32. Epilogue
Epilogue
Avery
One year later
“What is it with this city not having enough taxis?” I lean around the line of people queued up to get an elusive ride.
The woman in front of me glances back, her eyes trailing from my hair that badly needs a wash to my shoes that are more like slippers.
She huffs and mutters something in Italian before turning back around to face forward.
Apparently she did not like what she saw, and she is content to wait for a taxi in silence.
Pity. I’ve been starved for conversation for the last eighteen hours, and from the looks of this line, I’ll be here for a while longer.
I could try to pull the guy behind me into a chat, but he looks a bit too much like he could be Italian mafia with the way his eyes have been shifty since we got off the train from Rome.
He might be a perfectly nice man who is eager to get home, but I don’t know if I should take my chances.
Grabbing my phone, I refresh all my messaging apps in the hope that something might come through.
I’ve paid to have better mobile data on this trip, but I haven’t heard a word from anyone since my flight left Salt Lake.
Granted, my cousins all have their own lives, but not a peep from any of them?
I haven’t even gotten a message on my work app despite Dani’s second book coming out in less than a month.
I guess Eric meant it when he said he would handle things while I was gone.
It helps that we’re no longer a team of three. There are six of us full-time Rose & Quill employees now, and it’s really starting to feel like we’re building something that will last.
“ Mi scusi, signorina ,” a male voice says nearby. “ Hai bisogno di un passaggio? ”
Still focused on my phone, I curse my lack of Italian, though I’ve been trying to learn over the last few months. Maybe the woman in front of me would be more open to chat if I spoke her language. Most Italians know English, but crossing the language barrier shouldn’t be all on them.
“ Sei eccezionalmente bella ,” the same voice says.
A nap is starting to sound extra nice despite being the worst possible thing I could do today.
It’s only ten in the morning, and I should force myself to stay awake to beat the jet lag quickly.
But sleep . The flight was brutal, and I was stuck next to a stressed-out woman with a fussy baby.
I spent a lot of the flight trying to entertain her child and save the rest of the passengers from a long, loud night.
“ Com’è possibile che il tuo telefono sia più interessante di me , Avery Grace?”
My heart stumbles over a beat or two at the sound of my name, and I finally look up to see the owner of the voice. I break into a grin. “Benson.”
He wasn’t supposed to get here until later tonight, but there he is, leaning out the window of a taxi with a smile that leaves me breathless.
With his scruffy chin on his arm and his blue eyes bright in the Tuscan sun, he is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in weeks.
“Need a ride?” he asks, and his lips twist into a smirk.
A few people nearby start muttering in complaint, and the déjà vu of this moment nearly makes me laugh. “I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way,” I tell him.
Slipping from the car, he looks at the line of people with an exaggerated grimace. “You’re welcome to get your own car, but I don’t think it’ll be very easy.”
I raise an eyebrow and slowly step out of the line, feeling the eyes of my fellow taxi-wanters on my back as I roll my suitcase along the cobblestone. “Where did you get yours?”
Benson leans in close and speaks in my ear. “Trade secret.”
Ignoring the shiver that runs through me at his nearness, I lean back to look at him and tilt my head to the side. “No woman in her right mind would agree to a ride after a line like that.”
Benson snakes his arm around me, pulling me against his body and breathing me in. “ You did.”
“I clearly wasn’t in my right mind.”
“I’m so glad about that.”
His kiss is warm and familiar, everything I’ve fallen in love with. I melt into him, hardly caring about our rather large audience. “I missed you,” I say when I eventually break away.
Chuckling, he tucks my hair behind my ear, then grabs my suitcase to load it into the trunk. “I was only in Arizona for three weeks.”
“It was way too long.” I shouldn’t complain.
Benson started working with Phillip Rogers six months ago and has been able to spend most of his time in Utah since switching careers.
I got used to him being away while he finished up with his contracted consultant jobs before the switch, but I was spoiled these last few months, having him around.
Benson kisses me again, then opens the cab door, sliding in after me and telling the driver he can head to our hotel.
“How was your flight?” He laces our hands together, lifting them to his lips and looking at me like his world is complete now that we’re next to each other again. I will never get tired of that look.
I drop my head on his shoulder. “Terrible. How are you here? I thought your flight was coming in tonight.”
“Phillip got sick of my moping and put me on an earlier flight so I could make sure you got to the hotel safely.”
“Really?” I can’t tell if he’s being serious or teasing me, but I don’t care. He’s here, we’re together, and Florence awaits. “Do you really think I’m not capable of traveling by myself?”
He bursts into hearty laughter and then kisses me like a man starved. “I know you’re fully capable of anything you want to do,” he says against my mouth. “But I know how these Italian men can be, and you are far too much of a temptation for them to resist.”
He settles back in his seat then, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the back of the seat. He looks so content, like everything in his life is perfect now that we’re together again.
I know how he feels. This last year has been hard in a lot of ways, and the first time I had to say goodbye to him before he flew out of Utah for his next consulting job left me a complete mess.
Dani, Lucy, and Poppy had to spend the whole weekend with me to keep me distracted so I wouldn’t cry non-stop.
But Benson called me every day and sent me constant texts to tell me he was thinking about me, and he flew back the following Friday to spend the weekend with me.
That’s one of the things I’ve come to love most about Benson. No matter how many times he leaves, he always comes back.
I lift his hand and kiss his knuckles, drawing a smile out of him.
“I missed you,” he whispers, brushing my cheek with his other hand. He’s about to kiss me when the Duomo comes into view, and I shove him away, leaning into the window to get the best view as he laughs. “I see how it is,” he mutters and squeezes my hand.
“You’re pretty,” I say, “but not as pretty as this cathedral.”
“What every man wants to hear.”
Waiting until the Duomo is out of sight, I kiss Benson’s cheek and run my fingers through his hair. “You know I love you, right?”
He takes a deep breath, as if trying to inhale my words and hold them in his lungs.
“I know. I love you too.” He kisses me gently, and a thoughtful look crosses his face when he pulls away.
He doesn’t explain, instead tucking me under his arm and spending the rest of the drive to the hotel holding me in silence.
We barely make it into the lobby when an excited male voice shouts, “Bens! You made it!” Riccardo looks much the same as he did last year, except today he has a tiny baby strapped to his chest. He pulls Benson into an enthusiastic (and thankfully careful) hug, doing the same with me even though we’ve only spoken once or twice over the phone since his wedding.
“I thought for sure you were going to be too busy to come.”
“And miss you christening your daughter?” Benson chuckles and gently touches the sleeping baby’s head. “Never.”
“Do you want to hold her?”
When I watched Benson hold Kimball’s newest baby for the first time several months ago, I almost fell apart.
He was so unsure of himself, afraid of hurting him or doing something wrong.
But as he takes Riccardo’s baby in his arms and smiles down at her, there’s a new confidence in him.
And he has never been more attractive. I snap a picture, grinning when Benson gives me a knowing look.
I haven’t been subtle about wanting to move our relationship forward, and he hasn’t been subtle about letting me know that things will change when the timing is right.
As it turns out, I’m not nearly as patient as I would like to be and am eager to get to the white dress and domesticity and babies he keeps hinting at, but Benson is the one who has been slowly adapting his life to fit mine.
If I can be in a relationship with a guy for six years without it going anywhere, I can wait however long it takes for the true love of my life to be ready for a major commitment.
Having Benson in my life for the last year has been the best thing to ever happen to me, and we have both come out stronger from navigating all of this.
The baby starts crying, and Riccardo takes her back, smiling down at his tiny daughter. “I’m glad you’re here,” he tells Benson as he tucks the baby against his chest. “But I should get this little lady back to her mama.” He narrows his eyes. “You booked a room this time, right?”
Benson laughs and brushes the baby’s head once more. “Don’t worry. I’ve been planning this trip for a while.” The smile he gives me makes me melt into the floor.
We may be here for the christening, but I’m pretty sure Benson has other plans as well.
“Is there anything better than Florence at sunset?” I ask and lean into Benson’s chest behind me.
He tucks his arms around me, chin resting on my head. “I can think of a few things, but this is pretty great.”