me...” He shakes his head. It’s too big a thing.
I restart our walk toward the hotel.
“It was just an idea,” I say.
“Don’t think too much about me. I’ll be fine,” he replies evenly.
Leo bites his lip, looking ahead and then back at me, and in that moment, I hold myself together as tightly as I can, despite the booze thundering through me, despite the cocktail of feelings bubbling up inside me, despite Leo standing right here, on this beautiful street, the heat of the night willing me to fall into his arms. For comfort. For lust. For all of it.
I’m staring at him. Longingly. And I can’t help myself.
