The slightest of smiles emerges from Benito’s lips but he remains otherwise glum. “I’m surprised you’d enter into any such deal with my father, knowing how quickly he revokes his word.”
I cock my head at him and smile. “I said I’m taking care of it.”
Benito runs his hand through his hair. “So that’s it, then? I’m not going back to London?”
“Not if you don’t want to,” I say. I take a step closer and place my hand on his shoulder. “You deserve a chance to figure out where your heart truly lies.”
Benito casts his eyes into mine. They glow. My heart pumps warmth through my chest, my stomach, my head. “And what about you?” he asks. “Don’t you deserve the same?”
I think about the Beachwood house, DC, the coffee shop on Santa Monica, the cozy Italian place in Foggy Bottom, lunches at Anita’s, Benito, La Musa. “I’m working on that too.”
My stomach stirs as Benito maintains his eye contact. After the long journey, I feel disgusting. I’m hungry, I’m tired, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like he doesn’t see all of that, like he’ll always look at me with the same mix of understanding and awe. He runs his hand through his hair again and his forearms flex. I resist the urge to reach out and grab his arm. He’s here now, but it wasn’t all that long ago that he was content to skip off to London and leave me forever.
“Your room’s still yours,” Benito says, his voice quiet. “Assuming you want it.”
“I do,” I say. “For now. Thank you.” There’s so much I want to say to him and yet, no words come to mind. Do I owe him an apology? Does he owe me one? Does it matter? “What will you do now that you don’t have to go to London?” I ask.
Benito takes a deep breath. “Well, considering I’ve only known that for a few minutes, I don’t have an answer yet.”
I performatively roll my eyes. “You mean you don’t make all your major life decisions on a whim like I have lately?”
I hear the scribble of pen against the countertop. Sutton gathers up the signed contracts and walks over to me. She grazes her fingertips over Benito’s shoulders, and I feel a twinge of jealousy. “Ben, did you tell Izzy about the bigfiestathis Friday? The party?”
“Festa,” Benito corrects her. “And I didn’t have the chance yet.”
Sutton turns to me. “You’ll come, obviously. Practically the whole town is. It gives Benito the chance to formally announce his resignation and endorse Raffaello as his mayoral replacement, and now we can announce the development deal as well.” Benito’s eyes flash to me.
“I never say no to a party,” I say. Sutton smiles ever so slightly but follows up with no details. “Um. . . just tell me when and where.”
Raffaello clears his throat. “Here. Tomorrow. 5 p.m.”
“I’ll be there,” I say. I look to Benito but his eye contact has expired. There’s an awkwardness and I feel like it’s because I’m still standing here.
I start to walk out and rest a hand on Benito’s shoulder. “See you around?” I ask. He nods. Or at least I think he does. I walk out of the house to find food because I’m starving and I don’t want to spend another minute in the kitchen with Sutton and Raffaello. I put on my sunglasses and hope no one recognizes me as I trek out into the center of town. But then again, let them see me. Let them see Izzy Rhodes looking tired, disheveled, sweaty, and hangry. It’s the truth. It’s who I am right now in this moment. I don’t need to hide.
Chapter Twenty Two
I take care as I get ready the next evening. I blow-dry my hair with the hope that when the humidity inevitably kicks in, I’ll be left with only a few bouncing waves. I pick out a light blue linen dress and a pair of flat strappy sandals. Functional enough to help with setup as I promised Anita yesterday, but presentable enough to make a good impression on the people of La Musa.
Also, cute enough to spend the whole day with a guy I’ve hooked up with a couple of times.
When I walk downstairs, dozens of people in white shirts and black slacks are shuffling in and out. Staff are busy readying the house, carrying long buffet tables through to the back and setting up a welcome bar in the foyer. I walk through the house to the kitchen, where Anita is directing a full crew. It takes several moments of standing among the chaos before I even have a chance to let her know I’m here. “Anita,hi,” I say, when there’s finally a pause in the clanging of pots and rapid instructions.
She looks up at me, still holding a knife as she shows a chef how to chop. “Good. You’re here.”
“Yes, although it looks like you have everything under control.” Another crew of workers files through, carrying large buffet-style trays.
“Hardly,” she says, waving away the chef and getting to work on mincing garlic. “I’m behind. Would you mind setting the tables outside? Everything you need is out there, and make sure the centerpieces are evenly spaced.”
I glance outside warily. The fearful look in all the hired help’s eyes make me question if I’m up to the task, but there’s also no world in which I refuse. “Of course.”
I head out back where it’s refreshingly less crowded. In addition to their already ridiculously long dining table, a few others have been set up as well as a spattering of smaller high-tops. I pick up a stack of napkins and start folding them.
“Izzy?”
I lift up my head and see Benito walking toward me, carrying several bouquets of flowers. “Hey,” I say. The door to his bedroom has remained tightly shut since I’ve been back.
He sets the flowers down on the main table. “You’re a bit early.”
