The days passed slowly, lessons were shared, and theVenezia, Ovunque!project continued to gain traction. Over the week her disappointment about Alex having left her in the morning had faded away, and she could see very clearly the help and security he had provided her that night. It wasn’t just that Alex had confronted the intruder and stopped what would have been a devastating, life-altering experience. It wasmuchmore. It was the sense of safety he had created for Lucia, allowing her to sleep after the attack, and the trust she had been able to place in him. And that was more than she had been able to do for anyone in a very long time.
But all her attempts to reach out had been futile.
She caught him a few times exiting La Commedia, but on each occasion he politely brushed her aside with excuses of outings and appointments. Early on Thursday morning, true to form, she spotted him leaving with his usual posy of paper flowers. And while covertly following him again was tempting, she figured if he didn’t appreciate her bailing him up at his front door, he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it at thecimitero.
It was that Saturday morning, with Foscari nibbling his breakfast by her feet and the moka bubbling away on the stove behind her, that Lucia thought she would give it one last go. Checking her watch, she figured eight was early enough to catch Alex, so she crossed thecalleclinging to her last shred of hope.
She decided on a different, more dignified approach than usual, hoping that it might inspire a different reaction from Alex. So instead of her usual call up to the windows for all thecalleto hear, she used the knocker to bang smartly on the door.
And it worked. A few moments passed, but Alex eventually arrived at the door. By the look of his wide eyes and raised brows, he too was surprised by Lucia’s knocking.
‘Is everything ok, Lucia?’
‘It feels like you’ve been avoiding me this past week since the break-in. I’d like to apologise for questioning you . . . about the way you left me. Also I want to say that I appreciate what you did for me. It . . . meant a lot. And again,mi dispiace tantissimo.’ And while it felt like she had to push the word from her lips –sorry– she was proud of herself. Lucia hadn’t allowed herself to be voluntarily vulnerable for quite some time, and perhaps Alex sensed this too because he let out a long breath as if he’d been holding it in.
‘Grazie, Lucia. But everything is fine between us.’
She couldn’t help but notice how, as he spoke, his eyes flicked away from hers. Even if he said he had accepted her apology, she didn’t feel it was accepted in spirit. So she added, ‘Alex, can I please invite you to dinner? Next Sunday night. We can have a week of space to clear the air, if that helps?’
Alex’s gaze shot up to Lucia’s apartment window. He took a deep breath, as if this offer required considered thought, but eventually his eyes met hers.
‘Ok. I’ll come.’
Lucia was startled by his acceptance. She wasn’t sure why he suddenly seemed so distant, and deep down she’d expected him to decline. Her mood brightened. ‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘Really. I’ll see you next Sunday.’
‘I’ll give you some space until then.’
He worried at his bottom lip, glancing away. Then, turning his cinnamon eyes to her green ones once more, he said, ‘Thank you for understanding.’
Lucia kept her promise, and for the week that passed she kept her distance from Alex. In any case, she and Mariella were busy with lessons, while Francesco and Stefano advanced theVenezia, Ovunque!project, which had garnered promising attention and was finally pulling in some modest income with online subscriptions. It had just thirty-two days to prove itself.
This week’s project experience involved an intimate walking tour with their students through the lagoon’s lace-making island, Burano. Once Lucia and Francesco had wrapped up their final preparations over the phone on Sunday evening, Francesco turned the subject to Lucia’s dinner plans with Alex.
‘Just keep a level head. You’ve apologised. You’ve let him have some space. Now, just be yourself.’
With her phone perched in the crook between her ear and her shoulder, Lucia laughed. ‘You know how hard this will be for me.’ With both hands free, and despite the awkward angle of her head and neck, she managed to open the paper bag containing their dinner. ‘Whatever happens, happens.’
‘I’m proud of you, Ciccia,’ Francesco said before blowing a kiss into the phone.
‘Grazie, Checco.’
Ending the call she tossed her phone to the bed. Foscari’s ears pricked up and he raced up the grammar-book staircase and pressed his wet nose to the glass. Without looking, Lucia knew what he could see. ‘He’s coming, eh?’ And Foscari barked.
She shook out her hands and took a deep breath, then walked to the window. She pushed it open and looked down onto thecalle. Alex looked up, and she said, ‘It’s open. Three shoulder shoves.’
He nodded.
Lucia met Alex at the stairs with a smile, which he reciprocated. She leaned in and initiated a duo of cheek kisses, which, though they hadn’t ever done this before, he didn’t resist.
‘I’m glad you could come.’
‘Thank you for having me.’ Alex lifted his nose slightly. ‘Caffé, at this hour?’
Lucia stifled a laugh. ‘This is your nocturnal breakfast time, isn’t it?’
Alex tilted his head questioningly. ‘It is.’
