Marcella couldn’t make eye contact, so she turned away from them to reply, ‘Sì.’
‘Augurito you, too,allora!’ Marco raised his glass.
‘Basta! It’s early days, just a few weeks. My breasts aren’t even tingly yet.’
‘Scusami?’ Marco choked, blushing.
‘Yeah, what he said.’ Stella gestured to Marco across the table, equally as confused.
‘When I’m in love, my breasts always tingle. It’s their way of telling me, “Pazza!Ti sei innamorata di questo!” I can’t explain it. They have a mind of their own.’ She grabbed at her chest, throwing her hands up in frustration.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Stella asked.
‘I wanted to see how things went, you know? Before anything got too serious. Plus, you’ve had enough going on. The Vincentdisastro, work and everything.’
‘I couldn’t be happier for you. I wish you told me, but I understand why you didn’t.’ Stella toasted to Marcella’s news. ‘We should invite Giacomino to my anniversary party Friday night. Would you like that?’
Marcella turned a deep rose red. ‘I would love that,tesoro.’
And so it was settled; Giacomino would be Marcella’s plus one.
trentaquattro
A few days out from Christmas, it no longer made sense to Stella to mark the celebration of her first anniversary in Rome with a party. With everyone busy this time of year, preparing to travel and taking leave, it felt indulgent to pull people together and steal them away from other plans.
But Marcella, never one to back down without a fight, continued to insist. And yes, as threatened, it was to be a themed costume party.
‘Let’s see,eh?’ Marcella waited in the living room for Stella to make her grand entrance.
‘What do you think?’ Stella emerged dressed as Audrey Hepburn inRoman Holiday. Her hair pinned back and her fringe parted to the side, she paired a short-sleeved white cotton shirt with a midi-length blue skirt. Tied around her waist was a thick vintage blue belt she had found in a second-hand store. Completing the look, she opted for a red silk handkerchief tied around her neck. She didn’t just look the part, she owned it.
‘Stellina,che bella!’
‘Here.’ Stella passed Marcella her phone. ‘Can you take a pic for me to send to Vincent?’ She grumbled under her breath then snapped to a perfect pose for the shot. ‘I’m so over this keeping-up-appearances game.’
‘Almost there,cara. You can do it.’
‘And who are you?’ Stella asked, pointing quizzically at Marcella’s costume. ‘Are you an ancient Roman hooker?’
‘Me?No, no! I am a vestal virgin.’ She stood seductively, allowing the split up the side of her toga to reveal her curvaceous thigh. ‘Sexy,no?’
‘The vestal virgins werevirgins! Right now, you are screaming sex!’
‘Stella, the vestal virgins all had sex!Dai!’
‘The vestal virgins were sacrificed to the Gods by live burial if people evensuspecteddebauchery. Seriously. Look at you!’
Lighting a cigarette, Marcella said, ‘Itisthe world’s oldest profession. The virgins had plenty of time to perfect the art.’
The theme Marcella had chosen for Stella’s party was Iconic Rome, and it was completely open to interpretation. They had pulled the desks from their bedrooms and lay them side by side in the living room, forming one large dining table. Rearranging furniture to make room, they had set the table for nine: Stella, Carlotta, Marcella, Giacomino, Marco, Giuseppe, Ignazio, Giulio and Elda. Finally, the most important people in Stella’s Roman life would be united under the one roof.
A knock at the door startled them.
Suddenly, Stella’s blood ran cold.
Vincent? Could it be? Surely not. What if it is?
There’s the adrenaline again . . .
