Page 24 of Promise Maker

She beams in return. “Prego. You are welcome.”

Before drinking, I add sugar and cream to thesteaming liquid.

“Nico says you enjoy taking pictures,” Mrs.Martelli surprises me. I almost spill my coffee. “He says you’re great.”

“How does—never mind.”

“He stalks your page,” Francesca confirms it.“He’s been doing that for years, keeping up with you. It’s an obsession.”

Mrs. Martelli hisses at her daughter and pokes herin the side. “Shh.”

“Well, it’s the truth.” She smirks.

I feel a tingle in my stomach.

Francesca saidyears.

“Why didn’t he message or call me then?”

Both look at each other, turning serious.

“You have to ask Nico,” Mrs. Martelli says. “It isnot our place.”

“I will,” I decide, spreading jam on a slice ofbread. “Where’s Domenico clearing his head?”

“Who knows,” Francesca mumbles. She pushes up fromthe chair, bringing her plate and mug to the sink.

Mrs. Martelli pats my hand on the table and offersa kind smile when I look at her. “Your heart hurts, hm. I know how it feels.There are trees in the back. Whenever you need quiet, go there.”

“Thank you,” I reply in a close whisper.

She leaves me to finish my breakfast.

Then I wander around the premises, coming onto themassive piazza with a rectangular pool, flower garden, and an enchanting bronzefountain of a water maiden. The serene sculpture gives me a dramatic pause,compelling me to observe it for a while before moving on.

I locate the back patio and massive yard withorange and lemon trees.

Strolling down the grassy path, I stop at one ofthe orange trees, sitting underneath it to shield from the sun. I close my eyesand catch my breath.

“I don’t know if I’ll survive without you, Dad,” Iwhisper to myself.

A strong presence looms over me suddenly, causingme to pry my lids open.

Domenico stares down with his head at an angle.

My heart leaps, and my skin heats up.

To be fair, the day is hot.

But my god, so is he.

I allow myself to take in his casual appearance—t-shirtand jeans, hair disheveled.

A thought occurs. “Is this where you come to clearyour head?”

That results in a scowl. “Yes. How did you know?”

“I didn’t. Mrs. Martelli said—” I stop abruptly,understanding. “That’s why she told me about it.”

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