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Edo's mind raced as fast as his heartbeat. He’d known she’d be here, really. It was one of the most likely places to run into her in the entire town. But he'd come anyway. Had he been wanting to see her?
Of course he had. He’d wanted to see her for years—almost as long as he'd wanted to not see her. But now that she was actually here, he had no idea how to react.
Slightly behind Paola, with a comfortably possessive hand on her lower back, was a man Edo had heard plenty about but never met: Paola’s boyfriend of five years, Giovanni. Edo’s mother had told him several times about the happy couple, hoping the reason her son wasn't married was the specter of a past relationship that could be banished by learning of Paola's new one.
Edo had told himself for years that he was over Paola. But he'd never had to test that by actually seeing her.
“Edo! How are you? It's been so long.”
Beside Edo, Samantha stiffened. He ought to reassure her, but he wasn't sure how to calm himself down first.
He could at least start by introducing them. “Paola, this is Samantha. Samantha, meet Paola. She's an old friend.”
The look Samantha shot him told him she remembered exactly what kind of “old friend” Paola was. Paola looked surprised, but switched easily to English.
“Nice to meet you. And this is Giovanni.” She slid her arm around her boyfriend’s waist and smiled up at him.
Edo felt a twist in his gut. It wasn't jealousy, exactly—not jealousy over Paola and Giovanni being together, more... jealousy at their ease together, at the way they touched each other so casually and yet looked into each other's eyes meaningfully. That was what he missed most from when he’d dated Paola; that was what he'd not found a hint of with any of the girls he’d tried to date in New York or Philly.
Paola looked back at Edo, and she seemed so genuinely happy to see him. He’d probably been a bit of a jerk for avoiding her for so many years.
“I’d heard you were back, but never thought to see you here. Shall we have a dance for old times’ sake?”
Samantha’s grip on Edo's arm tightened, but she didn't verbally object, and when Giovanni stretched out his hand and asked if she would care to dance, she looked uncertainly up at Edo.
Edo was torn. Part of him said it was not a good idea to dance with Paola, but at the same time, it might be the test he needed to make sure he really had gotten over her.
Edo took Paola’s hand and led her out onto the dance floor. It was strange how even after so many years, when he took his dance position, she felt like the perfect fit. She didn't belong in his arms anymore, but it still felt right to dance with her like this, and Edo couldn't help kicking himself for it.
“You still remember how to dance.”
Edo didn’t meet Paola’s eyes, focusing instead on looking where he was going as he steered them in and out of the other couples. “Some of it.”
“Did you dance in the states?”
“No.”
“What did you do for fun?”
“Movies, listened to music.” Edo shrugged. “I worked a lot; I didn’t have much time for fun.”
“Yes, your mother told me you were always working too hard.”
This was the problem with a small town—you could break up with someone, and six years later they were still discussing you with your mother.
When he didn’t rise to the bait, Paola changed tactics. “So, that girl. Is she your girlfriend?”
Edo stumbled. Should he say he was dating Samantha? It would be nice not to have to admit he was still single when Paola was here with her boyfriend. And it wasn't like Samantha would understand if she overheard him say it... He didn't think.
But Paola might say something in English. Better to tell the truth. “She's one of my parents’ guests.”
Paola’s eyebrows raised, and her tone had a judgmental edge as she said, “I don't recall you ever taking their guests dancing before.”
Edo didn't even know how to respond to that. The last time he would've had a chance to take a guest dancing, he'd still been dating Paola. He would have been here with her, laughing, stealing kisses between spins, practicing dips. Then afterward they would have gone back to the Castello, and he would have pushed her on the swing in the dark, and they would have talked about everything and nothing, and then they would always end up on the bench in the trees, kissing until Edo’s mother flicked the porch light twice to let them know she was coming out to make them come inside...
“Are you really back for good this time?”
Edo nodded.
“And you're really going to run the Castello?”
“Is that so strange?”
“You told me when you left you wouldn’t be coming back.”
A pain shot through Edo. Guilt. He’d said some mean things the night she’d refused his offer to go with him to America. “Plans change.” He sent Paola out into a turn, and when he brought her back into his arms, she looked thoughtful.
“I have always hoped you were happy. But it seems you still don't know what you're looking for.”
Irritated, Edo increased the length of his steps so they would finish their current turn around the ballroom sooner so he could stop dancing with her. This was one thing he hadn’t missed; she always thought she knew better than him. “I'm not looking for anything.”
She tipped her head so she could look into his face even with his head turned slightly away from her. “Then maybe you should be.” She looked over and nodded at where Samantha was trying not to be obvious about watching them, and her eyebrows slanted down slightly. “Be careful with your guests, though. You don't want to get the wrong sort of reputation. You have a business to think about.”
Like it was her place to give him advice about anything. “Maybe that's my new way of advertising. Maybe single women are my new target market.”
They completed their turn around the floor, and he let go of her even though the song hadn't ended.
“Are you really interested in her? That little girl? An American?”
“Are you interested in me?” He turned the question back on her without thinking, reacting to the rush of defensiveness her words prompted. Yes, Samantha was younger than him. And American. But Edo had lived in America a long time; Samantha didn’t seem foreign to him—and, he suddenly realized, Paola did. He didn’t really know her anymore. And even though his breath still caught at the sight of her, he’d spent this whole dance wanting to get away, to get back to Samantha.
Paola looked wary. “What we had ended a long time ago. I'm happy with Giovanni.”
“Then it's none of your business who I date.” Edo turned away from Paola and headed for the restroom.
#
SAMANTHA THANKED GIOVANNI and looked for Edo, but he had disappeared. She wandered over to an empty table against the wall and sat down to wait for him.
It was just her luck for Edo's ex to show up when he’d been about to kiss her. He had been about to kiss her—she was sure she hadn't been imagining it. But from the look on his face as he’d danced with Paola, he wouldn't be in the mood for any more of that tonight.
Samantha was surprised how disappointed she was. While she’d missed the emotional connection of a relationship over the years, kissing John was something that had always been incidental to their relationship for her. Maybe that was why he’d gotten bored with her.
But from the way her heart rate and stomach had reacted when Edo had leaned in toward her, kissing him would have been an entirely different experience. Maybe it was better that she never knew what that could be like.
Samantha watched Giovanni and Paola float around the dance floor smiling into each other's eyes and obviously madly in love. What would that be like?
What was she doing playing around with Edo like this? Samantha was not the type of person who wanted a fling; what had gotten into her?
And yet... She had felt more herself with him this evening than she had for at least a year. She’d felt free. She’d felt happy. Was that so wrong? Was it wrong to collect good memories to look back on once she returned to working at Apple Grove? Samantha had accepted the job at Apple Grove when her grandmother's dementia had gotten too bad for her to stay at home anymore. This way, Samantha could still be near her grandmother and also earn a living. She got along well with the staff, and loved many of the residents dearly, but the thought of going back to that life after this taste of Italy made her feel like the walls were closing in.
“I think I've had enough dancing; how about you?” Edo had come up while she'd been lost in thought.
Samantha looked up into his eyes—eyes that seemed heavier and more tired than only a few minutes before. She didn't want to stay here, but if she agreed to leave, he would take her home and go away, and his eyes would stay like this. She needed an alternative. “Sure—as long as you take me somewhere for ice cream before we go home.
A little spark of amusement lit again in Edo's eyes. “Ice cream is a dirty word here, you know. We eat gelato.”
Samantha stood and tucked her arm through his. “Gelato, then.”
Edo's eyes flicked over to Paola and Giovanni, but then he looked back at her and smiled. “I'll show you my favorite.”
#
“THIS IS IT.”
Samantha looked around in surprise. She'd been expecting a cute little gelato place, maybe something like a fancy little ice cream parlor back home. But this was just a little bar and convenience store. It was smaller than the inside of most gas stations back home. A bar with stools backed by plenty of bottles and a tv showing a soccer game ran along the left wall, while on the right stood a couple racks of chips and a case of drinks. Two tiny round tables with lightweight metal chairs were slid against the back wall.
Edo led her over to the freezer. “Prepare to have your mind blown.”
Samantha raised an eyebrow skeptically, and Edo grinned, suddenly looking like a mischievous little boy.
“This,” he said, pulling the door open with a flourish and reaching inside with both hands, “is Tartufo!” He turned to face her, holding two little round brown containers with peel tops.
“This is your favorite?”
“Hey, don’t speak until you’ve had it.”
“All right, all right. I'll trust you.” Right as she said the words, Edo's eyes met hers, and for just a moment they both froze. But before she could blabber something about meaning she’d trust his taste in ice cream, and make things worse, he turned to the counter to pay.
Samantha took several deep breaths. What had even happened? It had been an innocent comment, so why had it hit them both so hard? She walked over to the tiny wooden table with two chairs against the wall. Edo soon joined her. He set a wooden spoon in front of her and then peeled back the plastic lid of her ice cream. No, Gelato.
In the cup sat a crinkled paper cupcake wrapper filled with a round ball dusted in what was probably cocoa powder. It didn't look like a very special treat.
As if reading her mind, Edo sighed and sat down across from her. “You know, for someone who came to Italy by herself, you're not very adventurous.” Samantha grabbed her wooden spoon and prepared to prove him wrong, but he put his hand over hers to stop her. Looking up in surprise, she saw that he had his own spoon extended toward her with a bite. She felt suddenly, inexplicably shy.
“I can feed myself.”
“Yes, but you’re in Italy for new experiences, right?” He winked at her, and her stomach did a flip. He still had one of her hands in his. “Come on.”
Samantha, feeling deserted of all her earlier boldness, accepted the bite.
It was delicious—cold, sweet, and richer and creamier than ice cream. The dusting was cocoa, and it tempered the sweetness and added an interesting texture. “Hmmm. Not sure yet if it will be a new favorite. I'll need to try a few more bites.”
Edo put a hand protectively over his dish. “Oh, no, you don't. You'd eat all of mine and then your own, too. But this is the first time I've had Tartufo in four years—you're just going to have to be happy with the bite you got.”
Samantha grinned, feeling the tension ease a little. “So stingy.”
They ate in silence for a few bites, enjoying the layers of chocolate and vanilla gelato, and savoring the fudgy center. Then Samantha set down her spoon and leaned back. She needed to be bold again, like she'd been earlier. “How was it, seeing Paola again?”
Edo choked on his Tartufo. Samantha resumed eating hers while he decided what to say. How honest would he be?
Edo poked at his Tartufo with his spoon and spoke slowly. “It was strange. Awkward? Good?” He looked up at her. “Did you know I've been avoiding her for six years?
Samantha stayed quiet, hoping he'd continue.
“I've come home for visits a few times, but I've kept them short and always managed to stay out of her way.”
When he didn't continue, Samantha prodded. “Did you think you’d still be in love with her?” She didn't ask what she really wanted to—if he was still in love with her. It shouldn't even matter to Samantha, who was only here for another week or so.
Edo shook his head. “I got over her a long time ago—at least, I was pretty sure. But how do you interact with someone who used to be your whole world? Is it possible to be friends? And what if I only thought I was over her, but then I was wrong?”
Samantha shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. “And?”
Edo looked up from his ice cream, a little surprised. “What?”
“What was the verdict? When you saw her? Are you still in love with her?”