Balance.
That was the key to life, if anyone asked me.
Dinner was fresh and delicious, as always. I had lost some weight since I arrived. Not because I stopped eating, or didn’t have enough, either. I ate double, or more, what I did in New Orleans. But I was walking more, and the fresh food was void of preservatives. I felt better, physically, than I had in my entire life. I stopped for gelato after, Pisolino on my heels, and instead ofgoing straight back to the apartment, I decided to walk along the shore.
I didn’t put my earbuds in. The sound of the water was peaceful. A susurrus that seemed to be the sea whispering its many secrets to the shore. A few of the guys from thetavola caldahad the same idea as me and were walking together. The winker winked at me again, and I wondered if I should put my earbuds in to scare him off.
All my life there was something…peculiar about me. And when I blocked the world out and listened to music, I really got into it, just like I had on the bus. I lip-synched like I was the actual artist, but no sound came out. I added hand motions, and, well, it creeped most people out for whatever reason.
One girl in high school had told me it seemed like I was casting spells on them.
That made me laugh.
The guys looked at me.
I laughed even harder.
They went in another direction.
Pisolino rubbed himself against my legs and purred.
“Ready to go home?” I asked him.
He ran ahead of me, so I took that as a yes. I watched him disappear into the darkness, thinking how I had never told him I was taking him with me when I left the island. Deep down, I wondered if he would have a better life here or there. Yeah, I took care of him here, made life a little easier, but he had probably been born here, and the island had been taking care of him since then.
Sighing, I followed behind, glancing in the windows of the different shops. A girl with a scarf in her hair rolled pasta in one. The one next door, three women made cannoli. My eyes were still on them, even if my feet had started forward, and my body collided with another.
“Oh!” we both seemed to say at the same time.
Then we both laughed.
“Aria Bella?” the woman asked.
I squinted at her. “Scarlett?”
“Ari!” She pulled me into a rose-scented hug.
I held her back. I had met Scarlett a few times, and I had always been starstruck by her. She was a famous ballerina and almost too gorgeous for words, especially with more curves than I recalled. Her auburn hair was cut shorter than I remembered, too, but everything else seemed the same, except for the silver in her hair. She was still pale, with the same knowing jade eyes. She had the same eyes as Eva, except in a different color. The same eyes Nonna said I had in a different color. Hazel.
The man next to her. I didn’t remember him, and I didn’t want to stare, but…
Scarlett grinned at me. “Ari, this is my husband, Brando Fausti. Brando, this is Aria Bella. Her Nonna, Mrs. Elisabetta Bella, used to work for my parents.”
He nodded like he already knew this, then he nodded at me. He said nothing, but damn…he was gorgeous and intense, and the entire time, he kept his hand on his wife protectively. Talk about gentlemanly.
“Nice to meet you too,” I said, even though he hadn’t said it. I did that sometimes. Reacted to things people were probably thinking before they could give voice to the thought.
Brando glanced at his wife. She smiled at him and turned back to me. It was like she had said something to him.
“Walk with us?” she asked. “We’re out for a late dinner.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
After Scarlett and I caught up on the general state of life, she cleared her throat.
“You’re here, so it all worked out getting you from Naples to the island?”
“Yeah, it was all fine. Thank you so much.”
