“Sorry,” he says, suppressing a smile. “Did I scare you?”
“Yes, I thought you were one of the ghosts that haunt this place.”
Benito stares at me quizzically. “This house has no ghosts.”
“It absolutely does,” I say.
Benito loosens his tie and walks over to the cupboard for a glass, filling it from the tap next to me. “What’s with the suit, 007?” I ask.
The right side of Benito’s mouth twitches upward. “You think I look like James Bond?”
My cheeks flush. “No,” I say quickly. “He’s just a guy who wears suits. Often in Europe.”
Benito smiles. “I was at a dinner. Official mayoral duties.”
“Ah,” I say. I haven’t seen Benito since Valeria’s revelation the other day. Meaning I haven’t had time to give him shit about Valeria’s revelation the other day. “Working hard on ousting all the women-owned businesses in town.”
Benito’s eyes flit up to me. “What?”
“Valeria told me,” I say. “In your little development deal, the businesses that will have to close are mostly women-owned. I think it’s interesting that the people who stand to lose the most in this so-called revitalization of La Musa are the women who’ve been keeping it afloat in its downturn.”
Benito looks at me severely. “I’m doing everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, Izzy. Believe me.”
I look into his eyes, which I instantly regret, because there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that convinces me he’s being truthful. Like with me, he’ll always be truthful. My mind flashes to lying next to him in that bed in Rome, the heat of his body warming my cold, dead heart. It wouldn’t take much to kiss him, a thought intrudes. I could just lean in and put my mouth on his.
“Izzy, thank you.” I hear Giac’s voice, but my eyes are still fixed on Benito’s. I watch as his pupils grow to the size of a pinpoint. I turn to see Giac standing in the open doorway to the kitchen.
“Giac,” Benito says, but he’s still looking at me. “How nice to see you.”
“You recognize him by his voice?” I ask.
Benito’s nostrils flare. He’s in no mood for me. “There aren’t many other young men in La Musa who are old enough to drive but too young for laugh lines,” he says softly.
“Giac and I just had dinner,” I say, feeling like I owe him an excuse, though I’m not sure why.
Benito nods. He takes his glass of water and starts toward the kitchen exit. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he says. “Good night.”
He walks past Giac, looking back at me one more time before he leaves.
“Good night,” Giac says, grinning affably as ever. “I should be going.”
“Unless you want a nightcap?” I ask. I walk over to my cupboard and pull out a bottle of grappa.
Giac agrees and I pour. We take our glasses outside, since the night is comfortably breezy and not too cold. I sit on a love seat on the patio and Giac sits next to me. It’sdark, dark outside. My city person sensibilities are still caught off guard by the sheer number of stars visible in the sky, the whole universe reflected back at me. It’s easy to feel insignificant but also easy to understand that one tiny movement won’t rock the entire galaxy off its axis.
I lean into Giac, my shoulder flush with his. I cross my legs so my top leg is resting over his thigh. I lean in ever so slightly, waiting for his lips to meet mine. After a moment where he doesn’t take the hint, I lean in another centimeter forward, then another, slowly moving toward him until my lips are only a breath away from his. Giac pulls away.
Giacpulls away.
“Oh god,” I say. “Sorry.”
“Izzy—”
I stand up, draining the rest of my drink. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“No! No. Don’t be sorry,” Giac says. He waves his hands fervently.
“I’m a freaking perv, the internet was right.” I move toward the door, but Giac follows.
