Chapter 25

It's been aweek since the picnic under the old olive tree, and I've stayed over at Ren's apartment almost every night since. At night, I work on my Granite projects or come up with more marketing ideas for Rossi Farms while he sits with his laptop and watches Italian football. One of us usually gets bored and teases the other until we end up with our clothes off in bed. One incredible week and I've let my heart go to places it's never been before.

I call Cara while I walk out back to the tasting room on my break. "Did I wake you?"

"No, Damien was up making breakfast in bed this morning."

"Aw, that's so sweet! What did he make?"

"Burnt eggs on soggy toast with some kind of weird cream sauce that tasted like metal."

"I didn't know it was even possible to burn eggs…"

"Me neither. It was a struggle to get down, but he was so proud, I didn't have the heart to tell him it was awful."

"Poor Damien. I think I've gained fifteen pounds since I've been here."

"You're such a jerk." She laughs. "Here you are in Italy complaining about the all-you-can-eat pasta and I'm over here wondering if I should go on a carrot stick diet just so my husband will stop cooking for me."

I laugh and sit down on the stone wall that separates the buildings from the grove. The view of the hills overlooking the town never gets old. "Maybe he should try a cooking class?"

"That's actually a really good idea."

"Make it a surprise so it doesn't hurt his feelings."

"Brilliant." She pauses. "Have you talked to your mom lately?"

My mood plummets. "Not since she left me that weird, happy voicemail. I don't even know how to get her out of my condo at this point. Barbara does what Barbara wants to do, no matter who it might affect or hurt."

"Maybe you should come back sooner?"

"I'm hoping she'll move in with her latest flavor of the month and this will all just go away," I say brusquely. The last thing I want to discuss is going back home to deal with Barbara.

"I wouldn't hold your breath. How's the hot and sexy olive farmer?"

"Hot and sexy."

"Have you moved in with him yet?"

"Cara, it's been a week."

She hums. "You're on borrowed time, sister."

I swallow past the knot in my throat at her mention of having to leave soon. "I think I'm in trouble."

"Oh my God, you're pregnant!" Cara screams into the phone.

"What? No, I think…I think I'm falling in love with him kind of trouble," I say softly, twisting around to make sure no one is nearby.

"Oh, Summer…"

"I know."

"Do you know if he feels the same? Have you told him?"

"God, no." I snort. "But he looks at me sometimes like I'm the most perfect olive."

Cara cracks up. "The most perfect olive? Oh geez. I think you've consumed too much olive oil."

"I agree."

"You only have a couple weeks left there."

"I know, Cara," I say irritably.

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger. You knew the deal."

"Sorry, I'm just so tired of feeling like my time here has an expiration date."

Cara stays silent a beat. "I just don't want to see your heart get broken. Whatever happened to the philandering doctor?"

"Lorenzo told him I was no longer available for any future arrangements, including dinners, lunches, coffee dates, or weekenders. I'm pretty sure he went all caveman on him, beat his chest, and said, questa è la mia donna. My woman."

"Look at you speaking Italian like a pro! I'm glad he took care of it for you."

"Yes, although it was super awkward when Angelo came to pick up Nina for a date and he could barely look at me."

"Lorenzo probably said something more colorful than my woman." She giggles.

"You better be learning how to make a red sauce!" Damien shouts in the background.

"Please, baby Jesus, I hope you can teach Damien a thing or two," Cara whispers.

"You didn't eat your eggs. Did you not like them?" I hear Damien ask Cara.

"Sounds like you need to go." I smother a laugh and say goodbye, preparing myself for the dreaded phone call with my mom. I pull out the leftover pasta Lorenzo made for me last night. He's almost as good of a cook as his sister. I pull up my mom's number and call her.

"I was wondering when you were going to call your poor mother, who suffered through sixteen hours of labor for you. When are you returning? I feel like you've been in Italy forever. Don't you have a job here?"

"Barbara, I told you I would be here for the summer," I say flatly, stabbing a mushroom with my fork. I'm surprised she's awake this early and sounding sober. Perhaps her new boyfriend is a good influence on her.

"The entire summer? But…I miss you. Your place is so lonely without you around."

She wants something, but I'm too annoyed to play this game.

"You never told me what the HOA letter was about," I say.

"Oh, I don't remember. Your neighbor, what's her name, Gleason?"

"Mrs. Gladstone?"

"She's so nosy, asking me all kinds of questions, wondering where you are. Such a nuisance."

"Please don't upset my neighbors. I like living there, which is why I wish you would stop having people over and trashing it. If I hear of any complaints from neighbors or the management company, I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Is that any way to speak to your mother?"

"Actually, I have a lot more to say, but I think we should do it in front of a counselor."

"I'm not going to therapy with you," she scoffs. "I will not listen to some quack tell me all the things I've done wrong. That's on you."

She hangs up on me before I can utter another word.

I sit in silence and eat my lunch, not tasting the food, wondering what to do about Barbara. I startle when a hand gently brushes my shoulder. I look up and see Nonna easing herself down onto the stone wall. She's wearing black silk palazzo pants with a black button-down silk shirt and a wide brim straw hat.

"Oh, Nonna, you scared me."

"I was calling out to you, but you were lost in your own thoughts." She smiles, smelling like roses and morning dew. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes…" I sigh and put my lunch to the side. "Actually, no. You're right, Nonna, I am lost."

"Ah, I see." She folds her delicate hands in her lap. "My body is old, and my mind is not as sharp as it used to be, but my eyes? My eyes have seen many beautiful things in my eighty-five years. These eyes, stellina, watched a caterpillar build a crisalide, a cocoon around itself.

"For weeks, I waited patiently, making sure nothing harmed it. I would shoo away birds if they got too close, protecting the vulnerable creature inside to the outside world. And then one day, I was lucky enough to catch the beauty emerging. The most brilliant butterfly appeared with wings blue as the sky above, and a body black as the night. It fluttered and flew away to live a new life. I clapped and cheered, which is silly, I know. But what a miracle to witness! A plain caterpillar morphing into something free and beautiful."

"But Nonna—"

"Non ho finito," she grumps, patting my leg. "Trust these eyes, caramellina. They see great things within you. They see a caterpillar waiting to bloom into a beautiful butterfly. These eyes have seen you written in the stars. You were meant to be here." She squeezes my hand. "You are not lost, child. You are just beginning. Trust what's inside here. Ho fiducia in te." She gently taps my heart. Tears prick my eyes as the familiar Italian words soothe my heart. I have faith in you.

"Thank you, Nonna."

"I don't know what troubles you, but give it time."

"I'm not so sure time can help this one. My mother is an alcoholic. She is constantly blaming me for all her failures…it's been thirty-six years, and she can't move forward." I swipe the tears falling from my eyes. "I don't know how to fix it."

Nonna hums, handing me a tissue from her bag.

"Sometimes, people don't like to see when another is growing into something better. They can't move forward with you and it stirs up jealousy and anger inside themselves. Your light is too bright, stella, your colors too beautiful, farfallina, to be dimmed by someone else. Ha perso la strada…she has lost her way. Sometimes we can help them find it and sometimes we have to move on and let them find it for themselves. It is not your job to fix it." She pats my knee and stands. "Dry your tears, sí? This old woman needs a nap."

"Grazie, Nonna." I stand and wrap her in a fierce hug.

She gently pats my back. "Basta, you're wrinkling my shirt."

"Oh, sorry." I laugh and release her. I clean up my lunch, gather myself together, and head back into the shop.

I'm surprised to walk in and find Lorenzo and Nina together, laughing. Nina says something in Italian, and a streak of jealousy courses through me. I'm back in the study on the night of our first kiss all over again. In all honesty, Nina is a much better match for Lorenzo. She's young and pretty and still has time to produce loads of children for him. She's Italian, doesn't have family baggage, and she's not leaving at the end of the summer. My heart dips.

"Ciao, Summer." Lorenzo winks at me as I put my purse down.

"Ciao, Lorenzo."

"Nina was just telling me about the Greek couple this morning who argued that Kalamata olives are better."

"Ah, yes. They were charming," I deadpan. "Hands down, the most difficult group I've encountered this summer, demanding a refund and threatening to write bad reviews on Tripadvisor."

Lorenzo walks over and takes my hand, squeezing it. "I'm sure you handled them with kid gloves, cara mia."

"I gave them two free bottles of olive oil." I shrug. Nina's eyes laser in on our hands. I drop mine and take a step back.

"Did they walk away happy?" he asks.

"Sí," Nina says grumpily, inspecting her nail.

"Then all is right in the world." Lorenzo winks at me. "Summer, can I speak with you for a moment in the back office?"

"Sure." I follow Lorenzo into our office and put my purse on the desk. He closes the door and clicks the lock. "Nonna Rossi is so amazing. She just—"

He sweeps me into his arms and nibbles my neck. "Tesoro, I don't want to think about my grandmother right now." He captures my lips in a dizzying kiss. He smells so good, like expensive Italian leather and woods.

His tongue parts my lips and tangles with mine as my fingers thread through his silky hair. All my misguided thoughts about Nina being a better match fly right out the window as I feel his thick, hard length through his trousers. He lifts me onto the desk, spreading my legs.

"Wait, Lorenzo! We can't do this. We're at work and Nina is right outside."

"I don't care," he growls into my neck.

"No." I giggle, pushing him away. I stand, putting space between us. "We need to be professional."

He turns and perches on the edge of the desk, folding his arms over his chest. "You're right. Sorry, perdo la testa quando sono vicino a te. I can't help myself when I'm around you."

"You can't lock me into an office every time you can't control yourself." I smirk.

He sends me a devastating smile that makes me want to retract my last statement. "You're right, tesoro. I'll just make love to you in public from here on out."

The thought of Lorenzo pushing me up against the old stone mill and having his wicked way with me has my core throbbing.

"Hello, Summer? Where did you just go?"

"Huh?" I'm ripped from my fantasy, back to the cramped office. Maybe I should let him play seven minutes in heaven.

"So, the reason I asked you in here, apart from wanting to kiss you senseless, is to ask you something. In Italy, we celebrate what's called Ferragosto in August."

"Oh yes, your sister and Nonna mentioned it. What exactly is it?"

"We shut down the farm and go to the coast for a week with the whole famiglia."

"You shut down?"

"Sí, it's a tradition in Italy for shops to close during the week of the Assumption and enjoy a little rest and relaxation. Most of the town will be away, and I don't want you to be here by yourself. It would mean a lot if you would spend it with me. Will you say yes?"

"Sí," I answer without hesitation. I would pretty much say yes to whatever Lorenzo asked me to do. Mamma mia, I'm in trouble.

"Bene. And this weekend our town is holding the Feast of San Lorenzo. Would you like to go with me?"

"Are you named after a saint? Tell me more." I step in between his legs and run my hands through his hair, kissing his luscious lips. His hands run down my backside and squeeze. He growls, sending shivers of anticipation up my spine.

"It's a tradition…that started in Florence when Saint Lorenzo gave out blessed bread to the people, and they feasted on watermelon at night. Everyone in Tuttoscano comes together to celebrate. We eat, listen to music, and watch the stars." He groans. "Cara mia, I can't think when you nibble my jaw."

"Sounds fun," I purr, biting his earlobe before I lean back. "Are you sure about going with me? People will wonder about us…"

"Tesoro, you're not a dirty little secret." His brow furrows. "I'll shout it from the rooftops if I need to. I was just keeping it low-key because of you."

I smile as warmth envelops my heart. "I just…you know, because we're keeping it simple. I didn't know—"

He takes my face in his hands and looks into my eyes, his smoky gray-green flecked with gold. "Summer, I want—" The door jiggles. Fiore curses on the other side in Italian. Lorenzo sighs, letting go of me, and turns to unlock the door.

"Oh, ciao, Renzo, non sapevo che eri qui dentro…oh, Summer, I didn't see you." Fiore's eyes dart between us, her smile widening. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here. I was coming to grab the reservation list, but the door was locked."

I look down at the desk I'm perched on and quickly grab the list. Heat burns my cheeks as I pass it to her. Lorenzo leans against the wall, crossing his arms, his eyes twinkling. "I was asking Summer to join me for the Feast of San Lorenzo and to come away with me for Ferragosto."

Fiore squeals and jumps up and down, crushing me into a claustrophobic hug.

"Did we just get engaged?" I laugh as I glance at Lorenzo over Fiore's shoulder, struggling not to fall off the desk.

"No, but I just made you and me official. Mettersi insieme. We are seeing each other exclusively." He smiles ruefully as he looks at his watch. "I've got to run. Fiore, get off her." He pulls me to him and lightly kisses my lips. "I hope you're okay with that, tesoro. Exclusive, sí?" All I can do is nod as he strides out of the room, leaving me a bit shell-shocked. So much for promises of a casual fling.

"Non vedo l'ora che vi arrivino dei bei bambini!" Fiore shouts after him before turning to me with a wide grin.

"What did you just yell? I heard bambini."

"I can't wait for you two to have beautiful babies."

I choke as I stand. "Fiore!"

"What? It's true."

"Too soon for the baby talk," I grumble. We walk out of the office to return to the tasting room.

"I'm excited for you and Lorenzo, though. He's been so happy lately."

"It was your strawberry shortcake." I grin.

Fiore bumps my hip. "I think it was your strawberry shortcake." She laughs. "Ciao, sorella." She leaves me blushing outside the tasting room. I walk in, my head whirling with everything that just happened in the last fifteen minutes.

"Why did she just call you sister?" Nina challenges the second I walk through the door.

"I'm sorry?"

"Sorella…sister."

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps she meant to say Summer?" I hedge, uneasy with the intensity in Nina's gaze. "So, tell me about the Feast of San Lorenzo. Are you going?"

"Sí, everyone goes." Nina slowly flips through a magazine while she sips her cappuccino. "The whole town comes together with food and music." She eyes me over her cup. "If you need to go with someone, I'm sure I can ask Gio."

"Non è necessario, grazie."

"You're going by yourself?"

"No, I'm going with Lorenzo."

Her mouth drops open. Thankfully, a small group walks in for their two p.m. tour before she can question me further. "Buongiorno!" I smile brightly.