“It’s stunning, right? It’s going to show beautifully in Milan.”
Her neck swivels toward me. “Milan? He’s showing this in Milan?”
My eyebrow quirks at the way she phrased her question. “Yes… It’s on the dress I designed? The one we’ve been working on together?”
Her eyes slowly widen as she comes to some sort of realization. “He didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“This was his nonno’s final piece. The last thing he worked on before his death. He left it unfinished. Gi’s been saving it for something special.”
My stomach twists, a heavy weight settling in my core. Seeds of guilt sprout inside of me. Giovanni insisting we alter it as little as possible makes more sense now. My mind flickers back to when I first asked him about the appliqué—what did he say again?This is a personal project.A pang of regret hits me when I think about how I pressured him into using it. I hadn’t realized just how personal it was.
I chew on my lower lip. “Oh. Um, no. He didn’t share that with me.”
Lucia nods, but she doesn’t look upset. In fact, she looks quite pleased, a smile spreading on her face. “He must really…” She trails off. “Well, I’m happy he let you use it. Excuse me. I need to talk with Gi. See you tonight!”
Had I known it was his nonno’s last piece, I never would’ve asked for it, let alone forced him to alter the straight edge. My eyes dart to the textile recycling bin, where Giovanni keeps scraps before dropping them at the municipal environmental department every few weeks.I wonder…
I walk over for a closer look, and sure enough, some of the small pieces of fabric we cut from the appliqué for my fan shape sit in the box. Before I can talk myself out of it, I quickly retrieve the tiny scraps from the bin and carefully set them in my purse. I don’t know what I’ll do with them, but I can’t let them be tossed. Not when I know what this meant to him.
I’ve experienced a lot of emotions at Giovanni’s shop—anger, embarrassment, frustration—but never the unsteady feeling that’s currently inching up my spine. The idea of spending more time with him tonight lingers, and I’m surprised by how much I’m looking forward to it.
* * *
Looking down at my hostess gift for the millionth time, I try to find fault in the box of gourmet truffles before I press the buzzer for Lucia’s apartment. I visited three different plant stores before realizing that Lucia already has a whole human to keep alive, and I probably shouldn’t add anything else to that list.
I fidget with the bow on the truffle box, smoothing it down. I want to make a good impression—not forGiovanniof course, but for Michael and Lucia.
It’s not every day that I get invited to dinner. With Mom and Daniel back in Ohio, Esme’s intramural volleyball league schedule, and Peyton’s regular dates, I barely get invited anywhere at all. I’m nervous. Not just for the dinner, but also my decision surrounding Giovanni’s offer. I know what I want to do, and I know what I have to do… and those are at odds with each other. But I’d rather wear beige for eternity than never see my own goals come to fruition.
This dinner will be a good test for us. Can we make it through without arguing, or will the silverware go airborne beforedessert? If everything goes well, maybe we’ll be able to make it work in Italy after all.
I take a deep breath and push the call button.
Lucia’s voice comes through the speaker. “Come on up!”
“Mamma! Is she here? Ziiiiioooo, Tessa’s here!” Michael’s voice comes through loud and clear in the background, followed by the clanging of pots and pans.
A wide smile spreads across my face at the familiar sounds of chaos at home. I need to call my mom—it’s been two days since we last talked, and she’s one of my best friends.
The loud door buzzer startles me. I jog up the three steps and let myself in, then turn left for the stairwell. My stomach lurches at the idea of taking an elevator, so I climb up six flights instead.
The smell of roasted garlic tells me I have the right door, and the scent’s so delicious that my stomach rumbles. Before I have the chance to knock, the door swings open, and Michael eagerly greets me, bouncing on his toes.
“You’re here!” he shouts, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside.
“I am,” I laugh.
The apartment is small and welcoming. The living room walls are covered with a vibrant tapestry, and the furniture looks like you could sink into it and fall asleep. Everything seems socomfortable. I love it.
“I want to show you my room. Let’s go.”
“Let her breathe, Micheletto,” a deep voice calls from the kitchen. I turn to see Giovanni wearing an apron, stirring a big pot of something on the stove.
Giovanni speaks quick Italian to Lucia.
“God, Gi, no I willnotpoison Tessa, you psycho!” she yells, and Giovanni goes beet red.
