Chapter 22

After escorting Mom to the hostel, Sarah returned to her room. The hour was late, technically the early hours of Christmas. She sat on the edge of her flimsy bed, wringing her hands. She had to find some way to back out of dinner at Eduardo’s. Maybe she could pretend to be sick? Or maybe they could conveniently get hung up at St. Peter’s?

She flopped back on the bed, flailing her arms to the side. This situation was hopeless. Mom would never allow her to back out. She’d gone on and on about Eduardo during the walk to her hostel. Sarah kept her lips zipped. What was she supposed to say? He called me bella cigna, and then I blew him off?

Bella cigna. His smooth, mellow voice played in her mind. I can’t believe your Italian and your painting.

Warmth simmered in her chest. If he’d recognized the sunset in the mural, did he still have feelings for her? Sarah bit her lower lip. Maybe things weren’t that serious with Antoinette? Maybe she could just…

She puffed her bangs with a “humph.” Just what? Ask him to end things with Antoinette? Ask him to overlook her own fickleness? Why would a handsome, wealthy bachelor do such a thing? He probably had a black book thicker than Mr. Rosen’s listings.

A light tap sounded on the door, and Sarah bolted upright. Who would be calling at this hour? Her mother? Sister Maria? Or maybe…Eduardo? “Just a minute!” Sarah threw a robe over her pajamas and hastily ran her hands through her hair. She rushed to the door and flung it open. “Sister Maria?” The disappointment in her voice was evident. She drew the robe closer to her chest and tightened the belt.

“I saw your light,” Sister Maria said.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder. Light streamed out the window, dipping into the courtyard. Across the way, a soft lamp glowed in Sister Maria’s office.

Sister Maria stepped past her into the room. “I hope you didn’t mind me seating you next to Eduardo this evening. I could only hold the one row, you see.”

With a lifted brow, Sarah pinched the corner of her mouth. If Sister Maria noticed, she didn’t let on.

“I just came from speaking with him.”

“You did?” Sarah’s pulse quickened. “What did he say? Did he mention Antoinette? Did he mention—” She caught herself and broke off.

Sister Maria smiled, her stance—hands clasped at her waist—unwavering.

“I mean,” Sarah continued, “I hope he enjoyed the service.”

“Oh, yes. He said your singing brought him joy.”

Cheeks burning, she dropped her gaze. “Of course, he did.”

“I never did get to commend you on your accomplishments with the play,” Sister Maria said. “The scenery and your work with Lucia. They were both marvelous feats.”

“Thank you.”

“Ones which didn’t go unnoticed by the parents, including Eduardo.”

Uncertain if she wanted to hear more or not, she lifted her gaze anyway.

Sister Maria stepped over to the desk and turned back the cover of a sketchpad. “You know, Sarah, sometimes we have to take risks to achieve our dreams.”

Oh, no. What had Mom told her during the service? About Philip? The infertility? Finding the belt of her robe, Sarah threaded it through her hands. With each pass, the rope strung tighter.

“I’ve told you I joined the convent to escape my past. I stayed there, at a small monastery in rural Tuscany, for fifteen years.” Sister Maria flipped through the pages.

A gentle calm settled into Sister Maria’s voice, and the rustle of paper cut through the stiff silence.

She turned another page and paused to study it. “Giving up that place was hard—the monastery was my solace.”

Sarah paused her weaving. “Why did you?”

“I was offered a job at a school here in the city. Eduardo and Leonardo—they were some of my first students.”

“Leonardo De Luca?”

Sister Maria nodded. “I was scared to take the job, Sarah. I was scared to be around children.”

“Scared?” Sarah dropped the belt. Of what could this iron fist of a woman be afraid?

“I love children but being around them was painful.” An edge entered Sister Maria’s voice.

Why would it be painful? Unless…Could she not conceive either?

“But coming here was the best decision I ever made.”

Sister Maria let go of the sketchpad and turned to face Sarah. She placed a hand on her shoulder. “What I’m saying is, sometimes we have to put ourselves in uncomfortable situations to get what we want—what we need.”

Tears brimmed Sarah’s eyes, and she again picked up the belt, pulling it taut. What was the sister saying? She should go back to fertility treatments? She should consider adoption?

Sister Maria squeezed Sarah’s shoulder then backed away. “Buon Natale, Sarah.”

Frozen in place, Sarah yanked tighter on the belt—so tight, she thought the fabric might fray. “Merry Christmas.” Sarah’s voice cracked.

Sister Maria turned to go.

Sarah let the tears drip down her cheeks. Soft sniffles muffled the gentle snap of the door closing. Why did Sister Maria have to give such vague advice? And why did her advice always incite sobbing?

Releasing the belt, she reached for the box of tissues on her desk. She froze her hand in mid-air, and she gasped. The sketchbook that Sister Maria studied lay open. The man in the picture stared with charcoal eyes—Eduardo’s eyes.

For a moment, Sarah was suspended in time. She didn’t blink. She didn’t swallow. She didn’t breathe. Sister Maria’s words rushed her mind, and her chest burned. She drew a deep breath and lowered herself to the chair. Sister Maria was right. Sarah didn’t know what she wanted to do next year. She didn’t even know if she wanted to stay in Italy or go back to the States. But as she traced the outline of Eduardo’s face, she understood one thing she knew she wanted for sure—one person. Eduardo.

****

The stairs creaked under Sarah’s footsteps, fuzzy teddy-bear slippers and all. The hall and stairwell were dark—had been ever since the students left over a week ago. She strode along the dim passage, clutching her master key in her hand.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

But what other choice did she have? The shops wouldn’t be open on Christmas Day, and she sure as hell wouldn’t win back Eduardo with an A-line skirt and button-up blouse.

Still, as she reached Flora’s room, she hesitated, the key hovering in front of the lock.

Why couldn’t Anna be her size? Then she wouldn’t have to go stealing from the only student who was as tall as she was.

Borrowing, she reminded herself. Just borrowing.

She slipped the key in the lock and turned it. The snap echoed through the hall. Sarah’s heart pounded. Could she really do this? Could she really win him back?

She flipped on the light and stepped inside. As she opened the closet, she bowed her head. “Please, God, let Flora have left something halfway decent.”

****

After a cab-ride through winter’s waning sun, Sarah and Mom arrived at Eduardo’s just before four.

Lucia greeted them at the door. “Miss Miller!” She lunged out of the apartment and hugged Sarah.

Sarah tousled Lucia’s hair, the softness tickling her fingers. As she pulled away, Sarah introduced her mother.

Sarah’s mom knelt. “You can call me Mrs. Miller.”

Lucia pressed her brows together.

“Tell you what,” Sarah said. “To avoid confusion, why don’t you call me Miss Sarah? Just for tonight.”

Her mother by her side, Sarah joined Lucia in the foyer. Warmth and the aroma of garlic and herbs greeted her.

Eduardo approached from the kitchen. “Sarah! Mrs. Miller! What a pleasure to see you again.” He motioned for them to come inside.

He wore the same apron Sarah remembered from her only other visit here. Her breath caught. She closed her eyes partly to relive the memory and partly to settle her nerves.

Eduardo helped Sarah’s mother with her coat then turned to Sarah.

Sarah hesitated before removing hers. Was a skimpy dress really the right move? She clutched the zipper of her coat. Too late to change my mind now. She yanked the zipper.

“Wow! Miss Mill—I mean, Miss Sarah, where’d you get that outfit?” Lucia stared at her with widened eyes.

As Sarah drew a hand to the plunging neckline of the skintight sweater dress, heat rushed to the same spot. “I—”

Eduardo cleared his throat. “Lucia, didn’t you have something to show Mrs. Miller?”

Lucia stared blankly.

Widening his eyes, Eduardo flicked his gaze in the direction of the window.

“Oh, yeah. Papa says I should show you the view.” Lucia grabbed Sarah’s mother’s hand.

“That sounds lovely!” Mom stepped toward the window but paused. “You look great,” she whispered in Sarah’s ear.

Sarah dropped her hand from her chest and forced herself not to tug at the hemline, which suddenly seemed shorter.

Eduardo stepped closer. As he took her coat, his gaze drifted from Sarah’s face to her body. “Your mom’s right. You look great.”

“Thank you.” And thank you, Flora.

Eduardo placed their coats on a rack and returned. “Now, I thought you might help me in the kitchen.”

“Sure.” Sure? Sarah shut her eyes. This evening was operation Win Back Eduardo, not a parent-teacher conference. She snapped open her eyes and rested a hand on the edge of her collar.

Eduardo’s gaze followed her hands.

“I mean, I’d love to.” Sarah spoke in a voice as gravelly and soft as she could muster. She danced her fingers around her bare neck. Eduardo tracked them like a dangled carrot.

He didn’t head toward the kitchen.

“You said something about the kitchen?” Sarah prompted.

“Kitchen?”

Sarah stifled a giggle and nodded.

“Kitchen.” Eduardo jerked back. “Right.” He pulled at his collar, his Adam’s apple exposing a deep swallow. “Shall we?”

She nodded and followed him.

“I thought you might help me with dessert,” he called over his shoulder.

Sarah held her chin high. Perfect, this privacy was just the opportunity she’d hoped for to remind him of their date. “What was wrong with dessert last time?”

“Hmm?”

“The dessert you served last time. I enjoyed it immensely. Didn’t you?”

He turned at the far side of the kitchen. “Last time?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

Sarah sauntered up, batted her lashes, and placed her hands on his chest. The warmth and firmness of his body threatened to unravel her, but she steadied her voice. “I suppose that would only be appropriate if we were alone.”

He softened his brow line. “Oh…no…I enjoyed it.”

Smiling, she plucked back her hands. The operation was going better than she’d expected. But now, for the hardest part—extracting details on his current relationship. On—she secretly cringed—Antoinette. “But what am I thinking? Of course, Antoinette wouldn’t approve. Will she be joining us as well?” She turned her attention to a tray of empty cannoli shells and a bowl of a white fluffy substance she presumed to be the filling.

“Oh, no. She’s out of town.”

“Visiting family, I suppose?”

“No. Work.”

“Work?” Sarah spun on her heel. “Who works on Christmas?”

He shrugged. “Financial advisers trying to secure a Chinese firm.”

“Ah. Well, so long as she makes you happy. She does make you happy?” Sarah stared up at him. His honest eyes would reveal the truth.

But he shifted his gaze, casting his attention in the direction of the cannoli. “I don’t know. I guess so.” He picked up an empty shell.

Sarah tried to measure his feelings by the expression on his face, but it matched his response—indifference.

“How about we concentrate on dessert? That’s a less loaded topic. Plus”—he dipped his finger in the white substance—“we’d better get these done before I eat all the filling.” He brought his finger to his mouth.

Impulsively, Sarah grabbed his hand. Was the sultry outfit to blame? Or that she was alone with him? She didn’t know. For whatever reason, she couldn’t hold herself back. She wrapped her mouth around his finger and licked off the sweetened mascarpone.

With each stroke of her tongue, Eduardo widened his eyes.

“Mm.” She closed her eyes as she lapped.

A cannoli shell snapped with a crack, and Sarah opened her eyes. A crumbled cannoli lay in Eduardo’s other hand, its shattered pieces falling to the floor.

Sarah released his finger. Tongue explorations were definitely not part of the plan. “I’m sorry.” She bent to clean up the broken shell.

“No, it’s okay.” He knelt beside her. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was I.”

He laughed lightly. “I think I need a glass of wine. Can I get you one?”

Maybe some alcohol would help her relax? No, she needed to focus, not indulge in her desires. She smiled. “Maybe just some water.”

He nodded and opened the refrigerator.

As he prepared drinks, Sarah reminded herself of her plan. Antoinette. Right. Focus! “So, does Antoinette like wine?”

Sighing, Eduardo dropped his shoulders and handed her the water. “Don’t all Italians?”

Sarah frowned, picked up a cannoli shell, and spooned in some of the filling.

“Let me help you with that.” Eduardo spooned the filling into a plastic bag.

Sarah sipped her drink. He sure liked skirting the Antoinette issue. Was that because their relationship wasn’t serious? Or because their relationship was?

He handed her the bag.

With a steady hand, Sarah squeezed the mixture into the cannoli.

Eduardo wagged a finger and took the bag. “You have to squeeze firmly and consistently.” He filled the cannoli like an expert pastry chef, placing a rosette dollop on the top. He cocked a brow and gave a devilish grin.

As she rolled her eyes, Sarah snatched back the bag. She did her best to emulate his process, forgoing the flourish on the top.

Eduardo gave a nod of approval.

As the stack of unfilled cannoli dwindled, uneasiness crept into Sarah’s chest. She had no idea how he felt about Antoinette. “So…. have you been together long—you and Antoinette?”

Eduardo laughed. “You sure are asking a lot about her.” He wiped his hands on his apron, placed his hand on Sarah’s waist, and spun her. “Are you bothered that I’m seeing someone?”

“Why should I be bothered?” Sarah delivered her well-rehearsed response. She let the silence hang for a second. “Would you be bothered if I was dating someone?”

“You mean other than me?”

She smiled—now, they were getting somewhere—and nodded.

He pulled her closer, locking his gaze with hers. “Yes, Sarah. It would bother me very much.”

A wide smile spread across Sarah’s face. This revelation was more than she could have hoped for. She reached up to embrace him.

“Papa! Papa!” Lucia called as she pranced into the kitchen.

Eduardo dropped his hand from Sarah’s waist. “Yes, Lucia?”

“Have you finished your alone time with Miss Mill—I mean Miss Sarah yet?”

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh.

“I suppose, Lucia.” He turned to Sarah. “Let’s finish our conversation later.”

With a nod, Sarah exited the kitchen, wondering if she might have some more alone time later that evening.