“Are you ready!?” Vanni yells from outside my bedroom door, immediately pounding his fists on it.
I laugh to myself and head over to the door, opening it.
He’s on the other side, wearing an INXS shirt that hangs to his knees that I assume his dad got him, and he’s so freaking adorable.
“I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes,” I tell him. I just have to do something with my hair. Otherwise I’m ready to go in my jean shorts and black tank top. No concert shirts for me. “You know, you’re not supposed to wear the band’s shirt to the concert.”
Vanni’s nose wrinkles. “Why not?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s an unwritten rule.”
“Well that’s stupid,” he says, pulling at his shirt and staring at it. “Are we supposed to pretend that we’re not there to see the band?”
I laugh. “Good point.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t think that’s a rule. I think you’re just jealous that my father gave me this shirt and you didn’t get one.”
Again, I’m grinning. “Okay, Vanni. That’s it. You got me. I’m jealous.”
He shrugs, raising his chin haughtily. “It’s natural,” he says with a flourish of his hands.
Then he turns and runs down the stairs.
I roll my eyes and head back into my room, deciding to pull my hair back into a high ponytail, my minor contribution to the eighties. I grab my crossbody purse and head down to the living room.
Claudio is sitting in the armchair, back to me, Vanni on the couch across from him.
“She’s finally ready,” Vanni exclaims dramatically, as if he wasn’t just at my door.
Claudio turns his head to look at me, his eyes coasting up and down my body, leaving a trail of heat where they’ve been.
He smiles.
And goddamn it.
He’s completely disarmed me with a simple look. He can’t even exist anymore without my heart tripping over itself, without my knees feeling weak. I can’t even be sure that my feet are holding me up.
You’re a hot mess, Grace.
“No dress?” he asks, getting to his feet, stopping a few feet away.
I lick my lips, my throat feeling dry. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me,” he says, voice dropping, eyes glinting with sincerity.
I swallow. I can’t stop staring into his eyes, lost in this look, this voice that I’ve been craving all week like a junkie. Seconds seem to span into eons.
“Can we go?” Vanni whines, breaking through the spell.
Claudio turns to him. “Yes, Vanni,” he says while my eyes flutter closed for a moment, giving myself space to breathe.
“Grace?” he asks.
I open my eyes to find both of them staring at me.
“Yes. Let’s go,” I manage to say.
Because there are three of us going to the concert, we can’t fit in the Ferrari. Instead we get inside the Range Rover parked outside.
“This isn’t as fun to drive,” Claudio says as I buckle up in the passenger side, Vanni in the back. “And it’s awful on fuel, and breaks down more than it should. But it is still sexy, no?”
I nod. I’ve always been a fan of these cars. “They’re very popular back home. Lots of people drive them, especially around the Highlands.”
“Ah,” Claudio says, taking the car out onto the road. I watch his tanned hands on the wheel. The way he holds it is the same way as when he’s making art. There’s something so distinctive about the way he uses his hands, so much grace and skill and strength in them.
He turns his head and eyes me. “Perhaps when this is all over, we will come up there and visit you.”
I manage a small smile, part of me thrilled that he would think of me when this is all over, the other part hating to be reminded that this is a short-term thing. I’ve got only two weeks left here in Tuscany. Two weeks to get most of my book finished. Two weeks to fall out of … well, whatever has been tied up in knots when it comes to Claudio.
“If we drive to Scotland, that means we’ll have to take the car train from France!” Vanni exclaims. “Then we can go to London, pick up Mamma, and then come see you, Grace.”
Yeah. That wasn’t what I had in mind, but because that’s what Vanni has in mind, it’s a wee slap in the face. Serves me right for feeling the way I do.
I eye him in the mirror. “That sounds great.”
It’s not long until we’re pulling into a parking lot outside the walls of Lucca. Already it’s crazy busy, the concert itself being held on the long green expanse of grass just below the walls. It takes time to finally find a free parking space and then walk through the throngs of people all heading over to the venue. The band doesn’t start for another two hours, but everyone had the same idea in getting here early.
It’s exciting though. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a concert, and it was the opposite of this. Robyn insisted I go with her to a BTS show, and though my knowledge of K-Pop is minimal, it was a lot of fun. And I was keenly aware of being some of the oldest people there.
Here, everyone seems older than me and there aren’t that many kids. There’s an infectious buzz in the air, people chatting happily, drinking alcohol from plastic cups, the air heavy with sweat, the sun slowly creeping down behind the hills to the west.
We cross the road and head into the gates of the concert, giving the tickets to the volunteers, then squeeze past the lines outside of the merch tents.
“Papà,” Vanni says, begrudgingly holding on to his father’s hand. “Look. You could buy Grace a shirt like mine.”
Claudio stops and glances at me inquisitively. “Would you like a shirt, Grace?”
“No, that’s okay,” I tell him quickly.
“She thinks it’s wrong to wear a shirt of the band when you go to see the band,” Vanni explains.
Claudio’s brow raises higher, a devious smirk on his lips. “Is that so?”
Uh oh. I don’t trust that look.
“Allora,” he muses, stroking his chin, “Grace thinks she’s too good for a t-shirt, is that right?”
“No,” I say carefully, but he’s reaching over and grabbing my hand, pulling me toward the closest merch tent.
I’m both dreading what he’s going to do and completely swooning at the feel of my hand in his. Giddy. That’s what this feeling is. I’m giddy.
Over hand holding.
What are you, twelve?
He brings me right to the tent, in a five-person deep line, and waves at the t-shirts. “You pick. I’m buying.”
“Really, it’s okay.”
“You don’t want to match with me, Grace?” Vanni asks. I glance down at him on the other side of Claudio, and shit, he’s looking up at me with big eyes. “It would mean so much.”
My eyes narrow. The kid doesn’t care. He’s trying to embarrass me.
“Yes, Grace,” Claudio says, dropping my hand to take out his wallet. “You want to disappoint my son like this?”
Oh lordy.
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll take that tank top over there.”
“Tank top?” Vanni says. “We have to match.”