not going to Paris.”
“Good because I’m not going to Paris either.”
By this point, they were at Gino’s Maître D podium. He reached behind him and slid her coat off its hanger. Handing it to her, usually gruff Gino grinned. “It’s cold out there. You’re going to need this.”
She caught the coat as they whipped by Gino. “Mic!”
He set her down beside his car. “Eight years ago, you gave us up so I could live my dream. Now, I give up one measly restaurant so you can live your dream.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I can work anywhere I want!” He waved his arms as if to indicate the world. “I have two offers in Florence.”
“And you’re coming with me?”
“No. We’re going together. We’re getting married. And then we’ll both live our dreams.”
Her mouth fell. Her head spun. Her heart almost believed him. “But we don’t know each other.”
“We’ve always known each other.” He paused, stepped closer. “Always loved each other.” He laid his hand on her chest. “Your heart tells me.”
Her lips trembled.
“You don’t believe me?”
When she said nothing, he shook his head. “What is wrong?”
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Say … that I love you?” He laughed. “I love you. I adore you. I have always adored you. And I will not let you tell me no this time.”
A laugh broke through her tears. She bounced to her tiptoes and threw her arms around him. “Then I say yes. Yes. I love you. Yes, I will marry you.”
She barely got the words out of her mouth before he kissed her and for the first time in eight years Lily Norelli was whole again.
A Bride for the
Italian Boss
Susan Meier
ITALY HAD TO BE the most beautiful place in the world.
Daniella Tate glanced around in awe at the cobblestone streets and blue skies of Florence. She’d taken a train here, but now had to board a bus for the village of Monte Calanetti.
After purchasing her ticket, she strolled to a wooden bench. But as she sat, she noticed a woman a few rows over, with white-blond hair and a slim build. The woman stared out into space; the faraway look in her eyes triggered Daniella’s empathy. Having grown up a foster child, she knew what it felt like to be alone, sometimes scared, usually confused. And she saw all three of those emotions in the woman’s pretty blue eyes.
An announcement for boarding the next bus came over the public address system. An older woman sitting beside the blonde rose and slid her fingers around the bag sitting at her feet. The pretty blonde rose, too.
“Excuse me. That’s my bag.”
The older woman spoke in angry, rapid-fire Italian and the blonde, speaking American English, said, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying.”
But the older woman clutched the bag to her and very clearly told the American that it was her carry-on.
Daniella bounced from her seat and scurried over. She faced the American. “I speak Italian, perhaps I can help?” Then she turned to the older woman. In flawless Italian, she asked if she was sure the black bag was hers, because there was a similar bag on the floor on the other side.
The older woman flushed with embarrassment. She apologetically gave the bag to the American, grabbed her carry-on and scampered off to catch her bus.
The pretty blonde sighed with relief and turned her blue eyes to Daniella. “Thank you.”
“No problem. When you responded in English it wasn’t a great leap to assume you didn’t speak the language.”
The woman’s eyes clouded. “I don’t.”
“Do you have a friend coming to meet you?”
“No.”
Dani winced. “Then I hope you have a good English-to-Italian dictionary.”
The American pointed to a small listening device. “I’ve downloaded the ‘best’ language system.” She smiled slightly. “It promises I’ll be fluent in five weeks.”
Dani laughed. “It could be a long five weeks.” She smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Daniella, by the way.”
The pretty American hesitated, but finally shook Daniella’s hand and said, “Louisa.”
“It’s my first trip to Italy. I’ve been teaching English in Rome, but my foster mother was from Tuscany. I’m going to use this final month of my trip to find her home.”
Louisa tilted her head. “Your foster mother?”
Dani winced. “Sorry. I’m oversharing.”
Louisa smiled.
“It’s just that I’m so excited to be here. I’ve always wanted to visit Italy.” She didn’t mention that her longtime boyfriend had proposed the day before she left for her teaching post in Rome. That truly would be oversharing, but also she hadn’t known what to make of Paul’s request to marry him. Had he proposed before her trip to tie her to him? Or had they hit the place in their relationship where marriage really was the next step? Were they ready? Was marriage right for them?
Too many questions came with his offer of marriage. So she hadn’t accepted. She’d told him she would answer him when she returned from Italy. She’d planned this February side trip to be a nice, uncomplicated space of time before she settled down to life as a teacher in the New York City school system. Paul had ruined it with a proposal she should have eagerly accepted, but had stumbled over. So her best option was not to think about it until she had to.
Next month.
“I extended my trip so I could have some time to bum around. See the village my foster mother came from, and hopefully meet her family.”
To Daniella’s surprise, Louisa laughed. “That sounds like fun.”
The understanding in Louisa’s voice caused Danielle to brighten again, thinking they had something in common. “So you’re a tourist, too?”
“No.”
