Page 191 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8
‘No,’ Dante said. ‘Now, I should shower and get ready, or Gio will be waiting for me in his hat and coat.’
Dante was lying. The truth was he didn’t get involved, and always left at the first sign... And if he said that to Susie... Well, it would mean he’d been the same with her as with others.
Never.
This weekend had been a complete exception and he knew he should end things.
What the hell was he doing, suggesting another night?
Yet, he wanted another night.
He came out of the shower and Susie was lying there, gazing at the ceiling. And then she looked over to him.
‘Can I ask something?’
‘You can.’
‘When you end things...’
‘It’s not just me that ends things. I always make it clear that I don’t want to get too close, and...’ He paused, took a shirt from the wardrobe, and then answered the question. ‘If itisme ending things, I just say it’s over.’
‘And?’
‘My assistant sends flowers...a gift.’
‘A little bauble?’
‘I don’t gift jewellery,’ Dante said. ‘Antonia generally chooses.’ He buttoned up his shirt.
‘Does Antonia write the card?’
‘I think the florist does,’ he responded. ‘I’ll make coffee.’
‘I like milk,’ Susie said. ‘I’ll get my own coffee on the way.’
She didn’t want a card from his assistant, or flowers, or a gift.
As she showered and dressed she tried to pull herself out of a slight panic. She was torn between wanting another night and the farewell that was surely to come.
They left together, but as Dante walked down the steps Susie stopped, in the middle of wrapping her scarf, and saw all she’d missed last night.
‘Oh!’ She was taken aback by the view...the sheer beauty of where they were. Behind the elegant houses she could see the Tuscan hills. ‘You can see the hills!’ She spun around, and whichever way she looked the views were to die for. ‘And the walls.’ Everywhere she looked it was like a postcard. ‘It’s so gorgeous... How did I miss this?’
‘We were a bit distracted.’
‘True.’ Susie laughed and, refusing to be rushed, stood and gazed down the almost deserted avenue.
Dante, who’d seemed impatient to get on, followed her gaze. ‘It is stunning,’ he agreed. ‘In spring, the magnolia trees flower.’
‘They’re all magnolia trees?’ She stood, trying to picture it in bloom. ‘They’re my favourite flowers.’
‘Come the spring, you’re in for a treat.’
‘No...’ She shook her head, hit by a sudden wave of pensiveness. It was possibly not fitting, over flowers she would never see, yet it briefly knocked her off kilter, and she could feel her smile slipping away, her shoulders drooping. ‘I’ll be in Florence by then,’ she said.
Her voice sounded hollow, when usually she spoke of Florence with excitement, but it dawned on her that possibly it wouldn’t be a floral display she’d be pining for.
Oh, God!