sette
Francesco didn’t respond to Lucia’s pleading texts that night: Scusami tantissimo , and Dimmi dove sei . She wasn’t really surprised, given the way he had looked back at her across the market stalls. That shake of the head played on a loop in her mind and it knotted her stomach. Lucia hoped that in the light of day things would have settled between them so she could apologise properly in person. But experience had taught her that Francesco was a holder of grudges, and she, often being too stubborn to apologise, only antagonised him further.
‘ Buongiorno ,’ she said sheepishly as he arrived a little later than usual the next morning. ‘You never replied to my messages last night.’
Francesco, despite his calm facade, was seething. ‘Lucia,’ he started, ‘I would like to preface what I am about to say with the following disclaimer: Ti amo .’
‘And I love you t—’
But his raised hand shut her down. ‘I acknowledge that you are very emotional and anxious at the moment. Between losing Jacopo and now the situation with the school, I understand that there is a lot going on in your life. And I understand how, in the brain of Lucia, this often manifests as mania and panic. But . . .’ He steeled himself. ‘Last night you really hurt me.’
Lucia’s hands instinctively dropped to the wooden surface of the welcome desk. ‘Checco . . .’
‘Stop!’ He shook his head. ‘ No . No words, please. It’s time you show up to this friendship with actions. Real actions. You live in your own bubble sometimes, and I am poised to pop it. Capito ?’
While she appreciated his honesty, she was hurt by his assessment, but she chose to just take it. For now. ‘ Grazie . And I am sorry. I shouldn’t have disappeared like that. I left you—’
His dismissive wave interrupted her. ‘That’s not what I am upset about. It’s the fact that you did so while I was pouring my heart out to you. When I really wasn’t ready to, but you kept pressing the issue. Of all the moments . . .’
‘Checco, I thought the man was right there .’
‘But that’s just the point. He,’ Francesco gestured across the street, ‘means nothing to you. You don’t know who he is. His name. Anything about him. And you chose him over me in a very vulnerable moment.’ He caught the corner of his bottom lip in his teeth.
She didn’t know what to say. In fact, she realised, nothing she could say would fix this situation. ‘Again, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t him . I felt like a proper fool.’
‘Don’t hate me for saying this, but I’m glad.’
‘Glad that it wasn’t him, or glad that I felt—?’
‘Both.’ His right foot tapped on the spot. ‘You just need to reassess your priorities right now. And it shouldn’t have to be said.’
This, Lucia agreed with. Securing Jacopo’s share of the school had to be her number one priority. ‘ Grazie for the reset, Checco. I needed this.’
‘Do you still love me?’ His trademark cheeky grin returned.
‘I kind of have to.’
Francesco made his way behind the welcome desk and wrapped his arms around her. As if to draw a line under the subject, he said, ‘Now, have we had any good news overnight?’
Lucia flicked open the school’s laptop and turned it around so they could both see it. ‘Pre-approval for a loan has come through.’
‘Already?’ His eyes widened as he scanned the email.
‘Banks can move quickly when it comes to squeezing interest from potential borrowers.’
Francesco laughed, but then his eyes landed on the final sum. ‘Oh. Is that all?’
Nodding, Lucia said, ‘I suspect that’s the stretch. We’ll need something more than just the loan.’ She exhaled as Francesco’s brows drew together. ‘Something much bigger. You don’t have 180,000 euros to spare?’
He snort-laughed. ‘ Mi dispiace ! But I do have something that might cheer you up.’ Fetching his phone from his pocket, he opened his email and tapped on a message. A PDF filled the screen and he zoomed in on the details. Passing it to her, he said, ‘For you. And me.’
Lucia’s brilliant green eyes scanned the words, then her face flattened. ‘The masquerade ball?’
‘Yes. For la vigilia di San Valentino . Friday the 13th. It will be great.’
Lucia suddenly felt exhausted; the idea of dressing up and dancing in a room full of strangers drew the final drop of energy from her soul. ‘Checco, it’s a lovely idea, but I am not in a party mood at the moment. Thank you, but it’s best if you take someone else. Take Stefano.’
‘I want you to come with me, Lucia. I’ll see Stefano for San Valentino .’
She shook her head decisively. ‘I can’t. Scusami .’
Lucia could see his spirit deflate before her. ‘If you change your mind, the invitation is there for you. When you come to your senses.’
She gave a sheepish smile and dropped into the chair behind the welcome desk. ‘Speaking of San Valentino . With the ball on the Friday, what should we do for our aperitivo party?’
‘Let’s host the aperitivo on the Thursday. Maybe a costume party? Leave Friday night free for them, in case they want to attend the ball.’
‘Done.’ She reached across and pulled Francesco close. ‘ Grazie , Checco. And, just in case I didn’t make it clear, I am really happy for you and Stefano.’
The pair was so distracted by the moment, by the email, that neither noticed the movement across Calle del Leone. La Commedia’s front door opened, then closed. They didn’t even glimpse the man who, after setting off down the street holding a bunch of flowers, stopped momentarily to peer into the front window display of the school, immediately caught by the sight of the dark-haired beauty ensconced in the embrace of her handsome male companion.
They saw none of it.
And they were the better for it.
A storm was brewing, and not just across the wintry Venetian skies.