Page 67 of The Penalty

I laughed, bumping my shoulder against his arm when I walked away. We’d been roaming around one of the nearby towns all afternoon. Since it was peak tourist season, the small streets and shops were overflowing with visitors. Not a single one of them seemed to know or care who Xavier was. Although he did turn quite a few heads.

We stopped to have an early dinner at a small, family-owned Italian restaurant. The owner, a boisterous, round-faced older gentleman named Niccolò, greeted every guest when they walked in and treated us all like family.

“Focaccia drizzled with olive oil for the lovely couple.” He placed the bread in front of us and turned to Xavier. “La tua ragazza è bellissima. Sposala adesso.”

I blamed my blush on being outside all day in the July heat.

Xavier’s baffled expression deepened when he looked from me to the restaurant owner. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

“A charming Englishman,” Niccolò said. “You are fortunate to have this woman by your side. She knows what I said.” He winked at me. “May you be blessed with many children.”

For his part, Xavier appeared unbothered. I whipped the menu up to hide my face.

“No menus.” Niccolò took it away. “I will bring out a selection of our best dishes.”

I only meant to take a sip of the water but downed all of it. This wasn’t the first time someone threw out the word marriage in front of us. Cade made an off-the-cuff remark when we were all out to dinner in London. But he wasn’t serious and at the time, Xavier was just a casual fling. Or so I’d thought. And then Killian couldn’t stop saying it at the soccer game in April.

I smoothed down my sundress and placed the cloth napkin on my lap.

“Why do I get the feeling we have to send him Christmas cards for the rest of our lives?”

Xavier’s flippant remark dissolved some of the awkward tension. I glanced over at him and failed to hold back my laughter. A wide smile split his handsome face. Spending uninterrupted time with him this weekend has been extraordinary.

Twenty minutes later, an army of servers arrived with several dishes for us to share. I learned all the food here was inspired by Niccolò’s family in Tuscany. Panzanella salad, tortelli di papate, pappardelle al cinghiale. Each bite was more divine than the last.

“I’ll be in a food coma for the next three days,” I quipped after swallowing a mouthful of pasta. “You might have to carry me out of here.”

“Have you ever been to Italy?”

“A few times. You?”

“More than a few times for football.” He took a bite of tortelli. “We should go there on holiday together.”

“Maybe,” I winked.

Oh shit. Oh SHIT.

Xavier looked like he’d been whacked across the face with a brick.

“Hey.” I reached across the table and held his hand. “I would love to go to Italy with you. You know I’m only teasing when I say maybe.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled slow, not looking up from his plate. “Wasn’t really expecting to hear it.”

The pasta that had been so delicious a minute ago turned to sludge in my stomach. Clearly I still have more twists and turns to navigate when it comes to learning what makes him tick.

“When we do go,” I said as brightly as I could, “promise you won’t let me gorge myself on too much food. I’m sure the last thing you want is a sluggish American to drag around.”

“I’ll get some good practice dragging you around here.” His dimple appeared. “We still have dessert to get through.”

Xavier was right. No sooner did we finish the main dishes, the servers returned with dessert. Biscotti, small cakes, and gelato. I won’t eat again for a week.

After we finished, Xavier and I strolled through the town. We bypassed the chocolatier and opted to browse the small shops. I bought a few souvenirs for Killian and Max. Several fliers posted outside the store mentioned fireworks over the lake this evening. We’d be able to see them from our rental and decided to take advantage of it.

A group of teenage boys pointed at Xavier and whispered amongst themselves.

“I think you’ve been recognized,” I said, nudging him with my elbow.

Xavier glanced at the boys. One of them held up their phone and took a picture. “You would be correct,” he grinned.

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