The Italian

I put my hands on my forehead and then fake an explosion in the air with my fingers. “Mind blowing.”

She smiles.

“And I’m not moving here, I’m…” I shrug and my voice trails off.

She watches me intently. “What?”

“My life is shit back home. I’m boring and comfortable and I’ve always done the safe things in life. Where has it got me until now?”

“This is true.” She sips her wine.

“Maybe this trip is to teach me about myself.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re not getting all, Love, Eat, pray on me, are you?”

I giggle. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you should go to Bali, take up yoga and fuck the gorgeous guy in that movie like Julia did.”

I laugh. “My guy is better.”

Her eyes hold mine. “I’m just saying… be careful, that’s all.” She grabs my hand over the table. “I don’t want you to get all attached to and then hurt by a guy on the other side of the world who you think you know. Not all men are like your ex-boyfriends, Liv. This Enrico could be a huge player. Probably is if he looks like that.”

“I know.” I sigh, saddened by her reality check.

“Look.” She shrugs with a smile. “Actions speak louder than words and I could be completely wrong. Maybe he’s great and this could work out.”

“I’m not getting excited. I know what you’re saying is right. I’m going back to Rome to spend the weekend with him before I fly home, so I’ll see what happens then.”

She smiles broadly. “Good, take it slow. There’s no rush.”

“I am.”

“Has he called you today?”

“He’s working.” I rearrange my napkin on my lap. “I’ll speak to hi

m tomorrow.”

I sip my wine as I try to act casual. Why hasn’t he called me back? An annoying little alarm bell goes off in the back of my brain. I was sure he would have called me back by now.

“So, what are we going to do tomorrow?” she asks.

I smile up at her. “Everything.”

Enrico

The red embers glow in the dark and a sporadic crack signifies the wood’s demise. I stare at the flames of the fire with my two brothers beside me.

Shocked, that’s what we are.

We’re heartbroken that our father and grandfather have left us. We’re horrified at what we’ve found out about our family history. We don’t even know who we are anymore.

“Everything is a lie.” Matteo sighs sadly as he tips his head back and drains his beer.

“You must have known.” Andrea frowns as his eyes come to me accusingly. “How could you have not known? You’re a fucking cop, for Christ’s sake.”

“I heard whispers, but when I asked, I was told it was from jealousy—that people always think the worst of successful people. That all money must be bad, and the businesses were… are now all legitimate, except for a few gambling houses.”