“No way!” Giac says. “I love Roma.” He breezily offers euros to Giuseppe to pay for both of our drinks without even acknowledging the gesture. “I studied archeology and classics at university. I used to spend hours at the Forum. I still go on digs in the summers.”
“That’s so cool,” I say. “I wish I had you as a tour guide.”
Giuseppe sets our matching cappuccinos in front of us. “Prego,” he says.
“Grazie,Giuseppe,” I say.
“You know,” Giac says, gesturing toward an outdoor table for us to sit at, “I was about to head back to Perugia, but I don’t have other plans today. I could come with you if you’d like.”
“Really?” I ask. My heart rate picks up. An entire day with Giac. I picture myself clutching on to him on the back of a Vespa as he veers through the crowded city streets, the edges of my scarf blowing effortlessly in the wind. “That would be amazing.”
Giac follows me to the train station where I’m set to meet Benito for the 9 a.m. train to Rome. Lucia booked us rooms in the Centro Storico area, so I’ve packed a change of clothes and a few other essentials into a small duffel we’ll drop at the hotel before we head outto tour. I give Giac the rundown on our itinerary and he excitedly scans it as we wait on the platform.
“Are you really wearing that?” I hear a voice ask. I turn and see Benito walking toward us. “You look like Audrey Hepburn.”
He’s carrying his own small duffel, dressed in a blue linen button-down and well-tailored khakis. “Since when has that ever been an insult?” I ask. Benito smirks but his face drops when he sees Giac standing next to me. “Oh,” I say. “Benito, this is Giac. Giac, Benito.”
“The mayor, yes,” Giac says, shaking Benito’s hand. “I’ve heard much about you.”
“Giac teaches at the school in town,” I say.
“Ah,” is all Benito mutters back. Polite.
“Giac offered to be our tour guide. He knows a lot about Roman history and architecture.” There’s a brag in my voice, and I make a mental note to play it cooler.
“Wonderful,” Benito says, though his tone sounds sarcastic. He turns to Giac. “Great to have you join us.”
Giac smiles back at him genuinely. “Looking forward to it.”
The train pulls into the station, and we find seats onboard. I sit on one side of a four-seat row while Giac and Benito face me on the opposite. Giac, perfectly content, looks out the window while Benito fidgets with his shirt cuffs.
“Izzy, what made you want to come to Umbria?” Giac asks. “La Musa doesn’t have many American tourists.”
I flit my eyes over at Benito. “So I’ve heard.” I repeat the same romantic speech about study abroad, about wanting a slower pace of life, needing somewhere safe and quiet to start over. Giac nods, accepting my answer, but Benito snorts. “What?” I ask.
Benito scans my face like he’s waiting for me to flinch. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“That’s the truth,” I say, giving him a pointed stare.
“Typical politician,” Benito says. “Reframing the truth to fit your narrative.”
My heart twists like I’ve just been stabbed. I glare at him again. Giac looks back and forth between the two of us. “You’re a politician?”
I continue glaring at Benito. This was not his story to tell. How dare he out me to Giac? “I assumed he knew because you two are suddenly such great friends,” Benito says.
Giac looks back and forth between the two of us, not really overly invested in the answer to the question, more curious about the sudden tension. “I. . . used to be a politician,” I say. “But I’m not anymore.” Benito lets out a half laugh. “What?” I snap, my tone curt.
“No, no, nothing.” Benito raises his hands. “Clearly you’ve changed.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Say it.”
“Say what?” Benito asks.
“Whatever it is you want to say, out with it.”
Benito adjusts in his seat. “Nothing. I would just advise against getting too attached to Izzy, Giac.”
I heave in a breath. “What isthatsupposed to mean?”
