Chapter 26

Lorenzo squeezes myhand as we walk toward the large gathering of people in the center of town. Guitar music floats down the narrow cobblestoned streets, while throngs of people chat and visit with one another. Old women gather around the long trestle tables loaded with pans of lasagna and watermelon. The name, San Lorenzo, seems to echo off the ancient limestone walls.

People keep stopping Lorenzo and chatting amicably while they stare at me curiously. He's a celebrity among the locals, and it's heartwarming to see him in his element, giving them a charming smile and kissing their cheeks. I try to keep up with what they're saying, but they speak too fast for me to understand, so I just nod and smile. Lorenzo gently guides me through the crowds, murmuring into my ear who they are and what they are saying.

"Should I have brought some lasagna?" I smile at another couple eating from paper plates while they walk.

"Don't worry, you're with me, and we donated plenty." He kisses my temple and nods to another passerby. "Prepare yourself, tesoro. There's Nonna. Fiore spilled the sauce about us."

Nonna looks up as if she heard him whisper it into her ear. Her eyes zero in on our hands, and for a split-second, I can see a hint of a smile before her mask of indifference slides into place.

"Renzo, it's about time you arrived. Help Signora Picorna pass out the plates," Nonna says brusquely. Lorenzo looks down at me, concern etched across his face. "Calmati, I'll take care of Summer."

"You can stay here with me. You don't have to go with Nonna," he says in my ear.

"I'll be fine," I assure him before he reluctantly releases my hand and moves around the table to help Signora Picorna.

Nonna Rossi takes my arm and tucks it to her side. She's wearing her signature silk outfit in a shade of midnight blue tonight, her hair pulled back. "Help an old woman make her rounds, Summer."

"Of course, Nonna Rossi."

We walk a little way, nodding to different people. Nonna is clearly on the hunt for a particular person when she suddenly pulls me to the side.

"Ciao, Mirabella!" Nonna shouts to a plump older woman with grizzled black hair, wearing a purple scarf and garish makeup. "Vorrei presentare la fidanzata di Lorenzo, Summer Andrews. She's from California." Nonna smiles triumphantly, so I do the same. I hold out my hand to the other woman.

My smile slips as Mirabella's lips flatten before she spits to the side. She lifts her fist to yell something rapidly in Italian. Nonna giggles gleefully before she takes my arm and quickly guides me away from her.

"Why was that woman so angry? What did you say?"

"That old witch is a Rizzotti."

I groan. "Oh no, not the Rizzottis."

"She has said for years Lorenzo would never marry, ever since he refused her granddaughter, but who could blame him? She's a complete cow, not to mention she has Rizzotti blood running through her veins. Mirabella tried to put an old Italian curse on him and said his balls would turn black and shrivel up, but look who's laughing now! She can stuff that truffle in her catoosh."

I'm shocked Nonna knows the English word for ‘balls' and that I can still hear Mirabella screaming what I can only assume is Italian profanity as we walk away.

"What did you say to her?"

She shrugs. "I said you were Renzo's new friend."

I eye her surreptitiously. Her reaction was a little harsh for being introduced as just a friend. "Nonna, please don't walk around telling everyone I'm Lorenzo's girlfriend. We haven't even defined—"

Nonna claps her hands in my face, cutting me off. "Sciocchezza! Nonsense! You and Renzo siete scritti nelle stelle," she says as she waves her hand toward the night sky. I look around, confused, as she huffs. "You were written in the stars. We need to work on your Italian more. Ah, Elena! Ti presento la fidanzata di Lorenzo…"

"Nonna," I warn, knowing she's calling me something other than a friend, but before I can take a breath, a busty short woman with cropped salt-and-pepper hair pulls me into a hug and squeezes me tight as Nonna proudly looks on.

"Summer, this is my best friend, Elena."

The woman speaks rapidly to Nonna as she pets my hair and pinches my cheek. I'm pretty sure they're discussing my good birthing hips when Nonna cackles. A hand reaches around Elena and grasps mine, pulling me away. At this point, I wouldn't care if it were Dr. Bianchi or Great-Uncle Giovanni, anyone besides Nonna and her handsy bestie, Elena. Luckily, it's my handsome Italian knight in shining armor.

"Nonna," Lorenzo chastises as she and Elena chuckle.

"Rilassati, Lorenzo! Relax, she's fine."

"I'm sorry, tesoro, I got stuck being pinched by all of Nonna's friends over by the food. Are you okay?"

"I think Nonna has already married us off, telling everyone I'm pregnant with twins." I'm expecting a horrified expression to wash over his features, but his eyes warm as the edges crinkle with an affectionate smile.

"Come, we'll find a good place to eat and watch the stars without meddling grandmothers."

"Watch the stars?" I ask. Nonna's declaration that Lorenzo and I were written in the stars resonates in my head.

"Sí, the Feast of San Lorenzo is also known as the night of the shooting stars because the Perseid meteor shower falls annually on this night, August tenth. This meteor shower is interpreted as the tears of Saint Lorenzo."

I gaze up at him and shiver. "Not only are you incredibly romantic, but also very knowledgeable."

He bashfully ducks his head, grabbing two plates of lasagna off the table. "Glad to be of service, cara mia. Can you grab some watermelon?"

I pick up two paper bowls before he leads me through the throng of people.

The music, lively chatter, and aromas warm my soul. I'm falling deeper in love with this charming little village and possibly with the man walking beside me. We climb a steep cobblestone hill until we reach a small courtyard with a stone wall overlooking Tuttoscano. Lorenzo hands me a plate and pulls two small bottles of water out of his pocket as we sit on the wall, our legs dangling over the edge.

"I figured Nonna wasn't looking to feed you. Mangia." He gestures to his own plate with his lasagna. I dig in, not realizing I was starving.

"Oh my God, this is so much better than Stouffer's."

"Who's Stouffer?"

"A crappy frozen lasagna that shouldn't even be talked about in this lasagna's company. I'm sorry I even brought it up," I murmur to my pasta.

Lorenzo shakes his head and laughs. "Did you just whisper to your lasagna?"

"Maybe." I smile goofily back at him and take a big bite, groaning. "So good."

"I've never met anyone like you, tesoro," he says tenderly. "Ti adoro."

"I—"

"Sta iniziando!" a little boy shouts, pointing toward the darkening sky.

"It's starting," Lorenzo murmurs.

I put down my plate as he shifts behind me and pulls me against him. I watch in wonder as the stars look like they're falling from the sky.

"Wow…" I whisper in awe.

"Tradition declares those are San Lorenzo's tears and in honor of his suffering, one must make a wish of your heart's desire on the stars, and your wish will come true. Stella, mia bella Stella, desidero che…Star, my pretty Star, I wish. Make a wish, amore mia."

I watch the glowing stars fall from the inky sky like burnt embers and silently wish Lorenzo would be mine forever. His lips graze over my temple as we sit in the dark, and my heart feels like it might burst with love. If I could make a second wish, I'd ask to stay in this moment forever.

I turn my head. "Did you make a wish?"

"Of course."

"Do you think it will come true?"

"The stars never lie, tesoro."

He leans in and kisses me, sealing our fates.