she never fell in love with me. We were two people brought together by accident, really, and with my upbringing, I thought I was doing the moral thing in marrying her and being a father. I had no idea that perhaps not everyone is meant to be a parent.” I run my fingers over a rose petal. “I know that I am supposed to be a father, though. So there is that.”
“I guess this makes more sense to me now,” she says after a moment. “I couldn’t imagine how you two got together. You seem so different.”
“We couldn’t be more different,” I tell her. “Though we both have tempers, and that certainly doesn’t help. I met her one night. I was young and I had just taken over my father’s gallery. She had come in to look at the art. She was so bold and assertive. Anyway, need I go on?”
She shakes her head quickly. “No.”
Good.
“Speaking of the gallery,” I say, switching the subject. “How about we have lunch in Lucca again? Might as well since I would only be cooking for the two of us. Then I can show you the gallery.”
Her eyes dance as she looks up at me. “Can we take the Ferrari?”
“The Berlinetta Lusso?”
“Whatever that shiny black thing you’ve been driving is.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
A joyous smile spreads across her face. “Let me just grab my purse,” she says, then runs toward the house.
I stroll toward the car, a little more spring in my step. It’s silly to feel like I’ve been able to impress her with my car, and yet I can’t deny the feeling. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone I’ve even wanted to impress. Every corner of my life has been wrapped up in Vanni and in art, for as long as I can remember.
It’s not long before she’s locking the door behind her with the skeleton key and running toward the car, still smiling. If I’m not mistaken, she’s added a bit of makeup to her face. She looks radiant, sexy. Of course she looked that way before too.
“Get in,” I tell her, opening the passenger side door.
She gives me a grateful smile and steps in while I close the door and go to the other side.
I buckle myself in, watching in amusement while she runs her hands over the supple leather of the camel-colored interior. “This … now this is a sexy car,” she says.
“She gets sexier.” I grin at her and start the engine. It roars to life, purring underneath me.
Then I’m slamming the car into reverse, whipping it around the gravel lot, and tearing off down the road.
Grace lets out a girlish yelp, immediately gripping her seatbelt as we burn it around a corner. I know I shouldn’t be showing off like this, but I can’t help it, especially as she’s jostled in her seat and her dress rides up, showing off her smooth legs.
I try to keep my eyes on the road, though it’s hard when there’s a gorgeous giggling girl beside me having the time of her life.
The only problem with letting a Ferrari really open up is that the drive is that much shorter. We’re at a pay parking lot outside the city walls in record time.
“So?” I ask her as we get out of the car. “What did you think?”
She laughs, a sound that makes me feel like I’m floating. “I think you’re a menace to society.”
Now it’s my time to laugh. “Maybe. But still sexy, right?”
“You? Or the car?”
“Why not both?” I shrug.
She doesn’t answer, but from the coy turn of her lips, I take it she means both.
This time I decide to take her to a different, quieter part of Lucca for lunch. We find a spot on Piazza Napoleone under the shade of a giant chestnut tree, and instead of wine, I insist she has an Aperol Spritz.
“Like all the Instagrammer influencers have,” she says as the waiter plunks the orange drinks down. “Always wanted to try it but … since I usually drink wine alone at home, that’s never happened.”
“Not much for the bar life?”
Her face scrunches. “No. I’m a proud hermit.”
She raises the glass to her lips, and I keep my eyes glued to her, watching for her expression as she takes her first sip.
She starts smiling, then laughing, hiding her smile with the drink.
“Tastes funny?” I ask.
“No, tastes great. You’re making me laugh, watching me like that. Stop it.” She giggles and waves her hand