Lessons Learned, Healing Hearts

So It Begins (Chapter 3)

Forced to sit in the far back row with Gianluca, Piero found it challenging to hear the conversation two rows ahead. He picked up a word here and there, but nothing substantial. With Ignazio and Gianluca wrapped up in their chatter, he turned to Barbara for clarification. Annoyed by his persistent interruptions, she shushed him. Receiving side glances from Ignazio and Gianluca, Piero slumped back in his seat, defeated. He had only caught a glimpse of her in the hotel lobby, but now, leaning slightly past Barbara's shoulder, he finally got a better look.

Expressive in every gesture, a simple raised eyebrow or fleeting smile transformed her face. Her voice, light and musical, drifted through the car. Then came an unexpected giggle, and he chuckled along before realizing his mistake. Heat rushed to his face when Barbara, Ignazio, and Gianluca turned toward him, their expressions questioning. There was no reason to laugh, other than that she delighted him. Clearing his throat, he pretended to scroll through his music.

"You'll be back at four?" Michele asked as Marlow pulled up to the Blue Light Recording Studio.

"I will." She handed him a contact card and added, "If you need me sooner, just text or call."

Barbara held out a hand. "Do you have an extra card?"

"I do."

"We'll take one too," Piero said quickly, snatching Barbara's from her.

Ignazio and Gianluca exchanged knowing glances and nudged each other, but Piero ignored them.

As the others hurried inside, Piero lingered, glancing over his shoulder. Watching him walk away, he smiled and waved goodbye. When she returned the wave, something shifted inside him, and he happily joined the others.

***

With time to spare before class, Marlow stopped at the food court for her usual triple-berry smoothie and chocolate chip muffin. Settling at an empty table, she took a long sip and pulled out her phone. Forty-five minutes to finish some reading or to do more research on Il Volo's members. Her racing heart decided for her.

Clicking a link labelled Il Volo bio, she scrolled past the group photo to individual pictures. Her breath caught. There he was—the one who had caught her attention.

A sudden thump jolted her, and she accidentally spilled some of her drink.

"Hey, how's it going?" Harper asked, plopping down across from her. "Ooh, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

Marlow wiped the table with a napkin. "It's going good."

Harper was a person who thrived on attention. A gifted makeup artist, she could channel 1940s glamour one day: the next, a goth princess complete with a sparkly tiara.

"You still coming to MU's Open Mic Night this Saturday?" she asked, stealing a

bite of Marlow's muffin.

"Umm, I'm not sure anymore." Marlow barely looked up from her phone.

Curious, Harper snatched it away. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing!"

Harper's eyes widened. "Who are they?" Said loud enough, a few people turned to look at them.

Marlow hissed, "Shhh! Will you please keep it down! They are who I'm driving around for the next 12 days."

"Wow. There is no way I could concentrate on driving with those three in the car. Who are they?"

"They're called Il Volo. They're from Italy and sing operatic pop."

Harper's brows lifted. "Popera... I've heard of that. My choir director had us listen to another Italian singer, Andrea Bocelli. He did a cover of 'Perfect' with Ed Sheeran. It was beautiful. Have you heard it?"