on the counter. “I’m fine.”
“Do you need to talk?”
Her breath shuddered into her lungs, heavy with the need to sob, but she straightened her shoulders. “No. I’m fine.”
She was always fine. In eight years, she hadn’t broken down. She’d done her duties. Raised her sister. Taken care of Signor Bartolini. And even planned a real future when she enrolled in university for next semester. She had everything under control. She did not need a shoulder to cry on, someone to take care of her. She was strong.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t want one more night with Mic. One night when she wouldn’t feel alone.
Mic understood Lily avoiding him the next few days at the restaurant, but he didn’t like it. He scheduled himself for the same day off that she had, but she didn’t go to the coffeehouse as she had on her other day off.
He sat in the quiet bistro, waiting for her, not quite sure what he expected. He only knew that kiss had been explosive. The way she’d clung to him gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, a need to protect her so fierce it threatened to consume him.
After tossing his coffee cup into the trash on the way out, he pushed open the door and breathed the very cold air of Monte Calanetti in January. He decided to take a walk, but didn’t get too far before he saw Lily coming out of an older, but renovated building. He stopped. Not seeing him, she turned to the left and headed up the street. He stared at the building. She’d struggled after he’d left. So what was she doing coming out of a newly renovated building this early in the morning? Unless this was the home of her lover?
Jealousy, swift and hot, raged through him. He followed her up the street, keeping a safe distance, not quite sure what he expected to see. The coffeehouse was in the other direction. So he knew she wasn’t going for coffee for her lover. But maybe a bagel from the bakery?
That quickened his steps. He didn’t know why he cared so much. He’d had lovers over the past eight years. But Lily … was his. Or had been. Maybe it was time to remember that?
He nearly turned to walk away, but she shifted to the right, across the street, toward the fountain.
The place where wishes come true?
He shook his head, thinking that was crazy, then his thoughts speeded up. What if she was wishing for him? Wishing things were different?
He crossed the street and walked up to her as she stood staring at the water that rose then fell almost like a melody.
“Hey.”
She turned as if he’d startled her. “Hey.”
Her knit cap had been pulled low to protect her from the cold, calling attention to her round brown eyes. The long hair beneath the cap curled around her shoulders.
His heart stuttered. In all his travels, he’d never met a woman as beautiful.
“Here to make a wish?”
Her lips turned down in self-deprecation. “Sounds silly.”
He rifled in his pocket for a coin. “Or maybe good?”
“I’m not wishing for you.”
He laughed. “That’s my Lily. Get right to the point.”
“Would you rather I was dishonest?”
He’d rather she was in his bed. Warm. Naked. Laughing. But he didn’t know if sleeping together would bring them closer or drive them further apart, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her hating him. He couldn’t bear the thought of hating her anymore either.
So maybe it was better to let them be friends. He presented the coin to her. “Whatever your wish, I hope it comes true.”
She took the coin and tossed it with a laugh. “Maybe I should wish for you.”
“Oh, now you can’t tell a man that, toss a coin and expect me to walk away. Especially since I know the legend.”
Studying his silly expression and not sure if he was teasing, Lily said, “That wishes in this fountain come true?”
“That the wishes of people who can get their coin in the clam shell come true.” He smiled and pointed. “You made it.”
She laughed and her soul lifted. It was the first time the man in Mic’s body behaved like the Mic she remembered.
“So what are you doing at a fountain on a cold morning?”
“Same thing you are.”
She smiled. “Walls of your house closing in on you?”
“Tired of sitting on my mattress, watching reruns of televisions shows on my tablet. When my aunt and uncle asked me to condo-sit, they neglected to tell me that the place was empty.”
She laughed.
His smile faded. “We really blew it, didn’t we?”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. The sadness in his voice told the story.
“Not really.” She caught the gaze of his beautiful blue eyes, took in the short hair that was growing on her, and smiled. “Mic, we were kids. Neither one of us had the ability to make enough money. And you became the man you wanted to be. The success. That’s not blowing it.”
“So what did you do after I left?” He glanced away then looked back at her, his eyes searching hers. “My God, Lily, if you didn’t think the two of us together could support us, how did you do it alone?”
She licked her suddenly dry lips. The longing to be honest warred with her hatred of sympathy. In the end, honesty won. “I lost our apartment.”
He cursed.
“Melony and I lived on the street for a week before Signor Bartolini found us one night.”
He ran his hands down his face. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t terrible. He needed a maid and as a household servant, I got living quarters.”
She could see from his expression that he disapproved. Her chin lifted. “Many good people start out as maids.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “I’m not criticizing your choice. I’m sad that you’d rather starve than depend on me.”
“Oh, yeah. And how well were you faring in France, on the pittance a first-time apprentice makes?”
“I was fine.”
Pride
