Page 49 of The Pairing

I raise my glass, cross myself, and call out, “Here’s to swimmin’ with bowlegged women!”

Fabrizio smiles bemusedly while Kit and I chug our ciders.

“American toasts, very strange.”

“It’s fromJaws,” Kit says as he sets his empty glass down. Affronted bubbles stream into my cider—I have never understood how an elf prince like Kit can drink me under the table. “Theo’s favorite movie.”

“Ah! One of my favorite American movies too!” Fabrizio says. “Have you seen the Italian one?”

I drop my own glass and swallow a burp. “L’Ultimo Squalo,1981. Fucking classic.”

We detour into an impassioned review of the movie’s greatest moments, from all the extended windsurfing sequences to the scene where the mayor tries to catch the shark by dangling a steak out of a helicopter. Kit is laughing so hard he’s nearly weeping.

We’re at a disco so close to the beach that I can almost hear the surf over the pounding bass, crowded around one of the tiny tables fringing the dance floor. Fabrizio brought us here to dance, but instead we’re sitting under the flashing lights, learning how he picked up English while studying Italian history in Rome.

“I am nineteen years old then, staying with my zio Giorgio, yes?” he says. “And it is winter, and I get—what is it called—when clouds make me sad?”

“Seasonal depression,” Kit prompts.

“Seasonal depression! So I am inside all the time, and the only thing Zio Giorgio has to watch is videotapes of an old American show.Hawaii Five-O.So, this is how I learn English, from Detective McGarrett. ‘Book ’em!’”

He procures another round of cloudy Basque apple cider and tells us about his pursuit of eternal summer, how he learned Portuguese and some Maori so he can lead tours in Brazil and New Zealand while it’s winter in the northern hemisphere. He tells us how he was almost a professional footballer but was too bored by the training schedule, how he always dreamt of traveling for a living even while his brothers worked in the family restaurant.

“I can relate to that part,” I tell him. “My family sort of has abusiness too, but I never wanted to be in it.”

“Yes, I know,” Fabrizio says.

“You know?”

“Your father is the director, no?” Fabrizio says. “I have seen many of his movies. He is very good.”

“You’ve known this whole time?”

“Of course,” Fabrizio says, one of his always-moving hands flapping dismissively. “It is not a common name, Flowerday.”

An incredulous laugh slips out of me, and Kit smiles, teeth gleaming.

“But I must ask you,” Fabrizio says, leaning in so he doesn’t have to shout, cheekbones flashing. God, he is irresponsibly hot. “You two know each other, but you do not arrive together in London. Why is this?”

My drinks are catching up to me. Kit looks at me, and I say the first thing that floats to the surface.

“We used to date.” It feels comically, unforgivably small to call it that, but I’m at least two ciders beyond a better explanation. I’m still looking at Kit, not Fabrizio. His gaze is fuzzed out around the edges. Maybe the drinks are getting to him too. “We actually haven’t seen each other in years.”

“And you did not plan this?”

Kit says, “Complete surprise.”

“Che bello!” Fabrizio sings, relaxing back onto his barstool. “My tour has brought you back together! How is this for you? How do you feel?”

“It’s had its ups and downs,” I say, “but it’s been nice to have my friend back.”

Kit presses a knuckle to his lips and says nothing.

“In all my years of this tour,” Fabrizio says, hand over heart, “I have seen many kinds of love. Family, friends, just married. New love, much too soon for so many days together—these hearts are always broken before Toscana. Couples together for fifty years. Even some who find the love of their life on my tour.But I have never seen two people who once were in love, making peace. It is a marvelous thing. I am so happy you are here.”

I look at Kit, whose expression is still too complicated to read.

“I think we’re happy to be here too.”

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