Page 36 of Good Girl Gone Bad

They’d spent the morning visiting the historic downtown in the nearby town of Como. With Lily, Marco had looked at the basilicas as if seeing them for the first time. He’d appreciated walking with her along the curvy, winding roads, telling her about the town and the several others in the region. He almost wished they had more time to see more together. Oh, the cities he could show her, not only in Italy. He’d love to bring her to Athens. Sydney. London.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked when he parked in front of the art studio Arietta had suggested they visit. They could balk and leave, but that would only enhance Arietta’s interest in their situation—which, in turn, would add fuel to his brother’s curiosity. Best to deal with the problem up front.

“Yes. We go in, shake some hands, and you say how much you love painting—”

“Sculpting.” She cut him off, rolling her eyes.

“Yes. Of course.”

“Can I confess something?”

“Indulge me.”

She leaned closer, and he caught a whiff of her feminine scent. “I had the highest marks in my sculpting class.”

“Great. So this shouldn’t be so hard.”

He slid out of the car, went around the vehicle, and opened the door for her. She wore a yellow dress that made her look impossibly carefree and young. He wished he could take her in the car, or behind an alley, to address his rising internal temperature. What if he continued to find it increasingly difficult to come to terms with the fact they’d say goodbye in two weeks? Could he let her go? Would he?

She grabbed his hand in hers, an intimate gesture that came naturally to them, and one he’d never really appreciated prior to meeting Lily. Walking hand in hand never seemed like a necessity, especially for an experienced man like himself. He felt her palm sweaty against his. She was nervous about putting on this sculpting act, but not once did she try to convince him to walk away.

They entered the studio, where a plethora of artwork was displayed on small stands. Remarkable canvases for sale hung on the walls, as well as framed photos of famous celebrities who had visited the place. She squeezed his hand, and in response, he made an invisible pattern on her palm with his thumb, hoping the continuous movements soothed her.

She gave him a sideways glance, a mischievous gleam in her eyes like they communicated in their own secret language. A tremor traveled through him.

“There you are!” Arietta called, jerking him out of his thoughts as she strolled up to him from the opposite side of the room. “Come here. The kids are dying to meet Patricia.”

It was his turn to tighten his grasp on Lily’s hand, bringing her closer.

They walked in tandem to the door and found a room where several kids talked vivaciously. When they entered, a few of them continued chatting, but most grew quiet and watched them, Lily especially. What the hell had Arietta promised them to make them so interested in her?

“Ciao,” Lily said, letting go of his hand. “Thanks for the opportunity, Arietta,” she said, giving his cousin a hug.

Arietta’s face froze for a moment, but she quickly recovered and responded to the spontaneous embrace. A wave of pride threaded down his spine. Lily managed to disarm his overbearing cousin in a few seconds. Nice start.

“Thank you for coming, Patricia. They’re thrilled to see you. I told them not to hold their breath because you’re so busy, but they’d love if you showed them some of your skills. Maybe they’ll learn something new from you.” She winked at her.

“Or I’ll learn something new from them.” Lily said, studying the material displayed on the tiled counter next to a big sink. “You do water-based sculptures?”

“Yes. Natala here works at this studio and allows children to visit every month for special classes,” she said, pointing at a young woman with lustrous, long hair.

“Great. Why don’t you have a typical session with them, and I can supervise what they do in a case-by-case basis?”

“Good idea,” Natala said, with a heavy accent. “We’ve been working on vases.”

“Always a good start to do confined shapes,” Lily said.

Natala translated the idea to the children, and a few of the boys kept their gaze on Lily.

“Let’s do this,” Lily said. He knew her well enough to sense a tremble in her voice. What sounded like excitement to others carried a pang of apprehension to him. Regardless, she soldiered on, and soon the children made a line to wet the clay and begin working and playing with it.

His throat thickened. He should walk around and interact with the students, but he only had eyes for Lily. His Lily. What kind of child would he have been if he had a mother like her? What kind of adult would he have turned into—perhaps one less tainted, less objective, more susceptible to society’s idea of normal? A man who didn’t hide behind contracts and the ink of a pen to keep his emotions in check. A braver man.

A little boy with curly blond hair walked up to him, his eyes twitching like he was about to cry. “Sir, can you help me?”

He kneeled to look the kid in the eye. “I’m not great at this stuff, but I can try.”

“I wanted to make a vase for my mom.”

“Then a vase we shall make,” he said, and grabbed an apron hanging on the wall. For the next few minutes, they tried molding the clay into a bowl. The boy seemed more relaxed, smiling on occasion, talking about airplanes and dinosaurs. Marco could have given the little guy a prize and thanked him for taking his mind off Lily. At least, for the moment…

---