Love & Gelato(69)

I kept going over to the window to watch for Howard, but he and the tour were moving across the grounds like garden slugs. Did they have to stop at every statue? And what was so interesting about that corner of the cemetery versus this corner? By the time they finished learning about WWII, WWIII would probably be done and over. Finally, when I thought I couldn’t stand one more second of waiting, Howard led the group back to the visitors’ parking lot and waited as they boarded the tour bus.

“You ready?” I whispered to myself.

Of course I wasn’t.

Howard walked into the visitors’ center, and then he and Sonia both came out and started walking toward the house.

Oh, no. I couldn’t tell him with Sonia around. Was I going to have to sit on this all night? When they got to the driveway I took the stairs two at a time down to the living room and met them on the front porch.

“There you are,” Howard said. “How’s your day been?”

Horrifying. “It’s been . . . okay.”

He was wearing a light blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up and his nose was sunburned. Something I’d never experienced. You know, because I was Italian.

“I tried calling your phone earlier, but there was no answer. If we’re going to make it to the movie, we’ll have to go now.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Is Ren coming?”

“No. He . . . can’t make it.” How was I going to get out of this?

Sonia smiled. “They’re playing a really old movie tonight, a classic with Audrey Hepburn. Have you heard of Roman Holiday?”

“No, I haven’t.” And could everyone please just stop talking about Rome?



Under normal circumstances I probably would have enjoyed Roman Holiday. It’s a black-and-white movie about this European princess who is doing a world tour, but her schedule and handlers are superstrict, so one night when she’s staying in Rome she sneaks out her bedroom window to go have some fun. The only problem is that she’d taken a sedative earlier in the night and so she passes out on a park bench and an American reporter rescues her. They end up exploring the city together and falling in love, except then they don’t end up together, because she has too many other demands.

I know. Depressing.

I only half watched it because I couldn’t stop looking at Howard. He had this big, booming laugh and he kept leaning over to tell me the names of places Audrey and her love interest were visiting. He even bought me a giant bag of candy, and even though I ate all of it I barely tasted it. It might have been the longest two hours of my life.

On the way back Sonia insisted I sit in the front. “So what did you think of the movie?”

“It was cute. Sad, though.”

Howard glanced back at Sonia. “You still meeting up with Alberto tonight?”

“Argh. Yes.”

“Why argh?”

“You know why. I swore off blind dates years ago.”

“Don’t think of it as a blind date. Think of it as going out for drinks with someone I really admire.”

“Anyone but you and I’d say no.” She sighed. “But then again, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ve always said that a terrible date in Florence is better than a good date anywhere else.”

Suddenly I realized I knew absolutely nothing about her. “Sonia, how did you end up in Florence?

“Came here on vacation the summer after grad school and fell in love. It didn’t last, but it got me to plant some roots here.”

I groaned inwardly. Maybe that was just part of the Italian experience. Come to Italy. Fall in love. Watch everything blow up in your face. You could probably read about it on travel websites.

Sonia met my eyes in the mirror. “You know, people come to Italy for all sorts of reasons, but when they stay, it’s for the same two things.”

“What?”

“Love and gelato.”

“Amen,” Howard said.

I looked out my window and put all my attention on keeping the tears from seeping out from under my eyelids. Just gelato wasn’t going to cut it. I wanted the love part too.

When we got back to the cemetery Howard dropped Sonia off at her house, then circled back to ours. The headlights swept eerily across the headstones, and the combination of candy and nerves was making me absolutely sick to my stomach.

We were finally alone. It was time to tell him. I took a deep breath. I’d start talking in three . . . two . . . two . . . two . . .

Howard broke the silence. “I wanted to tell you again how much it means to me to have you here. I know this hasn’t been easy, but I really appreciate you giving it a try. Even if it’s just for the summer. And I think you’re great. I really do. I’m proud of you for jumping in and exploring Florence. You’re an adventurer, just like your mom.” Then he smiled at me, like I was the daughter he’d always hoped to have, and my remaining courage melted like an ice cube in the heat.

I couldn’t tell him. Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

When we got inside I made some lame excuse about another headache, then trudged up to my room and threw myself on my bed. I did a lot of throwing myself on the bed these days. But what was I going to do? I couldn’t tell Howard, but I also couldn’t not tell him.

Would it be so awful if I just stayed the rest of the summer and then went home without telling him? But then what about when Father’s Day rolled around and he expected a card from me? Or what about when I got married and he thought he was the guy who was supposed to walk me down the aisle? What then?