Marco didn’t know if he was imagining it, but there was something odd about Stella’s response. Perhaps it was her lack of eye contact. She opted to fiddle with her cutlery rather than look back at Marco. He sensed a slight change in her energy as she spoke.
‘I hope everything goes well. You deserve to be cared for.’ Smiling, he almost believed himself.
‘Grazie, Marco.’ Stella winked across at him. She picked at a crust of bread resting on the side of her plate. ‘What about you? Anyone special in your life?’
Marco wanted to admit that he’d been so distracted by Stella’s arrival that no other woman, no matter how amazing, stood a chance. Instead, he sighed and a sheepish wry smile formed in the corner of his mouth. ‘Me?No. Too busy with the move, the bar, looking after Papà and Ignazio. The right one will come along when it’s meant to happen. When the stars align.’ His chocolate brown eyes met Stella’s across the table. ‘I’m a patient man. I can wait. There’s no rush for trueamore.’ His gleaming eyes flickered in the candlelight. Steadfast and strong, he sat there quiet and calm.
Breaking the silence that had settled over the table, she said, ‘That’s a wonderfully romantic sentiment. I’m sure it will happen when it’s meant to. Some things just take time.’
‘Rome wasn’t built in a day,no?’
‘So, I’ve heard.’ She reached out again and squeezed his hand, a gesture that only added fuel to the fire burning within him.
The moment, however, was disturbed by the waiter, who arrived with their coffees. ‘Ecco signori,’ he announced, setting them down.
Marco instinctively dropped a teaspoon of sugar into Stella’s coffee, gently stirring it for her. Catching himself, he laughed. ‘Scusami! I’m just so used—’
‘—to doing it for me.’ She smiled. ‘Great service, no matter where you are in Rome! Perhaps that should be your motto for the bar?’
‘No!No!’ He tried to wave the moment away. ‘Auto—’
‘—pilot.’ Stella giggled against the lip of her cup as she took a sip.
Marco had come to know her eating rituals intimately over the past weeks. Preferring to eat hertramezzinicrust-end first was an early discovery that had made Marco smile. Just like the time he picked her scorched hazelnut pattern; always plucking it from the top of thebiscottino, setting it aside to eat once the rest of the biscuit had been consumed. Her preference for red candied fruits over their green counterparts. And the way she always licked the milk foam from her morning cappuccino from her lips in the same way – from right to left, without fail.
But she didn’t need to know that. It was his own little private indulgence.
Taking stock of the moment, there in Rome, in the quiet little nook of that quaint restaurant, Stella asked, ‘Do you believe in destiny, Marco?’
He brought the espresso cup to his lips. It lingered there for a moment, allowing him to choose his words wisely. Confidently, he downed his coffee in one, all the while holding Stella’s gaze. ‘I wrote the book ondestino.’
quindici
I’m thinking about you right now.
Stella held the note aloft, letting it catch the breeze that trickled through her open window. Her lips bloomed into a sheepish smile before she returned it to her pillow where she’d found it.
She loved these little surprises. Moments that reminded her of how thoughtful Vincent was, and how even the smallest gesture could bring joy to the day. It didn’t take much, just a few words. But they meant so much to her.
She texted him:Just found your note. Very sweet.
After a moment, Vincent’s reply arrived.Wasn’t lying.A beat later, he added,Sorry about needing to work late tonight. Pietro’s running behind on the advertorial spread. On deadline. See you tomorrow.
She sent back a kiss.Don’t work too hard.
With Vincent out for the night, Stella and Marcella decided to stay home and cook dinner. They were definitely long overdue for a proper girls’ catch-up, just the two of them.
In the kitchen, Stella filled Marcella in on where things stood with Vincent. She regaled her with anecdotes about his attentiveness and protective nature, his sweet notes and letters, but also couldn’t help reminding her of his earlier concerns about Marco.
Truthfully, Stella wanted a second opinion on the situation with Marco and the mural project, and Marcella’s was one she respected wholeheartedly. She had felt completely comfortable with Marco during their shared dinner in that little restaurant, and in the moment she hadn’t given Vincent’s concerns a second thought. But now, after the fact, Vincent’s suspicions taunted her, and doubt about Marco’s true feelings for her had started to creep in. What if shehadread the situation wrong and was unfairly leading Marco on?
‘Well, you are a very sexy lady,no?’ Marcella said, at which Stella scowled, peeling potatoes over the sink. ‘But, if I’m honest, I’m not sure about Marco.’
Stella frowned. Marcella not having an opinion was basically unheard of. ‘That’s not going to help me right now.’ Stella’s uneasiness grew with each new potato she disrobed from its dirt-laden skin. ‘C’mon. Think! Do you think it’s possible that Marco could, maybe, possibly, have a thing for me?’ She squinted behind her question.
‘Maybe?’ Marcella, who was dusting the benchtop with 00 flour, clapped her hands together to clean them. ‘But hecouldalso be gay.Boh!’
‘Gay?’ Stella pondered this for a moment, mindlessly picking at the dirt under her fingernails.
