"Vico. Hanna. Can you come over here?" Suddenly, someone calls for us.
It's Pietro.
Abruptly, we lift our heads. I remove my arm from her shoulders, and she steps back, fussily adjusting her hiking pants. I don't need to see more to know that she also feels caught.
"Are you both okay?" Pietro shields his eyes from the low sun and glances over at us.
All good, I want to reply, but my throat is so dry that I can't even hear my own croak.
Hanna hurriedly smooths her T-shirt. "We'll be right there," she says, her panicked gaze briefly meeting mine, and then she marches ahead.
I follow her, my legs feeling shaky as I struggle to clear my mind.
We almost kissed.
And I would have liked it.
Twenty yards ahead, Hanna reaches Pietro. His eyes dart between her and me.
I catch up to them and clear my throat, trying to sound as normal as possible. "What's going on?"
"Hanna has a visitor," Pietro responds with a scrutinizing expression.
A visitor? Who could be visiting Hanna here?
Hanna looks confused too as we round the corner of the house. She's walking so fast that I can hardly keep up with her. And then, just before the courtyard comes into view, I see her tense up, every muscle in her body tightening.
Seconds later, I understand why.
Standing by the entrance is a blond man with a full beard, holding an enormous bouquet of red roses.
