Chapter 2
two
. . .
Vicky
What does a girl have to do to get hired?
That thought rattled in my mind as I sat at the patio table in our backyard in Rome.
I took a fortifying sip of espresso while scanning job openings in my field of interior design.
I loved living in this eternal city, where the marriage of the ancient and the modern was evident in its buildings and homes.
Twenty minutes away, I could visit monuments built hundreds of years ago, nestled beside sleek glass-and-metal structures.
Sighing, I thought about how I already missed my brother Enzo and his wife Corinna.
They had just left a week ago, having come for a short visit from Positano, where they lived.
My brother was older and acted like a father figure since Papa died when I started at the university.
As an ex-pro boxer, that protectiveness naturally came out for all the women in his life.
Sometimes it was just too much of a good thing.
To say that I had been sheltered was an understatement.
We lived in a decidedly middle-class area, the only one Mama would allow Enzo to buy us a home in when Papa first passed away. She said she couldn’t stay at our old house after his passing and Enzo’s near-death experience that ended his boxing career. “Too many bad memories,” she’d said.
Mama had unwittingly forged a sense of independence since becoming a widow. Enzo would be pleased to know that not only had I never had a boyfriend at twenty-four, but I’d also never even been kissed. A fact that made me sigh heavily as I continued to scan my laptop for job opportunities.
“Any luck, tesoro?” Mama asked, joining me in our tiny backyard. She had always called me her treasure and I loved the affirmation.
“No, Mama. Nothing yet.” She had been learning English and understood a lot, so I spoke to her almost exclusively in it to help her practice.
“We could ask Mrs. Battalia if she needs her house redecorated,” she said in Italian, with a hopeful expression.
I loved that she wanted to help, but no one in our neighborhood could afford such a luxury.
“Mama, I don’t think she needs a remodel. Don’t worry. Something will come up. God will provide something,” I assured her, kissing her cheek before she left for work at the kindergarten near our home.
Several of the graduates in my interior design classes had already found jobs in different parts of Italy. I’d never say this to Mama, but the idea of going somewhere new was enticing to a girl who had hardly ever left Rome.
I pushed my laptop away, grabbed my phone, and scrolled through Instagram. Corinna’s friend Sofia had married an American man named Luke several months ago.
Looking at Sofia’s IG pictures of the wedding and her trips to San Diego made my heart long for adventure.
There was so much I wanted to experience.
As much as I loved reading romance novels, and I really loved romance novels, getting married and having babies wasn’t in my plan just yet, but I daydreamed about finding a man who would look at me like Enzo and Luke looked at their wives.
My mind flashed on the handsome American man that I met at Enzo’s wedding.
Miles Austin, Luke’s brother, was the first man to make me feel jittery, like fireflies had taken flight inside my chest. Butterflies didn’t come near describing this feeling because I felt like I was lit from within.
Men had captured my attention, of course, but this man was something else altogether.
There’s got to be something wrong with him. No one is that perfect.
Blowing out a forced breath, I scrolled to the photo that had taken up too much of my brain space over the last few months, something I told absolutely no one about, except Ren. My best friend had thought it was about time I started dating and was wholeheartedly in favor of my first real crush.
In the photo, Miles was dressed in perfectly fitted dark jeans and a graphic T-shirt, tearing up the dance floor with his young daughter, MJ.
The picture might have found its way into my ‘favorites’ album late one night since he and I shared an intense moment of eye contact that still made my heart race when I thought about it.
I’d almost lost my breath, but he turned away to spin MJ, the moment broken. When he and Luke basically crashed my brother’s wedding, they weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion, and my eyes widened at the thought of this man in a suit.
His sandy blond hair was cut short on the sides but long and tousled on top, with just the right amount of scruff on his chiseled jaw. And those blue eyes? They made my heart skip a beat like a freight train.
Maybe I should cut back on my coffee consumption.
I wasn't sure of his age, but he was older than Luke, who Sofia said was thirty, making him about my brother’s age. I groaned just thinking about the possible eight-year difference.
Some of them met up a few times since the wedding, but Miles didn’t attend any of them.
It’s not stalker behavior to know these things, right?
Corinna teased me when I asked about him recently in front of Enzo, and that sparked a heated argument she never expected.
Mouthing ‘I’m sorry’ a few times during my big brother’s outrage over his little sister and an older man was enough to make me glare at her with the intensity of a thousand suns.
Corinna finally calmed him down by distracting him with a neck massage, something I really didn’t need to see, especially when his eyes closed and he groaned, his tirade suddenly disappearing.
Ew. So not necessary
I took that opportunity to hightail it out of the room. But true to form, later that night, I got a text from my brother.
Enzo: Sorry I lost it, sis. Miles is a great guy. Just not for my baby sister. He’s too old and is a single dad. Besides, no one is good enough for you. Follow your dreams. That’s all that’s important right now.
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. It was hilarious how he texted in complete sentences, even using a period. He joked that he never understood my shorthand.
His text that night made me realize something.
I’d probably never overcome his description of me.
I knew he loved me, but that’s how he saw me.
Losing Papa so early, Enzo stepped into that father role, and there were times when I wanted to tell him I needed my fun brother back.
It would have hurt him, so I kept it to myself.
Me: Ur ridiculous, ya know that right?? Was a simple ? As if…
Enzo: Good. You’re too young for all that. You’ve got a whole world to conquer first
That night, the rebel in me saved the photo of Miles. My words to my brother were true. As if a man like that would be interested in me. A grown man with his own company and a daughter to raise on his own didn’t have time for a much younger woman right out of college with no prospects.
My eyes wandered down to my body, and I sighed.
Yeah, as if…
Pushing away the familiar internal battle between my mind and my body, I brought my focus back to the present.
Zooming in on the photo with my two fingers, I studied his gorgeous face. He was like Hemsworth brothers gorgeous. The image of Miles as Thor made my breath stutter.
He didn’t seem like the kind of handsome man who was aware of his attractiveness, which only made my romantic heart swoon more.
I had been privy to many vain men my age who took more selfies of themselves than their female counterparts did on social media.
They were the kind who looked past me as if I didn’t exist.
My eyes flitted back to the photo, convincing myself it was okay to daydream about the handsome American, since I knew with certainty nothing would ever come it.
His smile didn't extend to his eyes, which I noticed when I discreetly snapped the photo.
“What are you hiding, Miles Austin?” I said aloud, noticing the deep lines on his forehead, my heart wishing it could erase whatever pain put them there.
I set my phone down with a thud and leaned my chin into my hand, pushing away my half-eaten breakfast with the other. I didn’t have time for this today.
When the background photo of my family flickered on my abandoned laptop, I blew out a frustrated breath through my nose.
My family treated me like a child, even though deep love was what shaped that view.
What they didn’t realize was how much I could see into a person’s mind through their eyes and body language.
It was a point of pride that I could look past appearances to understand what was truly happening inside a person. I believed it was a gift God had given me, and I took it seriously. Of course, this gift didn’t extend to my interactions with men. They were a complete mystery to me.
So, I kept my focus on school. Interior design taught me skills in color, balance, and functionality.
But what I loved even more than finding the perfect piece of furniture or paint color was learning about the psychology of understanding your client.
Although I lacked experience, I realized from my on-the-job experiences with my mentor from the university that listening to their stories provided the answers to creating the client’s ideal homes.
For my graduation project, I helped oversee a client’s remodel.
While my mentor spoke to the clients, I noticed their young daughter seemed distressed and nervous about her new home, clinging to a storybook as if it were a lifeline.
I suggested that they create a tentlike space, decorated with colorful pillows and her favorite books, somewhere she could go that made her feel calm.
The client was thrilled, and my mentor praised me for the idea.
I let out a heavy sigh, grabbed my cup, and headed back inside for another espresso, abandoning my earlier thoughts of cutting back. Today seemed like a three-cup day. When I stepped outside again, my phone was vibrating with a call from my friend.