The Italian

“Ah… um… oh.”

She hesitates, as if she’s being put on the spot. Hang on. Her delay did sound a little suspicious, I do have to admit.

“I told you, I was an events manager.”

Enrico pushes his chair out. “Unfortunately, Olivia and I have to get going.”

My face falls. “What?”

“Now.” He stands in a rush.

“But…” I frown.

He holds his hand out and glares at me. “Let’s go.”

I turn to Jennifer, embarrassed. “Sorry. Something has come up.”

With one last death stare to my friends, Enrico dips his head. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” I force a smile.

Enrico leads me out of the restaurant, and I have to practically run to keep up with him.

“Why are you being so damn rude?” I whisper.

“They’re up to something.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“Mark my words, I’ll call it in tomorrow.” He looks back up the street toward the restaurant. “Something is off with those two. I can sense it.”

I roll my eyes as we arrive at the car. “I am allowed to have friends.”

“Get in the car.”

I get into the car and slam the door. Damn control freak.

* * *

It turns out that finding an engagement party dress isn’t all that easy.

We’ve been at this for hours.

“Okay,” Giorgio says. “Let me see.”

I peek my head out through the dressing room curtain. “Is anyone around?”

“Just me. Get out here.”

I walk out and smirk as I put my hands on my hips. “This dress is ridiculous. I look like a stripper.”

Giorgio’s eyes drop down my body, and he frowns and holds his chin. “Well, that’s not going to work.” He begins to try and tuck my boobs back in as he wrestles with the fabric.

“You think?” I giggle as he tries to stretch the fabric over my exposed breasts. “It was definitely designed for a more petite woman.”

“One without boobs.” He looks me up and down. “Next one.”

I go back into the changing room to try on my tenth dress.