Kiss Me Goodnight in Rome (The Senior Semester Series Book 2) (18 page)

Mama nods. “Then you better be honest with her about how you really feel. Don’t let her get away if she’s a good girl.”

I nod. As usual, Mama is right.

* * *

Five days pass before Mia finally walks into Angelina’s and my heart catches in my throat. I’ve been waiting to see her, to talk to her. Things seemed to go so well the morning we had breakfast together. And then, I don’t see her for nearly a week. I shake my head. Why couldn’t I have just messaged her like a normal person?
Because you actually like her.

And instead of admitting that, I spent the past four nights drinking with Sandro or trying to hook up with Francesca. Or Giulietta. But in the end, I couldn’t do it. They aren’t Mia.

And that thought scares the fuck out of me.

Now, here she is, looking around the inside of the restaurant, deciding where to sit. She’s breathtaking in a tight pair of skinny jeans and a camel-colored cashmere coat. Her brown boots tap against the floor as she walks to an empty table in the back corner, away from the cold that blasts through the door each time someone enters or exits.

She sits down and drops her backpack on the chair next to her. I smile. I love that it’s purple. Mia tucks her hair behind her ears, brushing stray strands out of her eyes. She looks up, as if she can tell I’m staring at her, and when her eyes meet mine, she smiles shyly.

Damn, I’ve missed her. But how do you miss someone you’ve never even had?

“Buona sera.” I walk over to her table, handing her a menu.

“Ciao, Lorenzo.” Her eyes scan the menu quickly.

“Caffé latte?”

“Si.”

“Come stai?”

“Bene, grazie. Tu?”

“Bene.”

What the hell is wrong with me? Why are we having the most generic conversation known to mankind?

“I’ll be right back with your caffé.”

“Okay.”

I stalk back to the kitchen, my nerves rattling me, my hands clenching into fists. Why am I acting like an idiot?
Get it together, Enzo!
Thank God the restaurant is quiet right now. There’s only one waitress here, and she’s out front smoking a cigarette. I may have to disappear if there had been witnesses to me swooning over a girl, stuttering like a lovesick kid.

After preparing her caffé, I add a few biscotti to a side dish and walk back to her table.

“Here,” I say, placing the caffé and biscotti down.

“Thank you.” She wraps her hands around the mug, breathing in the scent of espresso and milk.

“So,” I start, grabbing the chair next to her and sitting down before I lose my nerve, “how are things going?”

“Good.” She takes a small sip of her drink, a little happy sigh escaping her lips.

I avert my gaze.

“Have you been busy lately?” I try again. Why does she seem distant? Is it that fucking douche Pete?

“Sort of. Just school stuff. Hanging out a lot with Lexi.”

“Yeah. I figured. I haven’t seen you at all this week. Not since we had breakfast,” I add lamely.

She shrugs, taking another sip of caffé before placing the mug down on the saucer.

Jesus. Just ask her out. I turn toward her, placing a hand on her wrist.

She jumps slightly but doesn’t shake my hand off, which I take as a sign to continue.

“Well, if you’re free tomorrow night, want to have dinner with me? I know you have class the next day and it’s short notice, but if you’re free …” I watch her face closely, trying to discern any hesitancy on her part.

She smiles, her face transforming into sunshine. Fuck, I’m a goner.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

I smile back, rubbing my thumb over the delicate skin of her wrist. “I’ll pick you up at 7:00PM?”

She nods. “Sounds good.”

“Okay. I’ll let you study then.” I nod toward her backpack. “I have some errands I need to run. So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Why did I say it like a fucking question?

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

Now that Mia actually agreed to the date, my nerves have fled and my confidence is back. Thank God. I park my car about a block from her street and zip my jacket up before getting out. Walking to her place, I tuck my hands in the pockets, surprised by how cold it already is.

Standing in front of Mia’s apartment, I knock twice on the green door. It opens a moment later and a man stands there, a frown peeking through his trim beard.

“Ciao. Sono Lorenzo,” I say steadily, sticking out my hand. Wow, talk about an old-fashioned date. This is such a different experience than any of the other American exchange students I’ve taken out in the past.

“Ciao, Lorenzo. Sono Gianluca. Piacere.” Gianluca shakes my hand, a smile warming his face, changing his features. “Come on in.” He holds the door open wide.

I step into the entrance just as Mia comes walking toward the door. I blink slowly. Damn, she is beautiful. Her long brown hair is loose around her shoulders, curled slightly at the ends. Her makeup is subtle but her eyes appear bigger, her lashes thicker. She’s wearing black skinny jeans tucked into a pair of leather boots that reach her thighs. A thin, long sleeve black shirt with a low V clings to her frame, highlighting the curve of her breasts, usually hidden under a sweater three sizes too big. A thick plaid scarf hangs from her shoulders as she wraps it around her neck, once, twice, tucking in the ends.

“Ciao.” She smiles at me, coming forward and pressing kisses to both my cheeks.

Jeez, who is this girl? She looks stunning, her confidence a total turn-on.

“Don’t forget your jacket,” Gianluca says, reaching into a closet and emerging with Mia’s camel-colored coat.

“Grazie.” She smiles at him adoringly as he holds the jacket open wide for her to slide her arms into. She buttons the front up, pulling a pair of gloves out of the pocket, which she quickly pulls over her hands. “Ready?” she asks me.

I nod. “Si. It was good to meet you,” I tell Gianluca sincerely.

He watches me for a moment, his eyes serious before turning into a look of general friendliness. “You too. Have a nice night.”

“Thanks.”

“See you later, Gianluca.” Mia calls over her shoulder as she steps outside.

“Be careful, cara.”

And I can’t help but smile, enjoying the fact that this guy is worried about my girl. At least, I hope to make her my girl soon.

* * *

I take Mia to one of my favorite restaurants, a place we frequented as a family when Claudia and I were kids. Back when Benito was still a doting and loving uncle and not a manipulative coward. I haven’t been to D’Amico’s in a long time, not since before Papa passed, but the owner, Nino, greets me with the same warmth and kindness he always exhibits when Mia and I walk through the door.

“Ciao, Enzo! What a pleasure to have you here with us this evening.” He shakes my hand warmly, pulling me in for a hug.

“It’s always a pleasure to be here, Nino. How are you doing?” I step back, clasping a hand to his shoulder. “How are Carlotta and the kids?”

Nino wags his finger at me. “You always did have an excellent memory, Enzo. Carlotta is wonderful, busy with her fashion designs. And the kids, well, what can I say? They are hardly bambini anymore. Maria is going to the UK next year for university, and Michele just got engaged this past summer!” He beams with pride.

“Congratulations.”

“Grazie. And who is this beautiful woman?” he asks, taking a small step toward Mia and clasping her hand in his own.

“This is my date, Mia.”

“Ah, what a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He kisses her hand lightly. I stop myself from rolling my eyes. Nino has always been a flirt. Or, as Mama says affectionately, a hopeless romantic.

“Grazie,” Mia says shyly, dropping her hand back to her side.

“I have the most perfect table for you this evening,” Nino announces, turning to the hostess and taking the menus from her hands. “Follow me.”

He leads us to the back of the restaurant, to a small table next to a massive window. The lights of the city shine below us, the Coliseum and Roman Forum visible.

“Grazie, Nino, this is perfect,” I tell him sincerely.

He nods. “Your waiter this evening will be right with you.” He winks at Mia. “Enjoy your dinner.”

After Nino saunters off, Mia stifles a giggle.

“He’s a lot to take in?” I guess.

She nods. “But charming, as I’m learning most Italians are.”

I chuckle and shrug. “Part of our culture. We can never help ourselves around beautiful women.”

Mia blushes, ducking her head. She picks up a menu and smiles at me over the top of it. “Do you come here often?”

“Not in a long time. I used to come here a lot when I was young. This was my papa’s favorite restaurant; Nino and he were friends from their school days.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a long time.”

“Yeah. I think you will like the food. It’s simple but delicious. The menu always consists of a lot of the foods Papa and Nino grew up eating, back before they were businessmen. Nowadays, all these dishes are featured on cooking channels, but back then they were just the plates ordinary families ate for dinner.”

Her eyes scan the menu and she smiles. “Like escarole and beans?”

“Exactly.”

She laughs. “Thank you for bringing me here.” Her eyes shine with sincerity.

“Thank you for coming with me.” I smile at her. Now it’s time to start my wooing.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mia

My heart is galloping in my chest when Lorenzo drops me off at home after our date. It was a perfect evening; he was the perfect gentleman. We are sitting in his car, the heat on full blast to keep the chill at bay, when Lorenzo turns toward me and smiles.

“I had fun tonight, Mia.”

“Me too.”

“No…” he shakes his head “…you don’t understand. I don’t do dates. I mean, not like this. Not just because I really want to get to know the girl. Tonight, this…” he gestures between us “…it’s different for me.”

Now my heart is melting. Literally melting throughout my body. “Me too. I mean, I haven’t been on a lot of dates. Not like this.”

“Good.” He smiles, his dimple tucking into his cheek. Why does he have to be sweet on top of being so hot?

“Well, I better get inside. I feel like Gianluca may peek out the windows waiting for me,” I joke.

Lorenzo laughs. “You have a pretty cool setup here. I’m glad you’re enjoying Rome.”

“Yeah, I do. Gianluca, Paola, and even Lexi are amazing, but you’ve also had a really big impact on my time here,” I tell him honestly.

He leans forward, over the center console, resting his palm against my cheek. “I’m glad.” He stares into my eyes for a beat before leaning forward and kissing me. Soft and sweet. “I’ll see you this week?”

“See you this week.” I agree, opening my car door and stepping outside. “Buona notte.” I wave.

“Buona notte, bella.”

I let myself into the apartment and am surprised that no one is home. Walking to the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of water and sit down at the table. Tonight was amazing. And special. It was a real date. I can’t believe I’m twenty-one years old and this is the first real date I’ve ever been on. I laugh to myself. Even though it’s been a long time coming, it was definitely worth the wait.

* * *

“So it was a real date? He really likes you!” Maura whispers on FaceTime.

“It was definitely a real date.” I press my fingers against my lips, remembering the goodnight kiss Lorenzo pressed there. “He was the perfect gentleman: sweet, caring, interested.” And although he’s always been like that with me, it was different somehow. It was more. And I still can’t wrap my mind around it. “Why are you whispering?” I ask Maura.

“Because.” Her eyes widen as if that’s supposed to tell me the entire story.

“Because why?” I widen my eyes back at her.

She giggles and it is the most uncharacteristic sound I’ve ever heard Maura make that my eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Because I’m drunk,” she hiccups.

“What?” This time my eyes do widen. In surprise, shock, and concern.

She nods. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone. We’re technically dry.” She waves a hand. Her rowing team is always dry, her coach demanding nothing short of perfection from his rowers. And alcohol impedes perfection so Maura rarely drinks. Until now apparently.

“Why are you drinking?” I try to understand her change in behavior. Maura always put rowing before everything else. There is no way she would jeopardize her spot on the team, their season, by getting drunk on a whim.

She shrugs. “Felt like it.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “Maura, I—”

“Oh, I have to tell you something important.” She cuts me off, her words slurring softly.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s about Lila.” She widens her eyes again.

And again, I have no idea what she’s trying to tell me.

My heart accelerates. “Is she okay?”

Maura shakes her head and fills me in on what’s happening with Lila and Cade. I groan out loud, my hand flying up to cover my mouth in shock as memories of my own mother’s cancer flit through my mind.

Poor Lila. This must be killing her. But really, poor Cade. My heart aches as I think about the challenges he is going to face in the coming weeks. The chemotherapy, the slow weakening of his body, the loss of his dreams. And I think about how Lila is going to have to be strong for him.

When I hang up with Maura, I squeeze my eyes shut tight.

Then I FaceTime Lila and provide her with whatever reassurance I can offer. She looks tired, bluish smudges visible under her eyes; I’ve never seen them on her before. She smiles at me wearily, her concern over Cade evident on her face, etched into her eyes. My heart goes out to her.

After we hang up, a wave of homesickness washes over me. I miss my friends. What the hell is going on? Maura drinking when her team is dry. Lila coming to terms with Cade’s diagnosis. Me liking two boys! I need to catch up with Emma, but clearly the pact is still intact. Life is pushing all of us way outside of our comfort zones, forcing us to deal with more challenges, more heartache, than we ever considered the night we sat around Dante’s restaurant, drinking wine and sangria in August.