Page 7 of Better Than Gelato
Definitely the grandson of a mafia don sent up north to infiltrate the banks.
Carmen herself is from Peru and makes it clear she has no plans to go back.
“Jake is meeting us at the church,” Carmen continues. “He’s also here for a year. He works at a hospital outside the city, some sort of doctor. But he’s American like you.”
I keep my facial expression neutral, but inside I groan.The last thing I need is a dorky American sticking to me like Velcro.
The gang arrives and Carmen makes introductions. I try to look like a normal, cool, American girl that they would totally love to be friends with. I get a lot of cheek kisses andbenvenutas.
“I am Paolo Zarantonella,” Paolo says taking my hand and kissing it. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Somehow, Carmen forgot to mention that Paolo isoutlandishlyhandsome. Full lips, thick wavy hair, dark eyes lined with thick lashes. He’s wearing fitted black slacks with a white dress shirt and cufflinks. His shoes are dark and shiny.
“Ciao,” I stutter.
Paolo immediately wants to know how long I’ve been in town and why Carmen’s been hiding me from everyone.
“I haven’t been hiding her,” Carmen says. “I met her tonight.”
“That’s no excuse,” Paolo says, keeping his eyes on me and smiling in a way that makes my toes wiggle.
Diego bounces over and stands next to him. “Ciao,Julieta! Where are you from?” he asks. He looks younger than Paolo, and his full cheeks remind me of my three-year-old nephew.
“California,” I say.
Diego’s eyes light up with excitement. “Do you live by any movie stars?” he asks.
“No,” I say with an apologetic smile.
“I’m going to be an actor in Hollywood one day,” he says and grins. “Maybe then we can be neighbors.”
“That sounds like a great plan,” I tell him.
Valentina gives me a shy smile and walks over. She’s wearing a simple white dress that would look plain on anyone else but looks stupendous on her. Her long dark hair is held back with a rhinestone clip.
“Welcome to Italy,” she says. “And welcome to our group. Some of us are crazy,” she looks over at Paolo and Diego, “but we have a good time.”
We take a short bus ride and get off in front of the most gorgeous church I’ve ever seen. Il Duomo is impressive for its sheer size, but this little church, with stained glass windows and lovely arches, is a work of art.
Paolo notices me admiring it and comes over. “This is la Chiesa di Sant’Ambrogio. It’s the oldest church in Milan.”
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“I’m glad you like it. Italians make the most beautiful things.”
“Well, thank you, Paolo, for making this beautiful church. I love it.”
“Not a problem,bionda. Just let me know if there’s anything else you’d like, I’ll have my people make it for you in a moment.” His smile is so charming I’m momentarily stunned.
Carmen waves her arms for us to come into the church before the program starts and we enter through heavy metal doors. My gaze is drawn to the vaulted ceilings covered in cherubs and trimmed in gold.Wow.
Carmen leads us to our seats as a large woman in a tight dress the color of sapphires comes to the front. We must have missed her introduction. She launches right into “Nessun Dorma,” and I’m secretly pleased it’s a piece I’ve heard before.
Take that, ignorant American stereotypes!
Her voice fills up the whole chapel and makes the candles flicker. The crowd yells and claps dramatically.
“Brava! Brava! Ancora! Ancora!”
