Page 107 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

“Me, what?” It was a quiet morning, only a few others passing by—a woman pushing a cart of groceries, another wrapped in a scarf, chatting away on her phone.

“You hit me with your watch!” She held it up in the air.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there.”

Harold shot down the steps and came onto Via Giulia. Sandy waited for him on the cobblestones.

He rushed toward her. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” He looked for signs of blood, but all he saw were signs that she wanted to stab him with the closest dull object.

“I’m fine, settle down, but what’s wrong with you, throwing a watch off the balcony? And you look like hell.”

He turned away, highly aware of the passing pedestrians staring at him. Even the freaking construction workers were gawking at him.

Sandy sighed. “Are you okay, Harold?”

As he turned to answer, he realized what he was wearing. His freaking underwear.

“Oh, my God.” He covered himself, now knowing exactly why everyone had been staring at him. “Gotta go.”

He raced to the door, jammed in the code, then rushed back upstairs. He put on sweatpants and a T-shirt, then went back onto the balcony. He slowly peeked over the railing and saw that she was still standing there.

Sandy held up the watch again. “Forget something?” She snapped and pointed at the ground. “Get your ass down here.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. He hurried back down, forgetting his shoes again, so he crept carefully over the cobblestones.

“Spill it, Harold. What’s going on with you? What did Alice do?” In an instant, he felt like he was speaking with his mother, and a flash of anger flared.

“Where have you been?” he snapped. “I needed you.”

“What do you mean, where have I been? Working. And working. Right underneath you.”

He hated how weak he sounded. “I went to the tango place; you weren’t there. I tried to talk to you.”

Her eyes softened. “It’s been busy.”

Sandy almost hugged him before remembering she wasn’t a hugger. “What happened? Out with it.” For God’s sakes, why did people come to her for advice? If that wasn’t a sign for the end of the world . . .

“It’s over,” Harold said.

“You and Alice?”

A nod. His cheeks quivered. He definitely needed a hug, but Sandy had to be in the right state of mind to touch people.

“Out with it, Harold. I can’t read your mind.”

His eyes reddened. Tears rose up.

Dear God, what am I doing? she asked herself.

“I made a play, tried to get her back. Told her I loved her.”

“Hold on, didn’t we talk about playing hard to get?”

“Yeah, but we also talked about you helping me. And then you disappeared. I had to do it on my own. Surprise, surprise, it didn’t go well.”

Her hackles went up. “This is my fault?”

He shook his head as a tear fell.