Page 5 of Ciao, Amore

“Some crazy shit and a weird rhyme that I think was supposed to be an Italian rap. Let me show you.”

Dani pulled up the ad on her phone and handed it him. He read it and shook his head with a groan.

“Get Yo Festival On With The Italian Stallion!! Location: Bronx, New York. Age: Thirty-four. Holiday: Festival of San Gennaro (Naples, Italy).”

Italian Stallion. Seriously, Tino? Nico rubbed his face with disbelief as he read the next part aloud.

“Yo! Got a passport? Speak Italian? Marone, come to Italy with me for an all-expenses-paid trip to the San Gennaro Festival in Naples, and I will BLOW YOUR MIND. We’re gonna pray all day and party all night, and when I say party, I mean it. HARD. We’re gonna go ALL NIGHT LONG!! If you don’t wanna get it on, that’s cool. I still need a fake gurlfriend to keep my nonna off my culo. Don’t tell me vaffanculo! Hold my hand, pretend I’m yo’ man. Need help!! Hit me up!!”

“He’s dead. That’s it, Tino’s fuckin’ dead,” Nico said with a shrug while she laughed. “He made me sound like an idiot. And you thought this was me and answered it anyway?”

“It was funny. But more than that, it was interesting because it didn’t match up. In your pictures, you seemed different. You seemed…thoughtful. Kind.” Her eyes darted away as though she’d been embarrassed to say that.

A fast-moving tide of surprise surged through him at her description of what she thought was his character. It was probably the best compliment anyone had ever given him.

“You’re not the best judge of character,” he replied. “I’m a creep.”

Nico glanced at her as she laughed softly into her cup and had to pull his stare from those lips again. Instead, he found himself absorbed in the way she rubbed the smudgy imprint of her lipstick off the side of the rim with a slow finger.

“If you don’t mind me asking. Why does your brother think you need a fake date to hang out at your family reunion? Please don’t say you need to make someone jealous, because been there, done that. It sucked.”

“My family is very traditional. I’m the oldest of five, and except for my baby sister Gina, everybody else is married. Me being thirty-four and single makes me a blasphemer, as far as my grandparents are concerned. And my mother is dead set on me being with someone she chose for me. I don’t want to face all the matchmaking attempts that are gonna go down or the usual discussions about what’s wrong with me.”

“Forced matchmaking definitely sucks. Why not bring a real date of your own? There must be a ton of girls who would be happy to go with you. I mean, you’re okay looking,” she said with a deadpan shrug.

Another quick dart of her eyes into his, then down again, her delectably full lips twitching into a smile. Along with that, a dimple formed and deepened in her cheek, kicking him right in the gut with how adorable it was. Fucking liar. She thought he was better than okay from how she kept sneaking looks at his body, but he’d answer her. He didn’t have much to lose by telling the truth to a stranger.

“I did have someone to take. My ex. Someone I was getting serious with. Or I thought we were serious after a year. I was planning to propose at the festival until she dumped me five months ago. She just got married in June to a new dude. Her boss, the billionaire CEO of Dickhead Corp, if you can believe that made-for-TV shit.”

“Wow, almost engaged?” She paused, as if unsure how to feel about that. “Oof. I’m sorry. That must’ve hurt.” Sympathy replaced the teasing, and he shrugged, clearing his throat.

“It’s alright. It hurt my mom more. The sun shone out of Tracy’s ass, according to her.”

Dani paused. “You broke up in March, and she got married in June. That seems rather fast. Was she cheating on you?”

“She claimed she wasn’t. She said nothing happened till after we were done, but you gotta admit, the timing looks suspect. As for me, the whole thing—dating, marriage, kids? Nah. I’ve got way too many asshole tendencies to make a good husband, or so I’ve been told more than once.”

“Really? What tendencies, specifically?”

That, he wouldn’t answer directly. “A few things. And when you keep hearing the same thing from different women, chances are, they’re probably right. I am an asshole.”

Picking up his cup and swallowing coffee helped get the lump of bitterness down his throat, back to the pit of his stomach where it belonged.

“That’s the most honest thing I’ve heard a man say in a while,” Daniela said. “And kinda sad.”

“It is what it is. Look, I don’t know what else Tino told you about what he thought I was looking for. I’m pretty pissed that he would do something this reckless and involve you, and trust me, the minute I see him, I am going to kick his ass. But”—Nico inhaled—“here we are. You must have come here today for good reasons of your own. I wouldn’t mind hearing them, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sorry he had me waste your time. It was nice meeting you. And tell him and everybody else to chill. You’re going to have an amazing time with your family.”

The teasing was completely gone after he’d told her his sorry story. He regretted telling it. Maybe he should have lied or held back, but for some inexplicable reason, he wanted to share a little of himself with her. He watched helplessly as Daniela gathered up her purse and shifted to the edge of her seat. She opened the bag and was pulling out some cash when he held up a hand to stop her.

“Hey, hold on a minute,” he said, thinking fast. “This wasn’t a waste of my time. Tino said something about you moving to Italy. I really am curious about why. We’re already here, so you might as well stay and finish your coffee. Liven up this boring, lonely asshole’s life.”

Honestly, he did want to know. She was a mystery he suddenly wanted to solve. More than that, he simply didn’t want her to leave—not yet. Not until she’d told him at least one true thing about herself. Daniela was the most interesting thing that had happened to him in a long time.

She took her time deciding, the wings of her eye makeup only enhancing the already striking features while she scrutinized him. “Alright. If you really feel like hearing sad stories, I’ll tell you a fabulous tale of woe. It started with Year Zero.”

Nico rapped the table with his knuckles and nodded with satisfaction. “Shit, this is gonna be good. Are you alright with just coffee, or is this going to require a slice of pie too?”

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