Lessons Learned, Healing Hearts

Sustaining the Soul (Chapter 27)

"Did you have any luck?" Piero asked, pulling out Marlow's chair.

Marlow dropped into the seat with a self-satisfied smile, securing her purse beneath the table.

"I did."

Piero's brows shot up. "You did? Seriously?"

"I know. I shocked even myself."

"I hope you didn't pay a lot for it," he added, leaning forward, concerned that she may have overspent her holiday money.

"No, I only brought you a pair of socks," she lied, smoothing her napkin onto her lap.

"Socks?" he repeated, clearly unconvinced. "Can I see them?"

"Later. Let's order lunch. I'm starved."

With a low chuckle, he sank into the seat across from her. "You know, you're not nearly as sneaky as you think."

"I disagree. I'm dangerously deceptive."

"Mmm, no—more like adorably transparent."

Marlow shot him a look, her amusement barely concealed.

***

"Would you like to try some of this?" Piero asked, sliding his plate of seafood and pasta closer to her.

At the sight of linguini glistening with olive oil and dotted with opened clams and mussels, Marlow's stomach reacted—but not for the right reason.

"No, thank you. I'm not big into shellfish."

Piero tilted his head, scandalized. "You live near an ocean, and you don't like shellfish?"

"I don't."

"Are you allergic?"

"Nope. I just don't like it. When I was like maybe three or four, my mom and I were walking along the beach when we stopped to talk to a man digging for oysters. He pried one open with a knife and swallowed it whole." Marlow shivered. "Just thinking about it now makes me feel ill."

Twirling his fork, Piero leaned over his plate. Savouring the flavours of shrimp, mussels, and clams, he closed his eyes and let out a low, "Mmm, magnifico." Reassuring her that there was nothing slimy or overpowering about mussels or clams, he pulled up more linguini than seafood and offered it to her.

"Trust me. You will like this."

Marlow eyed him with a mix of suspicion and intrigue.

Swallowing the saliva pooling in her mouth, she closed her eyes and leaned in hesitantly. For a minute, she only held the bite in her mouth, uncertain if it would even go down. Then chewing slowly, her expression unreadable, she swallowed what was in her mouth. Grabbing her water, she chugged it.

Piero waited, chin resting on his hand, openly amused.

Marlow wrinkled her nose. "Okay...it wasn't awful. But the texture? Not my thing."

"You sure you don't want more?" he asked, grinning widely.

"No, thank you," she answered a tad too quickly.

Digging into her own pasta dish with far more enthusiasm, her farfalle pasta was smothered in a garlic and basil cream sauce, loaded with spinach, mushrooms, and sun-dried tomatoes, it satisfied her love of both carbs and veggies. Devouring it, she didn't bother offering Piero any, and he didn't bother to ask. Maybe he remembered her saying to never come between her carbs and her, or perhaps he was just enjoying his own lunch more.

***

Unlike Vancouver, where most tourist sites demanded a car, a bus, or at least a determined walk, Milan felt the opposite. Everything was just a few charming cobblestone turns away. Listening intently as Piero spoke, she soaked in every detail of her private tour.