Page 20 of Marry Me in Rome

“You know, where the main character throws it into the air and it gets stuck on the ceiling or breaks a window or something.”

She leveled a stern gaze on me. “You will try.”

Right. You didn’t tell Nonni no. “I’ll try,” I reluctantly agreed, then tried to remember where my fingers were supposed to go as I took the dough from her. A gentle grip in the middle and a tiny pinch on the edge, a gentle motion with my hand, and . . .

Please don’t embarrass me. Please go where you’re supposed to go. Please?—

I tossed the dough into the air.

I held my breath.

The dough flew high across the island, gaining altitude and distance like a shot put?—

And landed flat on Matteo’s face.

He stood there, his head completely covered in floury dough. Then slowly, deliberately, his fingers rose to peel it off and reveal a stony expression.

“Sorry,” I said, my face flaming. How long had he been standing there, watching?

“That apology I’ll accept.” He set the dough on the marble countertop, retrieved a dishtowel, and started scrubbing at his face.

“There you are,” his grandmother said. “So rude, to leave your guest.”

“I had a quick errand. I didn’t know I’d be assaulted when I returned.” I detected a grin in his voice. He finished with the towel, turned, and scooped up the crust again. He handled it in his fingers, weighing it, then tossed it into the air. The dough spun perfectly upon his command. He caught it but immediately launched it again, this time toward Nonni. She intercepted it with three fingers of a single hand.

“Bravo.” I clapped and then coughed at the sudden puff of flour in the air.

Matteo walked around the island, retrieved a gift bag with a black bow that I hadn’t noticed before, and slid it across the countertop. “For you.”

Aww. “You don’t have to do this. It’s okay.I’mokay.” If anything, I should be buying him an apology gift. “Sorry for making you jump in after me.”

“You’re doing it again.” He stood there, waiting, refusing to take no for an answer.

I wiped my hands clean on a towel and slid the bow open. With a soft gasp, I pulled out the contents. “My camera?”

But it wasn’t mine. This one didn’t have the characteristic scratch on the screen, nor the wear marks on the corners. A brand new version.

Matteo was a walking contradiction—one second disapproving of my camera, and then replacing it. Considering mine cost almost three grand, that was no meager sacrifice. Surely he could afford it after looking at this place, but still.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

“I know it won’t replace what you lost, but at least you can remember some of Rome.”

“Very kind of you.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. The countertop separated us, but I fought the urge to skirt around it and throw my arms around him. Not just because he was hot, but because he was a decent guy who tried to make things right. Not with a verbal apology, exactly, but an apology nonetheless.

Nonni headed for the door. “Matteo, I have a phone call to make. You will help her finish the pizza. Save me a slice.” She disappeared down the hall.

“Yes, Nonni,” Matteo said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“There’s no arguing with that woman, is there?” I asked with a chuckle, turning back to my new camera. It could never replace the one Mom gave me, but receiving it as a gift from someone who seemed to care helped soften the blow.

“I learned very quickly not to try.” He cocked his head. “Is this the right one?”

“It’s perfect.” I pushed the button and powered it up. He’d even installed the battery. At the bottom of the bag sat a pair of lens filters, a set of extension tubes, and macro couplers.

Either he’d asked the salesperson at the shop, or he knew exactly what a photographer would need. Interesting.

My stomach chose that moment to emit a loud growl. I groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t hear that.”

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