He smiled and set his hand on my neck. It was such a natural thing for him to do, I didn’t even notice it until he squeezed to get my attention. I’d been staring at him.
How could I not?
He was a walking, talking, gorgeous piece of scenery that seemed to break from the land and be set free—just to get tourists to visit and take an interest in the history and culture of Italy.
Centro Storico, the old city, wasn’t that long, maybe a mile long from start to finish, but it was packed with oldpalazziturned into hotels, trattorias, wine bars—Orvieto was famous for their white wine—and places to shop. The streets were narrow, and alleys were named after noble families from the medieval era.
Fortebraccio included, which Naz told me had morphed into Fausti somewhere along the line.
Naz pointed to a beautiful palazzo, which resembled more of a castle. “Maurizio Fortebraccio was here during medieval times. That was his home.”
“That’s really cool,” I said. “I feel my history in New York, but it only goes back a short time. You must feel like you’re walking in your ancestors’ shoes here.”
He shrugged. “I know who I am, even when I am flying above my ancestor’s footprints. I carry them with me.”
“That’s an excellent thing to know, especially when so many of us don’t.”
“You are Italian, no?”
“Italian on my dad’s side. Irish on my mom’s.”
He touched my nose, where I had three freckles there that darkened in the sun. My sister had them too.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “We got those from her.”
“Pieces of her to carry with you, ah?”
I never thought about it that way, and in that moment, I cherished the dots, like she had left them for me to always remember who she was to me. Too bad those dots couldn’t lead me to her too.
Looking around, I sighed. This place was a place to remember.
It seemed like Naz maybe understood my train of thought, because he said, “You do not take pictures.”
“No, not often.” I smiled when he made a face—go onit seemed to encourage. “Pictures are meant to capture lasting memories. A moment in time when everything feels right.” I paused. “Or they’re supposed to. Things have changed some, but…not all memories stay good. I don’t like looking back on something that was so right in the moment and feeling how much it changed. How bad it got.”
We walked for a minute, and I window-shopped along the cobblestone street. I wanted to buy my sister something for her new places, the one in Italy and the one in Florida. I’d never done anything like that before. Buy something for someone as a gift. Unless takeout counted.
“What do you think about that planter?” It was mosaic, and maybe Lucila could start a garden. She was good at all that.
“Sì.”
I could find something for Minnie, too, and even buy Lilo one of the medieval flags. I laughed at that, and then I gasped right after. Naz put his arm around me and pulled me to him so fast, I fell into him some. He had his camera out and facing us. I didn’t even have time to smile before he took our picture.
“Let me see that!” I went to snatch it from him, but he held it away from me, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What? Let me see!”
He turned it towards me, and I took it from him, pulling it close to my face, like I needed to see my freckles up close or something. The thing was…Nazzareno Fausti just took a picture with me. I wanted it to be good, which fed into my belief in not taking pictures, because one day it might turn bad.
I sighed.
It wasn’t all that great.
I looked like I’d been struck by Naz the lightning god.
I was falling into him, but it almost looked like he was pulling me close, and I was taken off guard by his…overwhelming electricity.
Without asking, I scanned through his photos. At one, I held the phone up to his face and he pushed it back some, setting his hand over mine, pulling the phone away so he could see it better. The picture was of the both of us at the rooftop restaurant with the views of the Colosseum. It was the moment after he came to stand next to me while the sun went down. Rome was below and behind us, the Colosseum in shape, but it seemed like a fire burned between his body and mine.
He was looking down at me, and I was looking up at him.
