Two hours later, I know more about this diagnosis than an average person. I’ve even sent Reid a list of the best fertility clinics to look into all over the world. If Zalea decides she wants kids one day, then I want her to be in the best care.
I also found an Instagram page that belongs to a chef whose wife was diagnosed with PCOS, too. He uses food to balance her hormone levels and she ended up getting pregnant. When I see that he created not one, but two cookbooks full of the recipes he made for her, I do a quick search and find a bookstore not too far away that carries both books in English. I call them and ask that they put them to the side for me.
Zalea needs to see that she has options, and that there have been successful stories even with a PCOS diagnosis. Maybe this is how I break down that wall she keeps reinforcing. Maybe this is how I get her back.
Her room door slams shut, and a few moments later I hear the elevator bell ding. She’s leaving to go see Paolo at some museum and I hate that I can’t do anything about it. She’s not mine, not in the way that counts.
It was clear last night that he’s attracted to her, and I’m sure she’s not oblivious to it. The question is, will she want him more than she wants me?
THIRTEEN
ZALEA | FLORENCE
My mind is still spinningby the time I make it to the Uffuzi Gallery twenty minutes late to meet with Paolo. I expect him to already be inside, studying his assigned painting, but I’m surprised to find him waiting for me near the entrance.
“Lea,” he calls out, grinning widely. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
I smile apologetically as we flash our student ID cards to skip the line. “I’m so sorry!” I say as we head inside. “I lost track of time, and then I couldn’t figure out which bus to take, so I walked all the way here.”
“It’s okay,” he flashes me a smile before looking me up and down appreciatively. “It was worth the wait.”
Heat rises to my cheeks but I quickly look away and walk around aimlessly, unsure how to take his compliment with grace. Aside from Gabriel, I never get complimented on my looks, only ever on my surfing. It’s a strange unfamiliar mix of feeling flattered and uncomfortable at the same time.
“Which painting did Giovanna assign to you?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Can you guess?”
He hums, looking around the room. “It must be a Botticelli.”
I raise my brows in surprise. “What makes you say that?”
“Botticelli’s art makes people restless,” he says with a shrug. “And you haven’t stopped circling this room since we got here.”
I stop in front of the Primavera, a small smile playing on my lips. “Why do you think his art makes people restless?”
Paolo walks over to stand next to me, eyes roaming every inch of the painting. “Just look at it,” he says softly. “It’s almost like any second now, one of these people will step right off the canvas into this very room.”
I tip my eyes away from him, focusing on the painting instead. It’s a garden frozen in time with flowers everywhere. I don’t know who the people in this painting are, but a woman stands in the middle looking calm, while everyone around her is busy.
“A painting in motion,” I say quietly, mostly to myself.
“Si,” he agrees with a nod.
“What about you, what were you assigned?”
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck before walking across the room and stopping in front of a Leonardo da Vinci piece.
I stare at the plaque. “The Annunciation?”
He nods, staring at it with laser focus. “This painting is about the moment before creation. Before everything changes.”
“Hmm.” I cross my arms and thoughtfully tap my finger on my chin. “Sounds like the perfect piece for an artist going through an art block.”
He chuckles again. “I agree. This is one of the paintings he made early in his career, before he wastheLeonardo.”
“Do you think that’s why Giovanna assigned it to you?”
He nods. “His style is very different here, not as confident as his later work. I think she wanted to show me that even the greatest of artists have questioned themselves at some point in their career.”
