neighborhood on the south side of the city, a place I’d never been. I had to use my tourist map to get there.
I parked my bike at one of the
stazioni
on the Viale Goriziaand went to wait near Nonna’s favorite restaurant. Emilio had asked me to come early, and I was glad it hadn’t been too hard to find this place. I leaned against the wall, gazing at the shops on the other side of the canal, holding Laura’s present.
It was a pretty part of the city, and the evening was unusually warm. Everyone seemed to be taking advantage of the balmy air and the stillness. Voices echoed up the street from the far side. Couples held hands as they walked along the canal, or stood close together, looking down into the water.
I wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that I was alone only because I was waiting for someone to come hold my hand. In the last few months, I hadn’t had time or energy to be sad about the fact that I was going to be alone forever, because only a crazy Satanist like Lucifero would ever want to date me.
A nearby couple was kissing. He was handsome, with dark hair that could take a bit of ruffling. He held on to his girlfriend like she might fly off the bridge. I knew I probably shouldn’t watch them, but I couldn’t look away.
Then I reminded myself that I
was
waiting for someone. In fact, I was waiting for the most beautiful man in Milan, even if he wasn’t mine. I touched my hair and straightened the hem of my dress, just as Emilio turned the corner, walking up the street toward me. Every woman paused to look at him—probably trying to figure out who he was smiling at. Even the girl on the bridge stared over her boyfriend’s shoulder at him.
He was close to six feet tall and wore an open-necked white shirt and a cream blazer with a line so perfect it might havebeen tailored for a god. He had high cheekbones and golden skin, and his blond hair caught the evening sun. His eyes were the same color as the storm that had passed over us in the afternoon, leaving rain in the gutters, washing the city clean for this clear almost-spring night.
I heard a thudding in my ears, and for a moment thought I heard the hearts of all the women on the street, not just my own, pounding away.
But, of course, it all was completely pointless: my pounding heart, the pristine evening, my pretty dress, the looks the women gave him. It was just Emilio. I sighed.
He came up to me and said, “
Buona sera
, Mia. Not waiting inside?”
“No, it’s too nice an evening,” I replied.
He nodded in agreement, kissed my cheeks, and held out his hand for my parcel.
“I’ve asked them for a table by the window. They don’t have outdoor seating, but the food’s worth staying inside for, even on an evening like this. Ah!” He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. “Nights like this I want to flee our lovely, smoggy home. I want to go out to the country, or to the sea. Or just fly up into the sky,” he added, and smiled at me.
Sometimes I think that all I want in this world is for Emilio to go on smiling at me until we both grow old and die. But, aside from the fact that he’s my third cousin, he’s utterly out of my league
and
he’s taken. We crossed the street and went into the restaurant.
They had already set up a long table for us, with bowls of gardenias all along the center, and a view of the canal. Emilio thanked them.
“I love the light on the canal,” I said as we sat down.
“Dock,” Emilio corrected me. I rolled my eyes. A waiter lit candles, one by one. When he left, Emilio picked up one of the candles in its holder, tipping it this way and that, staring into the flame.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said at last. “I think we’ve got at least a half an hour before the others arrive.”
“You never did say why you wanted me to come early,” I prompted.
He shrugged.
“I have a hunch,” he said.
“What kind of a hunch?” I asked.
“You look nice in that dress,” he said.
I rolled my
I parked my bike at one of the
stazioni
on the Viale Goriziaand went to wait near Nonna’s favorite restaurant. Emilio had asked me to come early, and I was glad it hadn’t been too hard to find this place. I leaned against the wall, gazing at the shops on the other side of the canal, holding Laura’s present.
It was a pretty part of the city, and the evening was unusually warm. Everyone seemed to be taking advantage of the balmy air and the stillness. Voices echoed up the street from the far side. Couples held hands as they walked along the canal, or stood close together, looking down into the water.
I wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that I was alone only because I was waiting for someone to come hold my hand. In the last few months, I hadn’t had time or energy to be sad about the fact that I was going to be alone forever, because only a crazy Satanist like Lucifero would ever want to date me.
A nearby couple was kissing. He was handsome, with dark hair that could take a bit of ruffling. He held on to his girlfriend like she might fly off the bridge. I knew I probably shouldn’t watch them, but I couldn’t look away.
Then I reminded myself that I
was
waiting for someone. In fact, I was waiting for the most beautiful man in Milan, even if he wasn’t mine. I touched my hair and straightened the hem of my dress, just as Emilio turned the corner, walking up the street toward me. Every woman paused to look at him—probably trying to figure out who he was smiling at. Even the girl on the bridge stared over her boyfriend’s shoulder at him.
He was close to six feet tall and wore an open-necked white shirt and a cream blazer with a line so perfect it might havebeen tailored for a god. He had high cheekbones and golden skin, and his blond hair caught the evening sun. His eyes were the same color as the storm that had passed over us in the afternoon, leaving rain in the gutters, washing the city clean for this clear almost-spring night.
I heard a thudding in my ears, and for a moment thought I heard the hearts of all the women on the street, not just my own, pounding away.
But, of course, it all was completely pointless: my pounding heart, the pristine evening, my pretty dress, the looks the women gave him. It was just Emilio. I sighed.
He came up to me and said, “
Buona sera
, Mia. Not waiting inside?”
“No, it’s too nice an evening,” I replied.
He nodded in agreement, kissed my cheeks, and held out his hand for my parcel.
“I’ve asked them for a table by the window. They don’t have outdoor seating, but the food’s worth staying inside for, even on an evening like this. Ah!” He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. “Nights like this I want to flee our lovely, smoggy home. I want to go out to the country, or to the sea. Or just fly up into the sky,” he added, and smiled at me.
Sometimes I think that all I want in this world is for Emilio to go on smiling at me until we both grow old and die. But, aside from the fact that he’s my third cousin, he’s utterly out of my league
and
he’s taken. We crossed the street and went into the restaurant.
They had already set up a long table for us, with bowls of gardenias all along the center, and a view of the canal. Emilio thanked them.
“I love the light on the canal,” I said as we sat down.
“Dock,” Emilio corrected me. I rolled my eyes. A waiter lit candles, one by one. When he left, Emilio picked up one of the candles in its holder, tipping it this way and that, staring into the flame.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said at last. “I think we’ve got at least a half an hour before the others arrive.”
“You never did say why you wanted me to come early,” I prompted.
He shrugged.
“I have a hunch,” he said.
“What kind of a hunch?” I asked.
“You look nice in that dress,” he said.
I rolled my
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