Page 81 of Prosecco with My Professor
“Damn, this place is amazing,”Jade says, walking into the kitchen of Santo’s Castel Gandolfo villa.
“I know, right?” I grin as I close the fridge door. Santo lent us his villa for our weekend getaway. He’s in Rome, unpacking our stuff and settling Zola into our new apartment, and I get to hang out with my friends before I report to the university on Monday to start a research project.
I have two months of research ahead of me, and then six weeks of the fall term, the last of my classes before graduation. My new ADHD prescription has helped, I think, but I’m nervous to see how it will work when I’m getting graded again. I liked my internship, though, and made new friends, and my boss told me to keep in touch about a full-time position.
In a few months, I’ll have my MBA.
But for now, it’s August, and it’s sweltering in the city. It was a bad time to move from Edinburgh, where I’d done my internship. There, it was downright chilly and overcast. It was a very different summer than I was used to.
I’d had a great time, though. Santo and I had rented a three-bedroom apartment near the corporate offices of Thistle & Croft Hospitality, a conglomerate that owned several luxury brands of boutique hotels in the British Isles. Santo was almost done with his book, and he’d enjoyed connecting with former students in the area.
The worst part was the accents. I’d hoped that by picking a location where English was spoken, I would fit in better, but the Scottish accent made socializing challenging. I was glad to have Santo with me.
Speaking of, I grab my phone and text Santo while Jade grabs a glass of wine and joins Tessa and Sara out on the terrace.
Emma
We made it to the villa. Everything looks great.
Santo
I’m glad. The rental car did okay?
Emma
Yeah. Getting out of the airport was a nightmare, but we survived.
Santo
Have a great weekend. Tell everyone hi. Love you and see you Sunday.
Emma
Love you too.
I step outside just in time. The sun is down over the hills, and the breeze is blowing, finally cooling the air and making it the perfect temperature.
“It’s boring,” Sara says. “The same guy wins every time. And the tickets are so expensive, but Chris wants to go.”
“Go to what?” I ask.
“The Formula 1 race in October. It’s in Austin.”
“We’ve been watching,” Tessa says. “Luc roots for Alpine, the French team, of course. But he also likes an underdog.” Here in Italy, Ferrari is the second religion. Santo, who prefers to watch soccer, still follows.
“Is there a particular reason Chris wants to go to the one in Austin and not one of the ones in Europe?” I ask Sara. “You spend half your time here.”
Sara and Chris spent most of winter in Austin leading up to South by Southwest, and then spent most of spring in London while Chris did some work in recording studios. He missed his band, who had broken up last year, but he was writing more songs than ever.
“He wants to do that, too. But tickets to the UK races are even harder to get.”
“Even for a rock star like Chris?” I tease.
Sara grins. “Even for him.”
The three of us glance at Jade. She hasn’t said anything since I came out here, and her mind is elsewhere—she stares off into the distance, eyes unfocused, not seeing the sunset or the cyprus trees. My eyebrows draw together. It’s not like Jade to be melancholy, though I know she’s under a lot of stress lately. She’s been traveling for work a lot more, giving presentations and meeting the people who use the medical hair products she develops.
“Jade?” Sara calls.
