The force of my smile causes my eyes to squint in delight. “You’re kidding.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “And I had no idea why she hated me so much. For weeks, I wondered what I did to offend her so badly.”
I shift my whole body toward him, fully invested in his story. “So, what did you do?”
“The next time she came to the market, I marched straight up to her and said, ‘Why don’t you like me?’ And she finally explained everything.”
“What was it?” I’m on the edge of my seat, totally enthralled.
“Her mother owned a floral shop. One day, she brought a rose to school for every student in our room. And she saw me throw mine in the trash as soon as class was over.”
I gasp dramatically, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Roberto! You didn’t!”
“I did. I picked it up with a tissue and tossed it in the garbage on my way out.”
“If you liked her so much, why not treasure it?”
He blinks. “Well. I’m deathly allergic to roses.”
My shoulders start to shake as he launches into his deep, rich laughter.
“It was a risk to accept it in the first place, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I didn’t think she saw me dispose of it.” He shakes his head. “She hated me for months when it was a simple misunderstanding. When I told her the truth, she felt a little guilty.” He pauses to lean in closer to me, like he’s sharing a secret. “So, I asked her out on a date.”
Winking mischievously, he says, “She forgave me, and the rest is history. I just had to muster up enough courage to seek the truth.”
Why do stories of the past always seem to hold so much meaning in the here and now?
Sometimes, when I’m with Gio, there’s this shared sense of confusion. Like a comment one of us made doesn’t make sense. Perspective changes everything, and it’s clear that whatever happened between us in New York two years ago wasn’t what I thought it was…Gioisn’t who I thought he was. Maybe it’s time for both of us to gather courage in the name of honesty and new beginnings.
In the meantime, I wonder if I can seek a little bit of truth on my own.
“Hey, I have a question if you don’t mind. If it’s too personal, I totally get it. I probably shouldn’t even be asking.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know why Gio and Cara broke up? He seems really hung up on her, and I guess… I guess I was just wondering what he was like with her.”
Roberto looks confused. “Cara? Gio didn’t… When did he say that?”
“Well, sometimes when he’s sleeping or tipsy, he accidentally calls me Cara. Kind of a blow to my ego, honestly. Actually, do you have a picture of her? Or know her social media handle? I need to see what I’m up against. It’s a girl thing.”
His lips part in what’s clearly shock. “Gio called you Cara?”
My face heats. “Um, yeah. Embarrassing, I know. But my curiosity is getting the better of me.”
A wistful smile spreads across Roberto’s face and a light sheen coats his eyes. Shit. Did Caradieor something?
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s silly, really.”
He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes at his eyes. “No, Tessa. It’s not silly at all. His mamma and I hoped one day he would feel…” He trails off his English and switches to a soft-spoken string of Italian. He looks nostalgic in a way, almost like he’s recalling pleasant memories.
Seemingly remembering that I don’t speak the language, he stops talking and gives my shoulder a squeeze.
I frown. “I’m sorry I’m making you sad.”
“You’re making me happy,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. “But you need to ask Gio. He should be the one to tell you about… that.”
“Oh.” I can’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Okay. I, uh, will.”
