“So, you walked along the beach and saw some old crap,” Wyatt snickered, slipping into his natural New York accent, “while I busted my ass for toothless Joe.” Joe was a researcher who Wyatt often had to work with when I was off working elsewhere. He was something else, to say the least. “Who, by the way, spelled ‘party’ wrong. Party! Girl, my first language is English, and even I can spell party in Italian.”
“Don’t make me laugh.” I had to pull the phone away while I got myself under control. He always had a way of cracking me up, and I loved him for it. “I’ll mess up my eyeliner.”
“Whatever. You can’t screw that face up even if you tried.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes at his lame flirting.
“Well, what’s he like?”
“I don’t know.” I pushed the wand into the mascara tube. “He’s nice enough.”
“We had a deal, Sienna.”
“Ah, fine!” I checked myself in the mirror one last time and gave a silent nod of approval on my dress of choice. It was a white cotton sundress with a soft, brown jacket paired with brown ankle boots.
“You look good. Stop stalling.”
I flipped off the light and sat on the edge of the bed, knowing I had ten minutes to spare. “He’s nice, easy to talk to, works a lot, always glued to the phone. Oh, he did ditch me at one point and was gone for, like, twenty minutes.”
“Ditched you?”
“Yes, something about his business partner. It wasn’t a big deal, but it allowed me to do a little window shopping, and the time alone was nice. He has some strange ticks, though, like he has this cream-colored elastic, and every so often he’ll snap it.”
“Okay, okay.” He waited, and when I didn’t bite, he let out a frustrated sigh.
“Yes, he’s handsome,” I laughed, “but there’s something about him I just can’t figure out.”
“Bad or good?”
“Neither, really, it’s just something off. I guess how you feel sometimes with Rosa.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, understanding the feeling.
“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know, but,” I glanced at the time, “I really need to go.”
“All right, no goodbye.”
“Just a later.” I smiled as I hung up. I threaded my clutch strap over my wrist, took one last glance in the full-length mirror by the door, and left.
The lobby was empty as my eyes searched around, wondering where Mariano might be. I checked my watch and knew I was on time. I stood on the side of the entrance for over fifteen minutes, feeling conspicuous waiting for a man I barely knew.
“Sienna.” He came around the corner with his phone held up. He was probably answering another email. “Are you ready to go?”
“I have been,” I whispered at his lack of apology for keeping me waiting. He pushed open the door and crawled into the town car that had been waiting for us. I followed him as he slid over and patted the seat beside him, his eyes once again on his ever-present phone.
The restaurant was dark, with low ceilings, and the smell of steak hung thick in the air. I pulled out a tissue and dabbed at my eyes. It took me a moment to get my lungs under control.
“You’ll get used to it,” he assured me as he prattled off our order to the waiter. After he ordered for the both of us without my input, he seemed to settle.
“All right, Sienna, I’ll give you one question that I will answer without hesitation. Use it wisely.”
I nodded and thought about where I wanted to start, but instead of diving right in, I thought I would change directions. “Are you close with your parents?”
His studied me as he absorbed the question. “You could have asked me anything in the world, and you choose that.”
“True.” I leaned back as the waiter refilled my wine glass and ourTagliatelle funghi e tartufowas served.
“Why?”