Chapter 23

All through dinner, Sarah pined for a few moments alone with Eduardo. Not even Eduardo’s flaky, baked cod or spice-coated shrimp could draw her mind from the question yet to be answered. Would he give up Antoinette to be with her? Mom made several futile attempts to give them some privacy.

“Lucia, dear, won’t you help me get the coffee for dessert?” she offered.

“Papa always makes the coffee.” Lucia stood tall and smiled.

And later, after everyone licked their plates clean of cannoli filling, Mom turned toward the child. “Lucia, would you mind showing me to the bathroom?”

Lucia reached for another cannoli. “Second door on the right.”

Sarah’s mother gave a feeble smile.

Of all the times for a mother’s meddling not to work. Sarah gripped her knees under the table to keep her heels from jittering.

“Papa, can I watch TV?”

“Yes,” answered Eduardo, Sarah, and Mom, in unison.

“I’ll join you.” Mom rose from the table.

Sarah took a casual sip of her water.

Eduardo cupped his coffee. “So”—he leaned forward on one elbow—“we’ve talked a lot about me tonight. What have you been up to these past few months?” He tipped back his cup.

“Well, I would like to say I’ve visited all of Rome by now, but I’m not even close.”

“No?” He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “No long walks along the Tiber? No candlelight dinners on Via dei Coronari?”

“Long walks alone, yes.” Sarah set down her glass. “But I’ve never heard of the Via dei Coronari. And candlelight dinners? Please.” She swatted the air. “The closest I’ve come is tea at Al Forno’s with Anna. And the tea was total crap, by the way.”

“Tea!” He smacked the table and stood. “I almost forgot.” He cut the space to the kitchen in two long strides.

Sarah took advantage of his momentary absence to shift her legs from under the table, crossing them so her lean calves dangled in his direction.

Eduardo returned with a wooden box. He set it on the table and lifted the lid.

Inside was an assortment of teas: reds, blacks, greens, and even herbals, all neatly arranged in their paper parcels. “Eduardo! I can’t believe you went to such trouble.”

Smiling, he shrugged.

“Really.” Sarah placed a hand on his. “Dinner itself was enough. But the tea, too?”

He cupped his other hand over hers. “Eh. The octopus was chewy.”

“When isn’t octopus chewy?” Sarah laughed.

He didn’t reply; he only smiled and gently stroked the back of her hand.

Adrenaline coursed through Sarah’s veins. Why couldn’t Lucia and Mom disappear for a while? Why couldn’t Antoinette disappear indefinitely?

Focus.

She plucked her hand from his grasp and leafed through the teas. “When does Antoinette get back?”

Eduardo leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He let out a sigh through pursed lips. “A couple of days.” He flicked his gaze in the direction of Sarah’s mother. “And how long is your mother visiting?”

“The same.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Muffled Italian cartoons whined in the background. Sarah’s heart pounded. If she was waiting for a better opportunity to tell him she wanted him back, she wouldn’t find one. “Eduar—” she started.

“Does she need any souvenirs?” Eduardo said at the same time.

“Souvenirs?”

“Mrs. Miller,” he called over to Sarah’s mother, “might you be interested in a shopping outing with Lucia and me tomorrow?” He placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “And your daughter, as well?”

“Why, that sounds lovely, Eduardo. What did you have in mind?”

Sarah relaxed her shoulder under Eduardo’s grasp. Tomorrow she would tell him, for sure.

****

Just after ten the next morning, Sarah and her mother arrived at the Piazza Navona. The hallmark of central Rome was covered with vendors selling marionettes, rosaries, and glass ornaments blown in Venetian factories.

Eduardo clutched Lucia’s hand and guided her through the crowd.

With her mother by her side, Sarah walked just behind. The air sent a chill over her face but hopefully a few moments alone with Eduardo would warm her cheeks.

Eduardo pointed out a food stall selling roasted chestnuts and pressed a coin into Lucia’s hand. “Mrs. Miller, would you mind taking Lucia?”

Sarah’s mom beamed. “Only if I can get some, too.”

“My treat.” Eduardo dropped another coin in Lucia’s hand.

Lucia dragged Sarah’s mother down the crowded promenade.

When they were out of earshot, Eduardo turned to Sarah and grabbed her hand. “Are you warm enough?” He rubbed her hand between his.

“Yes.” She smiled. “I am now.”

He smiled back, his breath fogging in the air. He strolled with her in silence, hand in hand.

Words didn’t come as easily as the previous evening. Sarah knew the words that needed to be said, and perhaps Eduardo did as well. Was his silence also from nerves? Or was he waiting for her to speak first? Waiting for her to tell him she was ready for a relationship. Ready for him.

She cleared her throat. “I hear Traviata is opening soon.”

“Is it? I hadn’t heard.”

“So, you won’t be taking Antoinette then?”

He grimaced. “Sarah, things with Antoinette, they’re…”

Eduardo continued, but Sarah didn’t hear him. She only heard someone shouting her name—and the voice wasn’t her mother’s. “No,” she whispered.

“Sarah!” Marco’s voice rang clear again.

Sarah froze. Her stomach clenched.

From within the crowd, Marco emerged, pushing past Eduardo and embracing her.

Eduardo recoiled, his chocolate eyes pinching under his glasses.

Marco hugged her like she was his long-lost love. Sarah broke free from his scrawny arms. “Excuse us,” she said to Eduardo, grabbing Marco’s shirt and tugging him to the side. “What are you doing?” Her voice was as cool as the air around them.

“Sarah. Is it really you?” He reached for her again.

“Stop!” Sarah stepped back.

With a tightened jaw, Eduardo flashed a stern gaze.

Sarah returned a strained smile, raised a hand, and mouthed, “Just a minute,” then turned back to Marco with narrowed eyes. “What do you want?”

“Want?” He ran a hand through his long, flowing hair. “I don’t know. I thought we could go out again. Last time was so great.”

He stared with his puppy-dog eyes. Great? Of course, he thought last time was great. He’d gotten laid. Stepping back again, she glanced in Eduardo’s direction. Lucia and Mom were beside him now. Furrowed brows marked their faces. Heat flushed her cheeks. If she didn’t get rid of Marco fast, Mom might start an inquisition. She squared her shoulders. “Listen, Marco, I’m sorry, but…” She needed an excuse.

Across the way, Eduardo marched toward them.

Think of something…anything! Sarah’s heart pounded.

Eduardo neared.

Sarah could scarcely breathe. The only thing worse than Sister Maria knowing about her one-night stand would be Eduardo knowing.

Aha—Eduardo! He was just the excuse she needed, especially since Marco thought Eduardo was her husband’s name. She refocused on Marco. “I’ve gotten back together with my husband.” A gritty edge entered her voice. “And he’s here.” She flicked a brow in Eduardo’s direction. “So please, if I mean anything at all to you, please go. Now.”

Marco appraised Eduardo. His easygoing, youthful face scrunched.

“Eduardo,” Sarah called, “I’ll be right there.” She flashed Eduardo a smile then motioned to Marco with stern eyes for him to walk in the opposite direction.

With slumped shoulders, Marco stalked away.

Perhaps Marco recalled the name. Perhaps he finally realized Sarah wasn’t interested. Sarah didn’t know, and she didn’t care. All she cared was Marco was gone. She let go of the cold air caught in her chest and crept back to Eduardo. “So, what were you saying?” She placed a hand on his sleeve.

Eduardo’s gaze followed Marco into the crowd. He stiffened his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. Peering down through his glasses, his steady gaze questioning, he sighed.

Sarah’s cheek twitched, her smile faltering. If a candlelight dinner on Via dei Coronari made Eduardo jealous, how would he react to her having spent the night with Marco?

“It’s not important,” he said in a whispered growl. He turned on his heel, brushing off her hand.

Sarah stood as still as the statue of Neptune, as cold as the frozen puddle surrounding him in the fountain.

For the rest of the outing, no one spoke about Antoinette, no one spoke about the upcoming opera production, and, certainly, no one spoke about resuming their relationship.