Elisabetta gave her husband an admiring glance.

Sergio’s words had made Keira think of the men on the ferry. They had been incredibly forward, making it very clear that they found her attractive. There had been no ambiguity in the interaction, and Cristiano had been very clear on that as well. Keira wondered if there really was something to all this.

“So the idea of the Latin lover is really true?” she asked them. “Italian men and women really are more open to love?”

“Yes, but there is such a thing as too open,” Elisabetta replied with a chuckle.

“How so?”

“There are people here who just love loving. Men, in particular.”

“It’s true,” Sergio agreed. “It takes a long time to learn the difference between attraction and something that could become deeper. It is not uncommon for Italians to have many powerful relationships, declaring their partner The One, only to soon realize that they were wrong. It takes time and patience to know when a romance is really going somewhere. I believe some people are more cautious because of this.”

As he spoke, Keira found her gaze wandering over to Cristiano. He appeared to be busy with something else but she wondered if he was just trying to distract himself from the topic of conversation. It seemed to Keira that Sergio was essentially describing Cristiano to a tee. He’d had his big love in Maria, and it had turned out to be wrong. He had become cautious as a result, perhaps learning the lesson of older Italian men more quickly than usual.

“This has all been extremely helpful,” Keira told the happy couple.

She thanked them and they left. Keira looked over her notes, feeling enlightened, wondering if it was too late to put things right with Cristiano.

*

They arrived in Venice to the sound of a church bell tolling in the distance. As they exited the station together, emerging into a slightly cooler fall climate, Keira discovered herself in spitting distance of the water. On the streets, people flowed in one direction like a current, sweeping Keira and Cristiano up and pulling them along. Keira found herself breathless, astounded by the beauty and glamour of the city and the gravity-defying buildings rising from the edge of the Grand Canal. That same blend of different architectural styles she had witnessed in Rome was here as well. From Byzantine, Gothic, Renaissance, Classical, and Baroque, it was a patchwork quilt of history.

“Where are we heading?” she asked Cristiano, feeling as though she had no choice but to helplessly follow the crowds.

“Piazzo San Marco,” he explained. “The hub of Venice. Are you ready?”

Keira wasn’t sure what to make of his comment, but she could see the sparkle of excitement in his eye and knew that whatever she was about to discover would blow her mind even more, if such a thing were possible.

When they reached the vast square, where music was playing and pigeons pecked crumbs from the ground, she was indeed astounded. The Gothic architecture was a treat to the eye, enchanting and charming at once. There were wine bars all around, filled with lovers exuding romance.