The Italian

“Yeah, sure.” I spin in my chair toward her. “What do you need?”

“There’s a commercial dry cleaner who is trialing a dry clean on a new fabric we are thinking of using next season.”

“Okay. So, it’s just a piece of fabric that I’m picking up?”

“No, we’ve made a very basic dress. We just want to see how it washes and wears. I’ll text you the address.”

“Great.”

She passes me her car keys. “You have a license here, right?”

I take them from her. “I have an international license. How I will drive with it is another story.”

She laughs. “Just don’t crash, and no rush. As long as I have it by four.”

“I’m going on lunch soon, anyway, so I’ll get it while I’m out.”

My phone beeps with the address. “Addio.”

“Addio.” I open the text and read the address. Hmm, it seems familiar. I stare at the address in front of me. Where have I seen that before?

Tower 1, 365 Amaro Ave: Level Four

Centro Direzionale di Milano

I shrug. Who knows? I grab my bag and walk out through reception. I’ll have lunch on that side of town—something different. My phone rings and the name Natalie lights up my screen.

“Hello.” I smile as I take the lift down to the underground parking lot.

“Oh my God. Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Ah!” she squeals. “I did it.”

“You did what?” I walk through the elevator doors and look around. It’s creepy down here. Dark. I look for the designated parking lot and finally locate it on the other side. Of course, it is.

“I’m coming to Milan.”

I freeze on the spot. “What?”

“I resigned from my job. I got a six-month working visa.”

My eyes widen. “Are you serious?” We have talked about her coming for months but she couldn’t get her act together.

“Yes! But don’t worry, I’ll get my own apartment.”

I close my eyes and laugh out loud. Nat and I tried to live together once before, and it didn’t go well. I couldn’t stand her one-night stands and not knowing who was coming to breakfast, and she couldn’t stand my complaining about it. “Thank God. When do you get here?”

“I haven’t booked a flight yet. My visa application only just came through an hour ago.”

“And you resigned already?” I gasp.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m getting the hell out of here.”

I laugh again. “I’m so excited.”

“Me, too!” she screeches. “Okay, I gotta go. I have a million things to organize. I’ll call you later.”