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“Do you know anyone else in Rome?” Ryan asked.
Diana shook her head. “I work too much.”
“Same.” Ryan shifted his weight. “Would you like to hang out, maybe? After work?” He swallowed. “Maybe tonight around ten or eleven? We could meet right here.”
Diana’s ears rang. Was Ryan March asking her out?
No. He was just lonely. He wanted to speak English with someone.
But wasn’t she lonely, too? And didn’t she want some kind of “life experience” in Rome before the summer was through? She was still young. Just twenty-three.
“Um. Okay,” Diana said. “I can’t stay out late, though. Arturo wants me in the kitchen at six o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Sergio wants that for me, too,” Ryan said, drawing his fingers through his lush hair. “Do you ever think we made a mistake with this career?”
Diana laughed with surprise. “No,” she said after a pause. “This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do.”
Ryan set his jaw. “Me, too. I just can’t help but think I’m insane for it.”
“Insanity is important in this industry,” Diana said. “I wouldn’t want to be sane.”
That night, Diana hurried out of Arturo’s kitchen at thirty after ten, changed into a little black dress at home, brushed out her long hair, put on bright red lipstick, and stepped into the balmy night. Rome was alive around her, a buzzing ecosystem of beautiful women, romantic men, dance halls, late-night ice cream parlors, and people walking the streets, hungry for whatever experience they fell into next.
Diana reached the piazza a few minutes before eleven. A bar-café had set up tables that weren’t there during the early-morning food market, where beautiful people drank beer and wine and snacked on crackers and peanuts. Despite the late hour, many children were out and about, keeping up with their parents. This never would have happened in America.
Diana grabbed a table at the café and ordered herself a red wine. It had been ages since she’d drank any alcohol, but it was delectable, tasting of dark berries and oak. Out of nerves, she drank too quickly, scanning through the crowd, looking for him. He didn’t look like the Italian men who strutted through the crowd, some of whom locked eyes with her, sizing her up. She always looked away.
After ten minutes, she gave up on him and removed an Italian book from her bag. She could enjoy the night alone.
And she should have known better than to trust Ryan March.
“Hey.” A voice came from above her. A shiver ran down her spine.
Diana looked up slowly to find Ryan hovering over her table. He smiled, his face haggard from a day in the kitchen, then gestured for the server to bring him a beer. A second later, the server arrived and placed the sweating glass in front of him.
“I need this,” Ryan said, collapsing beside Diana. The chairs faced the inner square, meaning their bodies were just a few inches apart. Diana’s heart did a backflip. “Cheers.”
Diana raised her glass and clinked it with his. “Hard day?”
Ryan drank one-half of his glass of beer and gasped with pleasure. “That is the most delicious beer I’ve ever had. I should order another one right away.”
Diana chuckled. “I’ve hardly drank since I got here.”
Truthfully, she hardly drank, period. Her goals had a firm grip on her, demanding she wake up early and go to bed late, filling the hours between with hard work and study.
“How is Arturo treating you?” Ryan asked.
“He’s tough, but I’ve learned a lot,” Diana said. “How’s Sergio?”
Ryan laughed. “How did you know I’m working for Sergio?”
Diana stuttered. “How did you know I’m working for Arturo?”
“I asked Sergio about you today,” Ryan said. “He knows all about you. Every year, he and Arturo talk about the new graduates from our culinary school and fight over who to hire.”
“That was my guess, actually.”
“Sergio teased me about it all day,” Ryan disclosed. “He kept saying, ‘Diana wouldn’t have made that mistake, Ryan.’ And somehow, he knows that you speak Italian already. He’s super impressed and jealous of Arturo.” He took another sip of beer and smiled. “But we generally get along. He’s taught me a lot, too.”
