Chapter 26
Giorgio
The big day finally arrived.
Two weeks after I’d made my promise, I walked into the café.
I didn’t do anything outwardly different. It was a visit like all my others…
But my heart was hammering in my chest.
If she was busy, I would wait until tomorrow –
But if she wasn’t, then I was going to ask her out.
I did bring a little gold necklace with me – a tiny, delicate thing that weighed half an ounce. I’d bought it from one of the shops on the Ponte Vecchio, the ‘Old Bridge’ over the Arno River where all the jewelry stores were.
As I walked in, I called out cheerfully, “Buongiorno, Biondina.”
She glanced over at me, and a huge smile bloomed on her face. “Ciao, Giorgio. Espresso?”
“Please.”
As she fixed it for me, I asked her how her day was so far.
After a bit of back-and-forth, I told her a dad joke.
Why did the cake cross the street?
Because it saw a fork in the road.
After she rolled her eyes, she had one for me – the first time she’d ever done that.
“I came up with a joke for you about retirement,” she said with a straight face. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work.”
I looked at her –
Then groaned.
She burst out laughing at my reaction.
“Oh my god,” I said, half joking and half serious, “tell me that’s not how bad mine were the last two weeks.”
She grinned. “Most of the time, yours were worse.”
“Well, now I’m worried.”
“About what?”
My stomach twisted in knots as I said, “That you won’t go out with me.”
Her smile froze –
And then slowly faded.
My heart sank.
Disaster.
I pressed on, trying to salvage the situation.
“Just a drink,” I said off-handedly. “Nothing serious.”
She looked like she was in pain. “Giorgio…”
“I would suggest we go for coffee,” I joked, “but I thought I should get you out of the office.”
She just looked at me sadly.
“…no?” I asked.
She slowly shook her head ‘no.’
It felt like a knife had plunged into my guts.
“…okay,” I said softly, struggling hard to keep my smile in place. “Well, you gave me a chance, and I appreciate it. As promised, I won’t bother you anymore. It was a pleasure, Emilia. I wish you the very best.”
“Giorgio – ” she started.
“It’s better this way,” I reassured her.
I laid down my customary tip on the counter and hid the necklace underneath so she couldn’t see it. Then I gave her one last smile and headed for the door.
Finally, I could relax my face.
Finally, I didn’t have to fake it.
I heard her cry out behind me. “Giorgio!”
I turned, hoping against hope that maybe she’d changed her mind.
She was holding up the necklace and staring at it.
Then she looked at me and said in a pained voice, “I… I can’t accept this.”
This time when I smiled, it was sad, but it was real. “I’d like you to keep it. Something nice to remember me by if you ever go back to Milan. Not just a keychain.”
Then I turned and walked out of the shop.