Page 13 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

Bianca’s mouth fell agape. “She’s still around? I’ll have to go by and thank her for ruining my life.”

“How’d she do that?”

“She told me I’d write a book. There I was, innocent Bianca getting ready to go to grad school, work my way to building a practice. And she had to drop that bomb on me. Writing wasn’t even on my radar, but once she said it, it was like I couldn’t put the idea back in the box.”

“I believe it. First time I went to see her, she said I’d never leave Italy. And here I am.”

Later, Carol said, “Speaking of Corrado . . . I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

Each time Bianca heard his name, her heart kicked. “He’s in Paris now, isn’t he? I see his food porn on Insta.” She knew damn well he was working at L’Ambroisie, but she wasn’t about to admit it.

“No. He’s here. In Bologna.”

“What?” Her chest seized. The violin music he used to play while she studied ran through her head.

“He’s about to open up a new restaurant in the Hotel Minerva, going for a Michelin star. He was in the paper last week. One of Bologna’s own, coming home.”

“A Michelin star? Good for him.” She could taste one of the spectacular frittatas he used to make when she’d stay over at his place.

“Is he married and all that?” Bianca asked, loathing the overly curious tone in her voice.

Carol bit back another smile. She was having too much fun. “You really don’t keep up with him? He’s single, a bad breakup in Paris last year. Probably half of why he’s back. You should call him.”

“No. I couldn’t. I . . .”

Carol exhaled dramatically, then said something in rapid-fire Italian having to do with love.

“Slow down,” Bianca said.

“Have you forgotten your Italian?”

“A lot of it.”

Carol continued to speak Italian but dumbed it down. Bianca did her best to keep up.

“You haven’t lost everything,” Carol said. “I know a good tutor. He’s cute too. You’ll be back to normal in no time. So, Corrado. Are you going to call him? I have his cell.”

Bianca reddened. “No. I have to focus on me for a while.”

Carol waved her hand through the air. “Oh, please. Famous last words.”

Bianca almost didn’t say it but did anyway. The wine had removed her filter. “I don’t even want him to see me right now. I feel so ugly.”

“What? You look better than ever.”

“Right. All this carbo-loading since I’ve been here, on top of what the last ten years has done to me. Ugh.” Bianca couldn’t imagine seeing him this way.

“You need to stop,” Carol said. “You look fantastic. I’d kill for your curves.”

Hating the way she seemed to be searching for pity or compliments, Bianca swiftly thanked her, then: “More importantly, I still need to find a place to live. I only have the Airbnb another week.”

Carol crinkled her eyebrows. “You changed the subject on me.”

“Maybe. But seriously, I’m not relationship material right now.”

The seconds passed by like pounding heartbeats. Yes, Bianca was going to leap back into everything Italy—except for him.

“Fine, fine,” Carol said. “I might have a place for you, on Via Giulia, one of my favorite streets in the city. Do you know it?”