‘Because I’ve been sitting on something all day and I need to talk to you about it.’
Lucia’s interest was piqued. ‘Is it about the school?’
‘No. No.’
Lucia could imagine him pacing on the spot. ‘What is it then?’
‘If you had the opportunity to meet that man –the kisser– would you want to? Even now, despite all this mess?’
Lucia chewed her lip. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because he has sent me a message.’
diciassette
‘Actually, twenty of him sent me a message.’ Francesco reached across to take hold of Lucia’s free right hand, noting how cold she was from the walk back to the school. ‘Let’s get you upstairs.’
Once in Lucia’s apartment, they sat close together on the window seat overlooking thecalle, with Foscari in Lucia’s lap.
‘There are how many messages?’ she asked a second time, shaking her head incredulously.
‘Around twenty.’ He opened his DMs. ‘Maybe thirty now. I’ve avoided it since lessons started this morning.’
‘This is just madness.’
‘It’s your choice, Lucia. I can just block them all, and we can close this chapter, or . . .’
‘Or I can break the cycle.’
‘Cycle?’
‘Of my life.’ Her green eyes seemed to glow anew. ‘The reason I accepted your invitation to the ball was to let loose and have some fun. For once! I wanted to take my mind off all the drama with the school and Gatti.No. I’m curious. I owe it to myself.’
He looked to his inbox. ‘No pressure, Lucia.’
‘Show me.’
With a patience still laced with his lingering guilt, Francesco opened each message one by one, and they read them together. It was confronting, but they went slowly and methodically.
Most messages were replies to the post from fraudulent would-be suitors. Others were blatant clickbait. Some Lucia immediately vetoed for their inaccurate commentary on the events of the evening in question.
‘Is that a penis?!’ Lucia suddenly erupted, and Francesco quickly deleted it.
‘There will be more of those, I guarantee.’
‘One of themanyreasons I don’t have, don’t want, and don’t engage with social media.’
There were messages, however, that indeed had potential, and this further ignited Lucia’s curiosity. Francesco emptied his inbox except for a final curated list of four.
‘What wouldyoulike to do?’
Lucia closed her eyes.
Edoardo’s papers. The school dilemma. Vittorio Gatti’s surveillance. Tiziano’s promise. Benedetta’s offer. La Commedia’s night-time mystery show. Francesco’s mishap. Her accident.
She could controlnoneof it.
It was all tangled in a mess of loose ends and hanging on words. She wanted to believe people and their good intentions, let alone their promises, but nothing was for certain. Really, this opportunity was much the same.
