Page 50 of Livia in Rome
‘But this bar isn’t just about me. It’s about something bigger. It’s about the people who believe in it – people like my granddaughter, Livia.’ Her eyes are on me now, bright and suspiciously watery. ‘We haven’t had the chance to grow close, and that’s something I’ve regretted for a long time. But since she’s been here, Livia’s shown me just how much we have in common – how much I’ve missed. Her ideas, her determination, her heart – they’ve brought all of you here tonight.’
Giulio leans in, breath warm against my ear. ‘I’ve known Nina all my life, and I had no idea she even had tear ducts.’
I poke his side. ‘Shhh! I’ve been waiting years for this!’
‘And Giulio...’ Nina continues, her gaze shifting to him.
I cross my arms and mutter just loud enough for him to hear. ‘See? There you go again, stealing the limelight.’
His lips curve into a knowing smile, and for a moment, we’re back on the rooftop – Giulio worried I’d replace him and me anxious he already had. It feels like ages ago.
‘Today, he sold his nonna’s Vespa – the one thing he loved almost as much as this bar – to help us stay afloat.’
There’s a murmur in the crowd.
Giulio shakes his head. ‘How does she know all this...she just got here.’
‘For anyone who can give just a little more tonight,’ Nina continues, ‘I promise you, it won’t be for nothing. For every contribution, we’ll have something waiting for you at the counter – a coffee, a croissant, a token of our gratitude. You’re not just saving a bar tonight, you’re saving a family’s history and future, and the heart of this growing, changing community.’
I brush the back of my hand against Giulio’s, the way he brushed mine at the hospital. ‘Nina’s right, you know...you made a huge sacrifice today.’
Giulio grasps my hand fully and laces his fingers through mine. ‘I had to make sure you had somewhere to keep coming back to.’
A mini fireworks display erupts in my chest and, for a second, I forget about the bar, the fundraiser,even Bertolli. All I can focus on is him; the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only person here. And all I want is to close the gap between us, to forget everything else and—
Ma hands us each an empty wine cooler. ‘Quick...pass these around.’
The moment shatters, but the energy around us doesn’t. People reach into their pockets, offering whatever they can. Others grab their phones to donate through Sofia’s crowdfunding link, which she’s just announced is still open into the microphone.
And right before the clock strikes midnight, it’s Ma who takes centre stage, her voice shaking as she cries, ‘We’ve done it! We’ve hit the goal!’ She leans down to hug Nina and my heart soars as they cling to each other. Then Nina reaches out to pull me and Giulio into the embrace, and we wrap around the wheelchair in an awkward group hug.
Over the top of Nina’s head, I spot Bertolli sneering at the celebrations before he slithers off, swallowed by the celebrating crowd.
I look for Signora Pedretti, expecting to find her, microphone in hand, milking her moment in the spotlight. She’s been so involved all day. But now...she’s vanished. Does she even know we’ve hit our goal?
I’m about to ask Ma, when the musicians strike up a tune – a lively, joyous rhythm that sends a ripple of excitement through the crowd.
Someone calls out, ‘Saltarello!’and I realize it’s one of those traditional Italian folk dances – fast-paced and full of spins, with everyone joining in whether they know the moves or not.
Giulio holds out his hand and I half-heartedly resist as he pulls me into the fray...because I don’t know the steps, but I want to be close to him. ‘What’s this?’ I mutter, stumbling over my own feet as he whirls me around. ‘The Italian teaching the foreign girl some moves?’
He laughs, his grin wide. ‘No! I don’t know them either!’
We barely keep our balance as the dance spins us in circles. It’s messy and clumsy but, for the first time in days, I feel light, free – like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, right here with him.
Giulio! Livia!Venite!’
Nina’s bossy command to join her carries over the bouncy rhythm of thesaltarelloand Giulio and I exchange brow messages before jogging over to where she’s holding court with Ma, Kenzi and my other friends.
Giulio and I are both a little breathless when we collapse on to the ledge of the fountain, squeezing in between Ren and Sofia.
‘This language swap of yours...’ Nina begins, and I think she’s frowning, though it’s always really hard to tell. ‘I’ve had a complaint from one of my regulars...and a demand for compensation.’
My face falls. Compensation? The barhasbeen busy...but has it beentoobusy? Have we taken over...pushed someone out?
‘Enrico’s insisting I buy him a new pair of trousers – your language swap has made him go up a waist size, apparently.’
Ren actually looks proud.
