Love & Gelato(41)

“I thought you’d probably invite Ren to tag along.”

“I didn’t know that was an option.”

“He’s always welcome.”

“Except he’s petrified of you.” Which was ridiculous. I gave him a quick look. Regardless of his shady past, Howard looked like he was trying to emulate the perfect 1950s dad. Freshly shaved face, clean white T-shirt, winning smile.

Check, check, check.

He sped up to pass a semi. “I shouldn’t have given him a hard time last night. I can tell he’s a good kid, and it’s nice to have someone I feel safe sending you out with.”

“Yeah.” I shifted in my seat, suddenly remembering our phone call the night before. “He actually invited me to go somewhere tonight, too.”

“Where?”

I hesitated. “This, uh, club. A bunch of people from the party will be there.”

“For someone who’s been here less than a week, you’ve sure got quite the social calendar. Sounds like I’ll have to restrict all our outings to daytime.” He smiled. “I have to say, I’m really glad that you’re getting to know students from the school. I called the principal a few days before you arrived, and she said she’d be happy to give us a tour. Maybe Ren would come with us. I’m sure he could answer any questions you have.”

“That’s all right,” I said quickly.

“Well, maybe another time. It doesn’t have to be right away.” We circled through a roundabout, and then he pulled over in front of a row of shops.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Cell phone store. You need your own.”

“Really?”

He smiled. “Really. I miss talking to people. Now come on.”

The shop’s windows were coated with dust and when we walked inside a tiny old man who looked like a direct descendant of Rumpelstiltskin looked up from his book.

“Signore Mercer?” he asked.

“Si.”

He hopped nimbly off his stool and started rummaging around on the shelf behind the desk. Finally he handed Howard a box. “Prego.”

“Grazie.” Howard handed him a credit card, then passed the box off to me. “I had them get it all set up, so we’re ready to roll.”

“Thanks, Howard.” I pulled out the phone and looked at it happily. Now I had my very own number to give Thomas. Just in case he asked. Please let him be at Space tonight. And please let him ask. Because really? Even with all my parents’ drama, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.



Howard parked in the same area he had the night of the pizzeria, and when we got to the Duomo he groaned. “The line is even worse than normal. You’d think they’re giving away free Ferraris at the top.”

I eyed the line leading into the Duomo. It was made up of about ten thousand sweaty tourists and half of them looked like they were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I tilted my head back to look up at the building, but there was no sign of the bull. I probably wouldn’t be able to find it on my own.

He turned to me. “What do you say we get a gelato first, see if we can outwait the line a bit. Sometimes it’s more crowded in the morning.”

“Do you know any place with stracciatella gelato?”

“Any gelateria worth its salt will have stracciatella. When did you try it?”

“Last night with Ren.”

“I thought you seemed different. Life-changing, right? Tell you what, let’s go get a cone. Start the day off right. Then we’ll brave the line.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“My favorite place is a ways away. Do you mind a walk?”

“Nope.”

It took us about fifteen minutes to get to the gelateria. The shop was roughly the size of Howard’s car, and even though it was pretty much breakfast time, the shop was packed to the brim with people happily devouring what I now knew was the most delicious substance on earth. They all looked rapturous.

“Popular,” I said to Howard.

“This place is the best. Really.”

“Buon giorno.” A bell-shaped woman waved at us from behind the counter and I made my way to the front. This place had a huge selection. Mountains of colorful gelato garnished with little bits of fruit or chocolate curls were piled high in metal dishes, and every single one of them looked like they had the ability to improve my day by about nine hundred percent. Chocolate, fruit, nuts, pistachio . . . How was I going to choose?

Howard came up next to me. “Would you mind if I ordered for you? I promise I’ll get you another one if you don’t like my choice.”

That solved things. “Sure. Bad flavors of gelato probably don’t exist, right?”

“Right. You could probably make dirt-flavored gelato and it would turn out all right.”

“Ew.”

He looked up at the woman. “Un cono con bacio, per favore.”

“Certo.”

She took a cone from the stack on the counter, piled it high with a chocolate-looking gelato, then handed it to Howard, who handed it to me.

“This isn’t dirt-flavored, right?”

“No. Try it.”

I took a lick. Super rich and creamy. Like silk, only in gelato form. “Yum. Chocolate with . . . nuts?”