Page 24 of Just for a Taste

“I think, Signorina Bowling, that true love is a rapacious thing. The stronger it is, the further it crawls into your chest and infuses into your every breath. It pulses through your veins and embeds itself into your heart, your lungs, your liver, your organs. When it dies, whether by choice or by mortality, all it leaves behind is a mass of rotting, necrotic flesh. It is a beautiful, inoperable cancer. That is what I think.”

I held his gaze for several moments, and he returned it wordlessly. Then I broke it and placed my hand back on the door.

“I see,” I murmured before leaving. “So we feel the same after all.”

Chapter 12: Serenata Notturna

The tea and tarts that evening were fruity, but not as overwhelmingly sweet as that disastrous meal. I glanced at the clock. 7:33. Based on his pattern the previous times we met, Duca de’ Medici would be here in exactly two minutes.

I poured another cup, took another sip, and closed my eyes. Despite how strangely amicable our conversation had ended today, the disaster of the day prior still swirled in my stomach.

“My apologies for the other day. With saying you were trying to butter me up, that is.”

I jumped, spilling a bit of tea on myself (luckily, it had cooled), at the realization that Duca de’ Medici had materialized before me. He was dressed differently than on previous days—more casually. At least, his equivalent of casual. He had already allowed his suspenders to slide down the shoulders of his loose button-down shirt, and his dress shoes were propped up on a footrest. A vintage suede jacket was around the chair behind him, paired with a matching flat cap on the ear of the chair.

After attempting in vain to wipe the pinkish stain from my white skirt, I gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

“It isn’t, though. That was presumptive of me.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not …used to having people around me. I’m not used to talking to people.”

I shrugged as casually as I could manage and pushed the plate of cookies toward him. “Me either, in case you couldn’t tell. Like I said yesterday, I was never very good at it.”

Duca de’ Medici gingerly plucked a cookie and took a small bite. He tried not to grimace at its lack of sweetness, but I still caught the small twitch of his lip. “I’ve lived here now for over a year. Noor talks to me on occasion, but otherwise, there’s no one.”

“Noor mentioned there isn’t any mail or phone line up here. Is that not possible to install?”

“It was an elective decision not to do so. It’s difficult to rot with company present.”

He spoke with an air of somberness I hadn’t seen in him before—not flamboyant or exaggerated, despite the dramatic wording, but genuinely desolate. Duca de’ Medici returned the cookie to his plate with an air of finality.

Unsure of how to follow up on such a comment, I opted to return to the previous topic. “I’m sorry for spitting cookie all over you.”

He echoed my previous shrug. “No, I entirely deserved it.”

I raised a brow at his unusual gravity. Sure, hewasrude, but this sort of reaction was… excessive, to say the least. And, by all appearances, not put on. “It really isn’t that big of a deal.”

Duca de’ Medici’s response was instantaneous, as keen as it was quick. “It is if it upset a guest.”

I stammered over my words for a few seconds, then swallowed them down with tea. How could one reply to such a statement? I had been upset, sure, but awkwardness lingered more than any resentment, especially after his kindness earlier. I lifted my cup to my mouth, but there was no tea left. I feigned swallowing it anyway.

After a while, Duca de’ Medici spoke once more. “I reread several of the sonnets. They’re quite beautiful. His love for Laura, for a dead woman, oozes from every word. I confess I hadn’t given them a proper chance.” He paused to see if I was going to cut in, running his fingers through his hair yet again. “Um, when I was younger, I wrote a lot of sonnets around when I stopped talking to my cousin. I don’t associate that form of poetry with pleasant times. But, uh, I digress. What are your thoughts?”

I studied the man in front of me. He was a nervous wreck, just as I had been.

“We don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to,” I said slowly, then picked up my pace when an idea struck. “We don’t have to stay here at all, actually. It’s kind of intimidating, you know? Maybe it would be good to try something else.”

Duca de’ Medici’s eyes flickered back and forth, and he scrunched his brow. Finally, as some unknown thought passed through his head, everything relaxed. “I could show you somewhere outside, near the abbey,” he said cautiously, deliberately, every word dripping with hesitation. “If you would be okay with that.”

I smiled. “That would be lovely.”

∞∞∞

The night was temperate, and if it not for the gentle breeze, the air might have felt heavy with humidity. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the petrichor.It’s been far too long, I thought,since I’ve been outside, especially after the rain.

When I opened my eyes again, I could see Duca de’ Medici studying me in my periphery. I glanced over to meet his eyes, and he looked away quickly, running his hand through his hair. He finally stepped to my side.

“It’s . . . nice out. It rained. From the sky and all.”

I bit my tongue to stifle a laugh. Was this his attempt at small talk? If so, it was a rather pathetic one.

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