Page 113 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

George and Bianca had been back in Bologna a few days. It was now the first of July. He had fittingly locked in an early flight on Independence Day and had mixed feelings about it. Of course, it was time to get out of her hair and figure out what life might look like back home, but he wished they were parting on better terms.

She’d apologized a thousand times for Rome, as had he, but what she’d said, the thing about hating the part of her that was him, still divided them like the glass partition that separates inmates from their visitors at a prison. No matter what either of them said, they couldn’t get past it. He didn’t want to leave like this, but if he stayed, it could get worse.

As far as his return to Arizona, he’d been searching online for volunteer opportunities. There was an Adopt-a-Senior program available. The Scottsdale Fire Department was looking for “older adults” to educate the public on various programs, such as fire prevention and hiker safety. The Scottsdale Historical Museum was looking for a docent to welcome and orient visitors.

Though nothing had seized him yet, he liked the idea of helping people. What better purpose could there be?

That’s what was on his mind as he wandered around the old town, looking for a gift for his housekeeper. A piece of jewelry? A bottle of balsamic vinegar? A box of artisanal chocolate? Beyond lost in this grid-less city, he started to fish out his phone to consult the GPS when he heard his name.

“Signor Briggs.”

George twisted toward the voice. “Hi, Corrado.”

It took him a moment to process the encounter. He’d spent entirely too much time thinking about how the man could cause a disaster in Bianca’s life. Now, he stood there before him.

The two of them, man-to-man.

There were indeed such things as coincidences, but there were also moments in life that came together due to more than chance.

“How’s your visit going?” Corrado’s English carried a British air to it. He wore clogs, black pants, and a white chef’s jacket with his name and the name of the restaurant embroidered on the chest. His short brown hair was slicked back.

“We had a nice visit around the country.” George gave an extremely brief overview of their trip, then asked, “You ready for the big night?”

“I hope so. And I hope you’ll be joining us. I haven’t heard from Bianca.”

“She hasn’t said anything about it lately. Besides, I have an early flight back home the next morning.”

A nod. “Well, I hope you had a nice stay.”

George let out a grunt. “Very nice.”

This felt like an opportunity, his only chance to say a few things to the guy who had his teeth into Bianca. Corrado was the main reason she might not ever come home, and though he knew he was exposing himself to more trouble, he couldn’t not seize the moment.

He took a long breath, came up empty when he tried to second-guess himself, then said, “She’s special, Corrado. One of a kind.”

Corrado furrowed his brow. “I know.”

George held up a finger. If there was an alpha male here, it was him—a father who’d do anything for his daughter, even risk further fury. “But she’s also fragile. Especially right now. It’s clear that she has feelings for you, but I think she’s confused. While I have you, I can’t help but ask that you not lead her down the wrong path. Sure, you two might have something going, but you need to consider what’s best for her. I’m worried she’ll stay for you, and frankly, I think it could be the biggest mistake she ever makes.”

Corrado pinched his chin, clearly agitated but trying to keep his composure.

George kept on. “She’s going to realize that she abandoned the life she worked so hard for, and it’ll be next to impossible to get it back if she doesn’t return home within a year. You understand?”

Corrado dropped his hand from his face. “How would she feel about you telling me this? Warning me off?”

“You and I both know the answer to that. Naturally, I’m hoping you won’t tell her what I’ve just said. I know I can’t force you not to see her. I’m just trying to help guide her along the right path and asking for your help. Man-to-man.”

“The right path,” he mused. “I suppose that’s an objective consideration.”

“I’ve got sixty-five years of experience. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

Corrado nodded a few times, then cut George a look. “I need to get to work.”

“Good luck with things,” George said as he turned to leave.

A half hour later, George walked into the bookstore. The last time he’d come close to a Sandy encounter was when she’d hidden from him. He’d hoped that she might have found her way to giving the two of them a chance, but his hopes were cinders in a dying fire now.

She sat at the computer behind the counter, glasses on, her hair scraped into a ponytail. When she looked up, she visibly sighed, which wasn’t a good start.