‘I’m trying,’ she said, with a gentle smile.
A tap on the glass pane of the front door made her turn suddenly.
And there was Alex.
Lucia walked over and opened the door, and with the breeze that wafted in from thecallecame the heady kick of his cologne. It weakened the tender spots behind her knees.
‘Buongiorno,’ she said, leaning into the doorframe. ‘Did you . . . sleep well last night?’
He nodded. ‘I did. Again. Three nights in a row now.’
She closed her eyes and exhaled a short breath of relief. ‘That is incredible.’
Cocking his head to the side self-consciously he asked, ‘Anyone else in?’
‘Just me and the big guy.’ She dropped to collect Foscari, whose muzzle extended in Alex’s direction to demand a pat.
Alex obliged, but his gaze stayed on Lucia. ‘Can I take you to lunch? It’s Saturday. I’d really like to get you out of here. Away from thecalle.’
The prospect ofanytime spent with Alex was welcome. She beamed and replied, ‘I would love that.’
Foscari nuzzled his way further towards Alex, nearly pawing his way into his arms. Alex accepted Foscari and positioned him mid-air so that he could look into the dachshund’s eyes. ‘Do you mind if I take Lucia out today? Is that fine by you?’ Foscari yapped and his tail wagged with glee. ‘Would you like to come too?’
Lucia giggled. ‘Don’t start a trend you’re not willing to continue.’
With a flick of his head to thecalle, Alex said airily, ‘Who said I wasn’t willing for this to continue?’
They locked eyes for a moment, exchanging a look that acknowledged what was between them, but also the potential for more, for hope, for dreaming.
‘That depends on what you mean bythis?’ Lucia said, collecting her bag and jacket from the welcome desk.
Setting foot onto thecalle, Alex stopped and turned, his eyes sweeping across her face, up to the building behind her, then down to Foscari in his arms. ‘Bythis, I mean everything.’
Lucia smiled and said, ‘Then everything it is.’
Alex set Foscari down and accepted the leash Lucia offered him. Connecting it to Foscari’s collar the two set off, leaving Lucia to lock up.
Just as she was slipping the key into her bag, Lucia caught sight of the fresh green and red-leafed buds of the bougainvillea in the large pot beside the door. Finally succumbing to the pull of the spring, the mapped lines it trailed up the soft pink of the building’s façade had begun to reawaken.
quarantadue
Lucia watched Alex interact with the man he had introduced to her as Filippo. Alex seemed to come alive; his face flushed with joy and warmth as the two shared banter and in-jokes, with Filippo eventually retreating to the kitchen to prepare their order.
It was an incredible turn-on to see Alex so animated and social. Sonormal.
Lucia disliked using that term, but the normality in the exchange between the two men over the counter was so incredibly reassuring. Alex existed outside of the bubble she knew. He had connections to other people, other places, and this realisation opened him up a little more to her heart.
‘Filippo was one of the friends I made when I started high school here. After the . . . accident,’ he explained in a whisper. ‘And now he feeds me every now and then. When I’m awake, of course.’
The sound of shouting coming from the kitchen in the nose-pinching Venetian dialect met their ears. Lucia laughed, her eyes on Alex’s. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘Lunch.’
Alex gave her a wry sideways smile. ‘I haven’t done anything yet. And in any case, Filippo is the one delivering the goods.’
With a paper-wrapped parcel in hand, Alex led Lucia and Foscari through the backstreets of Dorsoduro.
