Chapter 22

Since Ren orderedme to leave the farm, I decide to head into town. I need a distraction and sitting at the house having a staring contest with Razzo won't cut it. I haven't seen Ren that pissed since the day I took the house from him. I feel bad I took my anger out on him, knowing he was only trying to help.

I figure I can burn off this negative energy by walking around and thinking about how best to handle the Barbara situation. Dinner at a cute little café might ease the tension. I wish Harrison or Lynnette were here so I could wander around with a companion. I've kept in touch with them since they left Italy, but life has moved on for both and neither will be returning to Italy this summer.

It's probably best I'm alone. I'm not exactly the greatest company. Thinking of Harrison, I send him a text.

Me:Ciao H. How's the toilet business?

Harrison:Summer! How's my favorite ex-pat doing?

Me:Italy is incredible. I'm currently licking hazelnut gelato.

Harrison:How is the scary old Italian lady?

Me:Nonna is pushy but lovable. She's trying to set me up with her grandson, but he's friend-zoned me.

Harrison:The one who wanted to murder you when we came to the house? Lol.

Me:Nah, we're good now. Sadly, my heart is still single.

Harrison:Any news on smoking hot Daniella?

Me:Haven't seen her, but I'll ask Lorenzo about her for you.

Harrison:Yes! Tell her I can remodel her whole bathroom with Kohler. Women love that shit.

Me:Erm…okay.

Harrison:I've got an important meeting to get on. Keep me posted! Arrivederci!

Me:Arrivederci, H! Sell some more toilets so you can come back!

I tuck my phone in my purse and find myself standing in front of an art gallery. I woefully throw my half-eaten gelato in the trash before wandering into the minimalist room with glossy dark wooden floors and white walls. I immediately fall in love with the bright colors splashed across the canvases.

"Buongiorno." A blonde woman smiles at me behind a desk.

"Buongiorno." I return her smile, walking around the room, studying the paintings. "Parli inglese?"

"Sí," she says.

"Are you the artist?" I ask her over my shoulder while I stand in front of an impressionistic painting of olive trees on a hillside. I love how the artist mixes dabs of blues and greens with terracotta browns and burnt sienna.

"Ah, no, but he is local. Are you interested in this piece?"

"How much…" I stop and remember my lessons with Nonna. "Quanto per questo?"

"That one is ten thousand seven hundred euros."

My eyes widen as I stare at the painting. "Ten thousand?" I squeak out. "That's like twelve thousand US…"

"Sí, we can ship to the US if you need us to. Would you like to see the artist's studio? He hasn't used it in a while, but there might be something in there to pique your interest?"

The thought of peeking into an artist's private sanctuary makes me uncomfortable, especially when I don't intend to buy.

"Oh, no, that's okay. Do you have any prints?"

The woman looks disappointed as she points to a bin. "The artist has some prints over there."

I thumb through the bin and find the olive one. "Cuanto questo?"

"Forty-two euros. I have a framed one for sixty-two."

I gaze at the picture, drawn to the landscape. It looks like the old tree Lorenzo showed me on the farm. I haven't bought much since I've been here except for the dresses, and looking at this picture makes me happy. "Okay, sí, I'll take this one, with the frame."

She rings it up and I tuck the picture wrapped in paper inside my messenger bag. I wander back out to the street, and stand on the corner deciding on a place to eat while tourists and locals mill about, returning home from work.

"Summer? What are you doing here?" Dr. Angelo Bianchi walks toward me. I didn't even realize I was close to the clinic.

"Oh, hi, Dr. Bianchi. I was off work early, so I thought I'd head into town and do some shopping."

"Please, call me Angelo. I think we're past formalities, no?" He looks up at the apartments above the art gallery. "I thought you were waiting for Lorenzo. He lives here."

"Really?" I look up, surprised by his revelation. God, that would have been embarrassing if he had caught me wandering aimlessly outside his apartment. "Ha, no, I was trying to decide where to go grab something to eat."

"Have you tried the pizza? Troppo buono. We go and eat, sí?"

"Okay…sure, why not."

"Why not." He nods his head and places his hand on my lower back. "This way."

I don't really want to go to dinner with Angelo Bianchi, the bikini bull fighter, but I also don't want to eat alone, and pizza does sound perfetto. The good news is, I'm no longer dazzled by his good looks or his charm, especially when I'm attracted to another man who kissed me in the rain like it was his last dying wish.

We sit outside a quaint little restaurant with twinkling lights, around the corner from Lorenzo's apartment. A violin player softly strums in the back corner.

"This place is always busy, so it's good we got here early."

"It's amazing! Do you live near here?"

"About a five-minute walk from here. Cittadina…small town." He smiles and picks up the menu.

A server bustles over and plunks down a bottle of Chianti and two glasses, before lighting the candle on the table. "Wow, they don't waste time, do they?"

Angelo chuckles. "It's standard here to have their house-made wine with the pizza. So, how do you like our quaint little village of Tuttoscano so far?"

"It's absolutely lovely. Exactly what I imagined when I booked my trip."

"Are they working you too hard up at the azienda olivicola?"

"Oh, no, the Rossis have been so kind."

"Have you been to the bigger cities like Florence? I studied and practiced there before I came back home."

"Not yet, but I will. I'd like to visit the seaside, too."

"Ah, yes…Viareggio is very nice. I could take you there on your next weekend off?" He smiles, perfect white teeth flashing. An image of him in his banana-yellow bikini briefs standing in the surf immediately plays like a movie in my head. Nina comes running into the water like she's on Baywatch. A big wave crashes into her and takes her down. Dr. Bianchi laughs and helps her back up and they kiss passionately.

"Ciao…Summer? Where did you just go?" He waves a hand in front of my face.

"Sorry, I was thinking about something." I tune back into the present, and give him a lopsided smile. "Wouldn't you want to take Nina there instead of me?"

"Nina? Uh…" His brow furrows like he's trying to remember who Nina might be. The server interrupts before he can answer, and writes down our pizza order.

"So, tell me about—"

"Che stai facendo?" Lorenzo approaches our table, looking murderous.

"Ceno con il tuo amante Americano, cosa ne pensi?" Dr. Bianchi smirks.

Did he really just say he was having dinner with Lorenzo's American lover? Oh god. My eyes bounce between the two men. Lorenzo is practically snarling at Angelo. He turns away from his cousin, his steely gaze falling on me. Even though we parted ways a couple of hours ago, it feels like days have passed. I feel terrible for snapping at him earlier.

"I've been trying to find you. You're not answering your cell."

"Oh…" I dig my phone out of my purse, seeing two missed calls from him. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was on silent."

"Do you mind if I borrow your dinner companion for a minute?"

"Um, of course." I furrow my brow. Why is he so upset? I try to convey with my eyes this is not what it looks like. It's dinner between two people who bumped into each other on the street and happened to be hungry, but he's not catching my drift. Angelo rolls his eyes and excuses himself from the table. The two men exit the courtyard of the restaurant and cross the street.

The server drops off our pizzas and refills my glass. The two men gesture and argue while people walk around them on the sidewalk, casting curious glances. The pizza smells so damn good, and the violinist seems aware of the thick tension in the air because his notes turn into a more staccato rhythm. I pick up a slice and bite into it, not even realizing I'm doing it, absorbed by Angelo and Lorenzo's rapid-fire Italian argument across the way. Lorenzo clenches his fist and looks as if he wants to punch Angelo in the face. I wonder why they dislike each other so much. They are famiglia after all.

Lorenzo ends the quarrel by abruptly turning away from Angelo. He quickly walks down the street until he disappears from view. He doesn't glance in my direction once or wish me a buona notte. I'm not surprised, though. I was such a jerk to him earlier. I want to throw some euros down on the table and run after him and apologize, but something tells me now is not the time.

By the time Angelo returns, I've demolished my pizza. He looks surprised when he stares at the empty plate.

"Sorry, I was hungry. Is everything okay?"

"No need to apologize bella, it is me who is sorry. My cousin certainly has a flair for the dramatic." He testily cuts his pizza with a fork and knife. "So…when would you like to go to Viareggio?"

"Oh, uh…" I gulp my Chianti, stalling. Shit, what would Cara do at this moment? She would tell him to go to hell. "I'm not sure—"

He smiles. "Next weekend, then. Molto bene."

I want to go to Viareggio, just not with him.

We finish dinnerand Angelo offers to have me come over to his apartment, which I promptly decline. I pull out my phone to call a cab, but he insists on driving me home. He revs his yellow Ferrari, which matches his swimsuit, and take the road out of town like we're on the Autobahn. I grab the door handle like a lifeline and triple-check my seatbelt. Angelo looks over at me, grinning.

"Uh, could you please keep your eyes on the road?"

"Do you not like fast cars, Summer?"

"I do…I just like my body parts attached better. So, is yellow your favorite color?"

"Actually, it's red. Why do you ask?"

"Never mind," I mumble, closing my eyes, scared I might puke on the plush leather interior.

He pulls into my parking area, gravel spraying. I take a moment to gain my equilibrium before unfastening my seatbelt and scrambling out of the death trap. Angelo follows me to my door. I turn, holding out my hand, not wanting him to think this is an invitation to come in. His chest bumps into my palm and his lips quirk.

"I had an enjoyable evening with you, Summer."

"Yeah, it was great. You're a nice friend, Angelo. Thanks for dinner."

"Summer…" He takes my hand and presses it to his chest. I wiggle it out of his grasp.

"Okay, well, thanks for the ride home," I say, backing up until my back hits the wall.

He puts a hand against the door, caging me in. "Aren't we more than friends, Summer?"

He licks his lips and leans in, making his move. Instincts kick in and I grab his arm and twist it back, shoving him into the side of the entryway, and stomp on his foot. He curses and stumbles while I reach for the door handle. Marcos, my self-defense trainer, would be so proud.

"Okay, thanks for dinner! See you later, Angelo!" I unlock the door in record speed and quickly shut it in his face. My chest heaves while I take a moment to catch my breath, adrenalin sprinting through my veins. I can hear him curse in Italian on the other side of the door and wait for the sound of his tires to crunch over gravel. I exhale a deep breath. Jesus, that was close.

I lock the front door and run up the stairs to my bedroom and call Cara, telling her about my night.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You told Lorenzo you want to be more than friends, but he's not ready for that step even though he admits he's attracted to you, and now hot Dr. Angel wants to sweep you away for a weekend to an Italian seaside town? I don't feel sorry for you."

"Dr. Devil had sex with my coworker after flirting with me all night!"

"He's Italian, what do you expect? They're hot-blooded and virile."

"You really need to stop reading Damien's GQ magazines."

She laughs. "I'm just trying to get you to relax about this whole situation. Yeah, the doc is a total slimeball, but he's offering to take you away for the weekend. Go have fun. Insist on staying in a separate hotel room and be a nun."

I picture myself trying to use self-defense moves on Angelo all weekend. No, thank you.

"But I don't want to weekend with Angelo. I want to go with Lorenzo." I put the phone on speaker so that I can talk to her while I hang my new framed picture. I pick up a hammer and nail.

"But Lorenzo hasn't asked to go away with you. He's also made it clear he just wants to be friends."

"Semi-clear. He's been sending me some strong I-want-you vibes."

Cara snorts. "If I remember correctly, the whole point of this trip was to find something you're missing in your life."

"Yes, but…" I eyeball where I want to hang my print and place the nail on the wall.

"Be adventurous, Summer. Go screw your brains out with the hot doctor who wants you and forget about the brooding olive farmer."

"But that's the problem. I can't forget about the brooding olive farmer."

I hit the hammer on the nail hard. It goes in smoothly, but a sizeable chunk of plaster around the nail crumbles. "Oh, shit," I mutter, staring at the hole in the wall I created.

"Are you okay?"

"I just took a chunk of plaster out of the wall. How the hell am I going to cover this up? My picture isn't that big."

"Hang something light over it, like a towel or something."

I survey my room, grab a t-shirt off the end of my bed, and drop it over the nail.

"What do you think I should I do about Barbara? Call the police?"

"I don't know. Technically, she's done nothing illegal," she says.

"Unless I report my car as stolen."

"You don't need Barbara getting arrested," Cara reasons.

"I know. God, what a mess."

"I can ask my friend Tony. He specializes in that kind of stuff." She sighs. "Listen, I've got an appointment I have to run to. Hang in there, Summer. I'll try to stop by your place after work today and sort it out with Babs. Remember, you're in control. If you don't want to be friend-zoned by the grouchy olive farmer, then go over there and say something. Call me tomorrow. Ciao, babe."

"Arrivederci, not ciao."

"Whatever. Miss you, love you."

I hang up with Cara and try another area on the wall to hang my picture. I gently hammer the nail into the plaster, and it sticks. I mentally give myself a high-five and hang the painting. I step back, admiring the brushstrokes of color, when a chunk of the wall comes loose. The plaster and picture crash to the floor.

"No!" I shout and rush to the print, picking it up out of the debris. Miraculously, the glass didn't break. I gape at the wall. How the hell am I going to fix this? It's not like there's a Home Depot down the street with all my DIY needs. I groan and fall back on my bed. "Can't anything go fucking right today?" I rub the gold necklace at my throat between my two fingers and say a prayer to the Italian gods, whoever they are.

Cara's right, this trip was supposed to be an adventure. I need to put my big-girl panties on and take life by the horns. Nonna's words reverberate in my head. You're always ready to leave. I sit up and grab my phone and text Fiore.

Me:Fiore, it's Summer. Sorry to bother you and I know it's late, but can you tell me your brother's apartment number?

I hit send before I chicken out, immediately regretting asking her. What if she's with Lorenzo? What if she screenshots the text and sends it to him? What if—

Fiore:3E

I grab my purse and call a cab, hoping it's not too late in the evening to show up on his doorstep. I need to tell Lorenzo that I want, no, I need to be more than friends, and it can't wait until morning.