Love & Gelato(57)

“Ren, she never said that he was my father.”

“What?”

I spun around. “My mom never said that Howard was my father. All along she talked about him like he was just her best friend.”

His eyes widened. “Davvero? So why did you think he was?”

“Because of my grandma. She said that Howard’s my father, and my mom never told me that because she wanted me to give him a chance without being mad at him.” I put my hand to my heart—it was trying to knock down my ribs. “Obviously I don’t look anything like Howard, and Ren, look.” We both looked at the screen again.

“There’s got to be some kind of explanation. Maybe . . .” He trailed off.

There was absolutely no room for “maybe.”

“And ever since I got here people have been telling me I look Italian. You said so when we met on the hill. Oh my gosh. I’m Italian. I’m Italian!”

“Half-Italian. And, Lina, calm down. Being Italian isn’t the end of—”

“Ren, do you think he knows? Do you think Howard knows?”

He hesitated, looking at the picture again. “I don’t know. He has to, right?”

“Then why is he going around introducing me to people as his daughter? Oh, no.” I doubled over. “The night we went to Elena’s he had people over and I overheard one of them ask if I was ‘the photographer’s daughter’ and he said yes. He didn’t say I was his, too.”

“But he told me he’s your dad. That first time we talked. And Sonia says he is too, right?”

“So either they’re all lying or they believe it.” I put my head in my hands. “Ren, what if only my mom knew? What if that’s the reason she sent the journal? So that I would know the truth even if no one else did?”

Ren grimaced. “Would she do that? That seems pretty . . .”

Mean? Insensitive? Pick one.

I shook my head. “I don’t know anymore. Ever since I started reading the journal I’ve been wondering if I even really knew her.” I looked at the screen again. “Just last night I was thinking that she and Howard had to get together really soon, because my birthday is in January. But I guess there’s no rush. She must have already been pregnant when she moved in with him.”

“So now what?”

I took a deep breath. “We have to call Matteo. I have to go meet him.”

“Whoa, Lina, that sounds like a bad idea. Why don’t we go talk to Howard first? Or at least finish the journal.”

“Ren, please! I think it’s what my mom wanted me to do. And I can’t face Howard like this. I can’t. Is that Matteo’s number at the bottom?” I grabbed my phone and tried to dial it, but my hands were shaking too badly.

“I’ll do it.” He took the phone from me. “Should I just call the number to his gallery?”

“Yes. See when it’s open. And where it is. How will we get there? Can we drive your scooter to Rome?”

“No, we’ll take a train. They run all day.” He leaned forward, the phone pressed to his ear. It was ringing.



Ren drove as fast as he could all the way to the train station, me clinging to him like a lunatic monkey. We’d looked up the train schedule online and had found an express train leaving in twenty-six minutes. We’d made it there in twenty-four.

“We made it. We made it,” I panted.

Ren collapsed into an empty seat. “I’ve . . . never . . . run . . . that fast.”

I pressed my fingers into my ribs. I had a horrible side ache. “What . . . were the chances . . . that a train . . . was running right now?”

He took a second to catch his breath. “They go all day, but this is one of the fast ones. And we need fast. Because if my parents find out I’m taking you to Rome to meet some random guy, they’ll kill me. And Howard will drop me in a boiling vat of oil.”

“Matteo isn’t some random guy. And Howard . . .” I groaned. “This is so awful. He’s already had his heart broken by my mom, and now he’s going to find out he doesn’t have a daughter, either.”

Just then the intercom came on at an earsplitting decibel, and we both clamped our hands over our ears as a man made a long announcement in Italian. Finally the announcement stopped, then there was a screeching sound, and the train slowly began to move out of the station. This is happening. This is really happening.

“You have the journal, right?” Ren asked.

“Right.” I pulled it out of my purse. “I’m going to read the whole way. How long until we get there?”

“Ninety minutes. Read fast.” He propped his feet up on the seat across from us, then leaned back, shutting his eyes.

“Ren?”

He opened his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I promise I’m normally boring.”

“I doubt that.”



MAY 9

The semester is wrapping up. Simone and Alessio finished early. They managed to get jobs working together at a museum in Naples, and we’re all just relieved they won’t have to split up. Who would they fight with? Adrienne finished early too, but she left without saying good-bye.

Now that our group has dwindled to just the three of us, Francesca, Howard, and I spend so much time together that we joke that Howard should just save money and move in with us. Classes are done, but we technically have a couple of weeks before we have to turn in our final projects, and I’ve already started assisting Petrucione.