Lessons Learned, Healing Hearts

Fashion, Fashion, and more Fashion (Chapter 26)

Marlow woke and blinked against the soft light slipping through the hotel curtains, her mind swimming somewhere between sleep and memory. Disoriented, she glanced around the room. Taking in the old-world moulding, the crisp white linens tangled around her legs, it only took a moment before she finally remembered where she was.

Italy. She had made it to Italy.

Rubbing her face in her hands, she glanced at the clock beside the bed; 6:42. This time yesterday, she was somewhere over the Atlantic, imagining what it would be like to hold Piero again. Slipping a hotel housecoat on, she opened the doors to the terrace and stepped outside. Closing her eyes and raising her face to the warming sun, her ears took in the unfamiliar hum of Milan—a blend of distant scooters, chiming bells, and birds singing welcome to a new morning.

Stepping further out onto the terrace, her jaw dropped. Looming high above the building to the right, several spires reached up to the heavens. Certain that they belonged to the cathedral she had seen briefly the day before, Marlow returned inside. Zoe, Harper, and Sawyer had to see this view.

Searching for her phone and not seeing it on the nightstand, she opened her purse and felt around the pockets for the familiar shape. Not finding it, she dumped the contents onto the bed. Still no phone. Using the room phone, she called her cell. Keenly listening, each successive ring refused to echo back, and dread filled her being. She knew for certain she hadn't left it on the plane, but did she leave it by accident in the airport washroom? No. She and Piero had taken a selfie together.... Where was it?

Though she was here with Piero, it would not be a good thing to be without easy contact with people she knew. Tired and not paying attention when they checked in, she could only assume he was on the same floor, but she had no idea where? Calling down to the front desk, Marlow prayed for help.

"Buongiorno, Park Hyatt Milano, parla Lisara. Come posso aiutarti?" the front desk clerk warmly greeted.

"Buongiorno, parli inglese?" Marlow asked.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

Blurting out everything that had happened since her arrival, Marlow begged for help.

Left to listen to some unfamiliar music as Lisara checked in the back office, Marlow chewed on her thumbnail. Please be there. Please be there.

"I'm sorry. Nothing has been turned in."

Marlow's heart dropped, and she struggled to keep it together.

"Can you put me in touch with my friend? I need to speak to him."

"Let me see whose name your suite is registered under," Lisara said, trying to help in whatever way she could.

This time, Marlow could hear through the earpiece the tapping of fingers on a keyboard.

"I have it. Your friend registered your room under his name. Would you like me to put you through?"

Marlow gave an audible sigh, her voice shaky as she spoke. "Yes, please! Thank you so much."

"You're welcome."

Staying on the line, Marlow waited for Piero to answer.

"Come on, Piero. Please pick up!"

There was no answer. Leaving him a message, she hung up the phone and threw herself back onto the bed. First, her luggage, now her phone—was fate already pulling things apart? Orchestrating another disastrous relationship dressed up as an adventure. She pressed her arm over her eyes as a tear slid into her hairline. "No," she said, willing herself not to spiral. Piero was not like the others.