Page 44 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

“There’s nothing adorable about it.” The momentum of their conversation was picking up speed in a slightly pleasurable way. “Okay, fine, you choose. You’re about to hop on a plane as the nukes are dropping. A swarm of zombies is pulling at the chain-link fence, close to ripping it open, and yet you’re given one minute to choose a console and game with which you will spend the rest of your life. Hopefully with margaritas and a hammock and all those Jimmy Buffett things.”

Funnily enough, Moira squirmed more than he had. She sucked in air through her teeth as her gaze bounced around the room. A smile appeared and expanded by the second, till finally she said, “Nope. Not doing it.”

“Aha. I knew it.”

Basking in the afterglow of a fun moment, smiles lingering, they both took long sips of wine.

They stayed another hour, chatting about video games and their childhoods and anything else that came up in what proved to be a nice escape—albeit briefly—from thinking about Renzo undressing and finessing his Alice, with each kiss taking her further away from what was supposed to be.

In the morning, Bianca pulled on a robe and found her dad in the kitchen removing everything from the cabinets. “What in the . . .”

He stopped and turned with a Tupperware in his hand. He’d already dressed for the day, wearing his bright-white tennis shoes and another pair of khakis. “You know me. Couldn’t sleep. I don’t think anyone’s pulled out everything and dusted since the Renaissance.”

“How long have you been up?”

“A couple of hours. No big deal. I’m enjoying myself.”

“Yeah, it looks like a ton of fun.”

She found a Nespresso capsule, popped it into the machine, and made a cup. Once the noise had died down, she said, “Can I make you one?”

“Please. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Finding another pod, she said, “I’ve got to get going to meet the fortune—this woman. Can I do anything for you?”

“I’m fine, thanks. This’ll take all morning, I suspect, then I thought I might go down to the bookstore, see if I can find anything.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with Sandy.”

Dead quiet.

“Dad?”

He took a random Tupperware lid and attempted to fit it onto a container. The size wasn’t even close.

Bianca set her cup down and poked him in the back. “Hello in there? Does somebody have a crush?”

He turned back only long enough to show a face sans expression. It was adorable.

“You dog,” she said.

“What? Your old man’s too old to flirt with someone?”

“Of all the ways to fill your retirement, chasing women wasn’t what I’d expected. But I like it. When’s the last time you dated? Decades? Do you know what you’re doing? Do you need help? She’s a live wire, that one.”

Setting down the Tupperware, he turned and leaned against the counter, still trying to keep a straight face, but Bianca could see a young boy inside trying to get out.

This was getting interesting. All the while keeping one eye on him, she reached for her espresso and polished it off. “What are you going to wear? Please tell me you have another pair of shoes?”

“Honey, I’ll be fine, okay?” He couldn’t have hidden his terror behind a stage curtain.

Deciding she wouldn’t embarrass him further, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “In bocca al lupo, Papá.”

“What’s that mean?”

“In the mouth of the wolf. The way they say ‘break a leg’ here. Know what you say in return? Crepi il lupo. May the wolf die.”

George raised his arms to show off his muscles. “Crepi il lupo.”