Where you at, babe? I’m ready to see you already.
I bite down hard on my lip, then glance at my friends. They’re out cold as an Italian soap plays on the TV. Despite the jetlag, the adrenaline from Wes’s text is suddenly keeping me upright. Could I slip out for a bit? Just to say hi?
There’s a faint knock on the door, and I get up to answer it. It’s the airport courier. I hand him the tip Mari left outbefore quietly rolling her luggage into the entranceway. They haven’t stirred once during the entire exchange, and soft snores are now coming from their direction.
My phone vibrates again.Sora?Wes texts, along with a pin of his location at a nightclub in Sorrento.
I take another look toward my sleeping friends, then to the door, weighing my options. This trip is supposed to be all about taking hold of the reins on my life, especially the ones tied to my romantic future with Wes. Anya and Mari would both be going out of state for college, after all, and I need something good to look forward to. My next move was never in question. Quietly, I shower, change, and do my makeup before slipping out of our hotel room, careful not to let the door slam behind me.
The hallways are quiet and dimly lit. The entire B and B feels like it’s asleep aside from a haze of light coming from the lobby. Nico is standing at the concierge podium when I enter, his head down, forehead scrunched. A mostly empty cup of espresso sits beside him. He doesn’t have the cheerful ease he had earlier. The opposite—he seems worried. But then he looks up and quickly rearranges the small stack of papers in front of him, sliding them partially under a thick book. His face brightens, all signs of distress instantly erased. “Buona sera.”
“Buona sera.” I place a ten euro note on the podium. “Thank you. For helping with our bags earlier.”
“Ah. Not necessary. It was my pleasure.” He opens the book he stacked on top of the papers, pretending to read,and I wonder if he really thinks I’m that oblivious.
I lean over the counter, trying to peek at what he tried to cover up. “Light reading?” I tease as I eye his monstrous history book.
“Yes. I’m enrolled at university in Rome.”
I’m taken aback. I’d stupidly assumed he lived here full time. “That’s quite the commute.”
“Well, I usually take the summer off to help my mom during busy season. I wouldn’t typically be studying, but I was accepted into a fellowship for fall.”
“What kind of fellowship?”
“European history.” Nico chews on his lip, like he’s debating whether to share more. “I was one of two people chosen out of twenty-five hundred and I don’t want to disappoint them, so I really should be preparing.” Nico nods his head toward the corner with the ladder. “But as you noticed, there’s quite a lot of work to be done.”
Heat floods to my cheeks. He’s pricklier than he was before, and I’m ashamed of how I acted when we checked in. I was so caught up in my own disappointment and unrealistic expectations that I hadn’t thought about how my words would land. “So earlier I was a bit—how do I say ‘irritable’ in Italian?”
“Irritabile?” Nico does the close translation and bunches his lips to the side. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Yes, that.” I swallow. “Can we have a do-over? I’m Soraya. Sora.” I extend a hand. I pray he thinks I’m funny. It’s my one out. “I’m a much kinder person when I’ve had some sleep.
He eyes me for a second. A breeze blows through the open patio door, swirling through the space between us, and I actually feel time stand still. My fingers start to tingle. Is he really going to leave me hanging? But then his shoulders relax, and he meets me in a handshake and it’s not weird or new or uncomfortable. “Nico.” He lowers his voice. “I have a feeling you’re always a kind person, even when you are irritabile. Your friends seem kind too.”
“They are.” I want to say Mari has the biggest heart, or that I envy Anya for being so comfortable in her own skin, but I manage to refrain from word vomiting.
Nico nods. “I meant what I said—I think you will wind up loving it here. Just give it a chance.” Then he says, eyeing my bag, “Heading out?”
“Yeah.” I stand straight up and refocus. “Going to meet a friend.”
“Need directions?”
“All good.” I hold up my phone.
“Hold on just one second.” Nico escapes to the back office. I can hear him rummaging around just as another breeze pours through the lobby.
The papers Nico had been trying to conceal flutter free, and I rush to collect them. I smooth them in my hands and quickly put them back under the book so he doesn’t think I was snooping, but not before my eyes fall on a line of words in ominously bold red text. Nico still isn’t back, so I take a few steps away and type them into Google Translate.WARNING: PRE-FORECLOSURE. My mouth goes dry.Between the peeling paint outside, Nico trying his best to fix things up inside, and this letter, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to piece things together. I tuck my phone away when I hear Nico approach.
“Here. In case.” Nico hands me a business card with a number scribbled on the back. “It’s the number guests can text for extra towels or restaurant recommendations or general questions. Use it if you need anything.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I squirm, guilty at having seen something I was never meant to see. Should I say something? But what would I say? Instead, I grab the card and turn toward the door. “Good night, Nico.”
“Arrivederci, Soraya.”
And then I leave him in the lobby of this quaint B and B, with my friends quietly snoring upstairs, to embark on my mission to make Wes Mason my boyfriend.
CHAPTER 6
