Working for Francesco Pazzi was the last place she expected to find herself. She expected even less to grow to like the job. Falling for him was the biggest surprise of all.
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Word Count: 1340
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In the days to come, I was happier than I ever had been before. Despite everything terrible that had happened and all the unknowns ahead of us, I was just happy there even was an us. Francesco was alive and with me every step of the way on our journey to Rome. He held my hand as often as possible while we walked, and late nights by the fire often digressed from conversation to kissing, but I enjoyed both.
He still carried so many burdens and regrets, but he no longer carried them alone. Not to mention, I was an excellent distraction.
We arrived in Rome at the beginning of June. I had never been before, but the tour would have to come later.
Francesco took us first to a friend he thought might take us in. Unfortunately, the friend no longer lived there. We tried another acquaintance's home, but hearing that the visitor was Francesco, the friend refused to come downstairs and greet him.
The day wore on. We were tired, hungry, and disheartened after coming so far, but I squeezed his hand and encouraged him to try one more.
On the far outskirts of the city, we knocked on the humble door of a man who bought, sold, and reared horses for jousts.
"How do you know this Messer Parisi?" I asked while waiting for someone to receive us.
"I learned to joust on my visits to Rome. Parisi was my teacher."
"Is that how you got so good?"
He grimaced. "I lost the only joust you ever witnessed."
"The crowd talked about how you won previous years, and from what I could see, you only lost because you gave up after your uncle cheated."
His eyes narrowed. "You caught that?"
"You still underestimate me?"
The door suddenly opened. I expected the old man with stains on his shirt to be a servant, but he turned out to be the Messer of the home. "Francesco," he breathed. "Why have you come to me?"
"Messer Parisi." Francesco dipped into a customary bow. I lowered my eyes as well. "I'm so sorry for this sudden visit. I wouldn't have come if I had anywhere else I could go—"
"Stop." He held up his hand. I was sure he would turn us away or send for the authorities even. But then the old man surprised us. He glanced to me, his eyes softening, then said, "I heard you were exiled. I heard everything."
Francesco stared at the ground. Grief flickered in his eyes.
