Page 87 of Italy Can Bite Me

“More like a therapist. My friends and I have regularly gone there since college. And not to brag, but our names spell out the initials CPK.”

I tilt my head, intrigued. “Tell me about your friends.”

“Petra and Cam.” A small smile plays on her lips. “We met in art history class freshman year at UCLA. One minute we were strangers debating Renaissance paintings, the next we were sharing a pizza and our deepest secrets.”

“And they were okay with you running off to Italy?”

She traces the rim of her water glass, a nervous tell I’m learning to read. “They were all for it. Petra said I needed to ‘get some sexy Italian dick to cleanse my palate.’”

“Petra sounds very wise,” I say with a grin.

“She’s a force of nature,” Katie says softy with affection. “Fearless and completely unapologetic. The kind of person who’d dig you a grave and be your alibi, no questions asked. And Cam… pure positivity in human form and so freaking talented. She can do literally anything. I’d be jealous if I didn’t love her so much.”

Her tone changes. “But after my wedding got called off, I don’t know. I couldn’t lean on them.”

“Why not? They’re your friends.”

“Petra started this corporate job she’s terrified of failing. Her brother owns the company, so she’s trying hard to prove she’s not the family screw-up.” Her voice catches. “And Cam’s dealing with this YouTuber boss from hell who treats her like a servant. They would have dropped everything. That’s who they are.”

“But you didn’t let them.”

“I’ve always beentheirrock,” she says.

The confession tumbles out as if she’s been holding it in.

“I’m the one with the plans, the answers, the solutions to every crisis. But this time…” She swallows hard. “This time I’m the crisis. And I don’t know how to be that person.”

She glances down at her hands, and I see fingernails digging into palms.

“I thought if I handled it alone, kept moving and planning and controlling everything—it wouldn’t feel so real. That I could avoid the ugly truth that everything I knew about myself, about love, about my future—it was all bullshit.”

She finally looks up, and the raw honesty in her eyes breaks me. “I’ve spent my whole life being the stable one, you know? But now I feel like I’m trying to build a puzzle with missing pieces.”

My heart lurches—I need to protect her, to comfort her, to show her that sometimes the best things in life can’t be planned.

“Maybe,” I say carefully, taking her hand, “that’s not such a bad thing.”

Her fingers tighten around mine. “Why’s that?”

“Because when you’re falling… that’s when you learn who’s willing to catch you.”

She looks at me then—really looks at me—and I see what she’s hiding. The fear. The hope. The trust she’s terrified to give again.

Today is about finding flaws, about pushing her away. But her insecurities and honesty have only made her more endearing. I want to help her discover the joy of the journey—the passion that comes from putting the puzzle together even if some of the pieces are missing.

This woman isn’t just getting under my skin. She’s exposing a part of my heart I thought was locked away forever.

CLINK!

The waiter sets two steaming pies in front of us. The smell of fresh dough, tangy tomato sauce, and bubbling mozzarella fills the air, and Katie’s eyes widen in anticipation.

“All right, Mr. Tour Guide,” she says, picking up a slice of her Margherita pizza. “Let’s see if your precious Italian pizza can dethrone CPK.”

“You’re going to eat your words. And probably half my pizza too.”

She takes a bite, and the moment the flavors hit her tongue, her eyes close, and a soft moan escapes her lips. My stomach flips like I’m the pizza she’s devouring.

“Oh my God,” she mumbles through a mouthful of cheese and sauce. “This is… this is life-changing. Matteo, I think I’m in love.”

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