It lightens the mood somewhat, and I give him a grateful look.
“Shut it, Tyson,” Lainey says.
He holds up his hands, palms out, with a slight smirk on his face. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet.”
“Good,” Lainey says, rolling her eyes.
She then switches gears, announcing that she’s going to discuss dinner options with our concierge, Alessandro—a handsome man with whom she’s already been flirting.
She gets up, grabs her Aperol spritz from the table, and marches back inside.
I look at Tyson with a rueful expression.
“I warned you,” he says with a shrug.
“I know. You were right.”
“What are you and Olivia even texting about?” he asks.
“Lots of stuff,” I say. “I really like her. I feel like I’ve made a new friend.”
Tyson gives me a skeptical look. “Okay,” he says. “Just be careful. I’d really like to avoid another blowup on this trip.”
Chapter 15
Lainey
After the fiasco in Dallas, I seriously can’t believe Hannah would reach out to Olivia. Especially when I made it crystal clear how I felt. At the same time, I feel a little guilty for blowing up at her, especially at such a fragile point in her own life. I excuse myself, explaining that I’m going to go work on our dinner reservation with our concierge.
I find Alessandro at his desk.
“Good evening, Miss Lawson,” he says.
“Good evening, Alessandro,” I say, sitting in the chair across from him. “Please call me Lainey!”
“As you wish, Lainey,” he says, giving me a nod that reminds me of a royal bow. “How might I assist you this evening?”
“My friends and I were wondering if you could recommend a restaurant for dinner. Something casual—and nearby. We’re starving.”
“Of course.” Alessandro nods. “Capri is all rather casual and easy—”
“Yes, but this casual?” I say, gesturing down at my cropped white jeans, cotton top, and flip-flops.
“Yes. Sei bellisima,” he says, his brown eyes twinkling.
I can tell it’s a compliment, but I still say, “I’m sorry. I don’t know much Italian.”
“You look beautiful,” he says.
“Ohh. Grazie,” I say. “You’re bellisima, too.”
He laughs a deep, rich laugh. “La ringrazio.”
I smile back at him as he folds his hands across the leather blotter on his desk, then says, “So tell me. What sort of cuisine are you and your friends looking for this evening?”
“Hmm. I think we want to go out on a bit of a limb tonight and try…Italian.”
He laughs again and says, “Excellent choice. Just give me a moment and I’ll make some calls for you.”
“La ringrazio,” I say with a wink. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
I get up from the desk and head to the bar, grabbing one more drink. By the time I return to the lobby, Tyson and Hannah are waiting for me. Alessandro informs us that he has booked us a table at Da Giorgio, a nearby local favorite, then gives us easy walking directions.
I thank him, then ask what I should order.
“Everything is fabulous,” he says. “You can’t go wrong.”
“But I want to know your favorite,” I say.
“In that case,” he says, “I always get the spaghetti alle vongole.”
“Okay!” I say. “Well, then that’s what I’m having!”
As we exit the lobby, Tyson calls me shameless. “That’s what I’m having,” he mimics in a high, flirty voice. “Do you even know what vongoles are?”
“No,” I say. “But they sure sound good in that accent!”
“Pretty sure we’re the ones with the accent right now,” Tyson says.
“Yeah, but when he’s speaking English, he has an Italian accent,” I say.
“She’s got a point,” Hannah says.
I give Tyson a smug smile, then take Hannah’s hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. It’s my way of telling her that I’ve fully forgiven her, and she gives me a grateful smile.
“This feels so European, doesn’t it?” I ask, swinging our arms.
“What’s that?” she says.
“Holding hands with friends…It’s nice.”
“Europeans aren’t as homophobic as Americans,” Tyson says. “It’s not uncommon for straight men in Italy to kiss hello, hold hands, or even fix each other’s hair.”
“And order spritzes!” I say.
“Touché,” Tyson says.
—
