Page 102 of Operation Sunshine
Ben agreed. Franco needed to focus.
“Go to Florence, Ben.” Raj’s voice was firm. “For both your sakes.”
His chest ached. He looked down at his desk, trying to steady the mess of hope and fear knotting inside him.
Raj’s tone softened. “It’s your decision. But if you want to go… I’ve got the restaurant covered. I did it before, remember? Nobody burned the place down.” A rare smile tugged at his lips.
Before Ben could respond, there was a knock at the door. Ollie poked his head in, then slipped inside without waiting for permission.
“I’ll keep it quick,” Ollie said, glancing between them.
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Raj was through the door in a heartbeat.
Ollie shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you remember what I told you a while back? When we talked about my drinking?”
Ben frowned. “You said a lot of things that night.”
“I said I drink to stop thinking about what I could’ve done differently. About what I’ll never be able to fix.” Ollie speared him with an intense gaze. “Right. Well,you’vegot the chance to fix things. Whatever’s eating you up? You don’t have to sit here and wonder. Because there’s a man in Florence who loves you. And if you don’t at least try, you’ll regret it.”
The words hit Ben like a blow and a balm all at once. He opened his mouth, but Ollie was already halfway out the door. Ben got up to follow him, his head in a spin, but when he opened the door, hecollided with Willow.
Ben groaned, throwing his hands up. “If you’re here to tell me to get my arse to Florence, don’t bother. I’ve already had the memo. Twice. They beat you to it.” He returned to his desk, then snapped his laptop open, his fingers already flying over the keys.
Willow blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Looking up flights,” Ben muttered. “Adelaide to Florence.”
Her face lit up like Christmas morning. “There’s one at 9:40 p.m. Thursday. Four-hour layover in Doha. Then Heathrow Friday morning, another four-hour layover. You’ll land in Florence at 10:15 p.m.” Ben gaped at her, and she gave him a sheepish grin. “I did a little research. Just in case. And can I remind you Franco doesn’t cook on the weekends?”
Then she was gone.
Ben’s throat tightened. For a moment, he could almost see it: stepping off the plane, walking through the streets of Florence, finding Franco’s apartment… The risk was terrifying, but the idea of not trying, of doingnothing, was worse.
He spent ten minutes searching travel options, only to realise Willow had found him the perfect flight. He stared at the details glowing on his laptop screen. Thursday, 9:40 p.m. Doha. London. Florence. The cursor blinked on the “Confirm Purchase” button, mocking him with its simplicity.
It should have been easy. A click. A transaction. A string of numbers on his credit card bill. But his hand hovered over the pad, frozen.
What if Franco doesn’t want me there? What if I show up, my heart in my hands, only to be turned away? What if I ruin everything? What if—
He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing air into his lungs. Thewhat-ifshad ruled his life for too long. He’d run from them, buried himself in this restaurant, and built walls so high evenhecouldn’t see over them. And still, Franco had slipped past them, disarmed him…
Loved him.
Ben’s hand trembled as he clicked. The screen flickered. A confirmation number appeared.
Flight booked.
He sat back hard in his chair, his heart pounding. Relief, terror, excitement, dread—all of it surged at once, leaving him dizzy. He ran a hand down his face, then let out a laugh that was closer to a sob. “Bloody hell,” he muttered to the empty office. “I’m actually doing this.”
When he finally emerged into the restaurant, he glanced into theroom. Only two of the tables were still occupied, the lunchtime rush all but over.
The staff were gathered near the pass, their voices dropping the moment they saw him.
Ben cleared his throat. “I’ve got something to tell you.”
Ollie leaned forward as if this was the moment he’d been waiting for all day. Lexie crossed her arms, her eyes sharp but hopeful. Willow bounced on her heels, barely containing her grin. Mina and Raj stood side by side, quiet but intent.
“I booked a flight,” Ben said, the words falling heavy into the silence. “I’m going to Florence in forty-eight hours.”
