Page 46 of Don’t Fall for your Best Friend's Brother

While I sweep the yard, he trims the hedges with an extremely loud hedge trimmer. It makes conversation impossible, but I don’t mind; I’m just happy to be in the same space as him.

Just after eleven, my phone rings. The screen tells me it’s my new boss.

“Ciao,” I say when I answer the call.

Finn, who is across the garden gathering the hedge trimmings, looks up when he hears me speak. He smiles as I continue to talk, and I remember him being completely blown away that I speak fluent Italian. Mrs. Bellagamba tells me that she would like me to call into the gallery to sign some paperwork and wants to know when would be convenient for me. The thing is, I have no idea. So, excusing myself, I put the phone on mute and call over to Finn.

“Are there buses that run from Sharon Springs to Albany?” I ask.

Finn frowns and starts to walk across the garden. “What do you need a bus for?”

“I need to go into the gallery and sign some paperwork for my new job.”

“I’ll take you,” he says without hesitation.

I give him a slightly perturbed look. I’ve already imposed on Finn far too much these past weeks. I don’t want to put him out any further.

“I’ll take you, Emma,” he presses again, seeing my hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t. When do you need to go?”

“She says whenever I can make it,” I reply.

“Then tell her you’ll be up there this afternoon. Say about three o’clock.”

“Are you sure?” I say.

“Emma!” Finn cries, waving at the phone.

Still looking at him, trying not to laugh because he is making a funny face and mocking me, I convey the information to Mrs. Bellagamba, who sounds delighted.

When I finally hang up, he shakes his head at me. “Such a stubborn woman.”

* * *

When we enter Albany, I quickly feel overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because I’ve been staying in such a tiny town, but the city looks huge. It’s probably no bigger than London, but then, I was hardly in England’s capital every day of my life, either.

“Oh, good Lord,” I sigh as Finn maneuvers his way off the freeway.

He’s got the gallery address logged into the satnav, but he hasn’t needed to use it yet.

“I thought you were a city girl,” Finn says, throwing a quick glance at me before looking back to the road.

“I am, but still. It’s not like I know London like the back of my hand. How on Earth am I supposed to find my way around here?”

“You’ll get used to it. Believe me,” he says in a reassuring tone.

“Yes. Maybe.” I look at the lanes of the freeway and suddenly decide I don’t want to drive anymore. Maybe I’ll just stick to a bus or a train.

Whether Finn is just adept at maneuvering in big cities or he knows Albany well, I can’t know, but he moves through the city like a hot knife through butter. As relaxed as he always is, the beeping and city traffic do not seem to faze him at all. Even when we get into the heart of the hustle and bustle, he just sits there, cool as a cucumber.

Eventually, he does refer to the satnav; after driving around the city streets, he pulls up at our destination. It’s a beautiful old brick building with huge silver letters that spell its name: Galleria di Belle Arti.

“I’m going to take a guess and conclude that says something about it being a fine arts gallery,” Finn says, smirking as he looks up at the sign.

“Well done.” I grin.

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