He didn’t laugh or flash his usual mischievous grin. “I’m asking as a friend, not a guide.”

And then I knew there was something more between us, and it wasn’t just me. Relief and a sweet rush of happiness filled me at his words. I didn’t analyze or try to label what I was experiencing—whether it be a flirtation or crush or something more. I just spilled out the truth.

“I got a call from the office last night and I lied to Allegra. Told her I was sick and left dinner early so I could return to the hotel. She figured it out and got upset. Then my mother came to talk to me, and it became this whole big thing about how I’m going to lose out on a relationship with my daughter because I make the wrong choices. You know the truly awful part?”

“What?”

“I think she’s right. I know I use work as a crutch when things get difficult at home. Instead of fighting for Allegra to talk to me, or pushing through the wall, or carving out some time, it’s so much easier to fall back on my career. What type of mother does that make me? I always resented my own mother for being there all the time and never wanted to be like her. Now? I’m wondering if I’ve been wrong the entire time and I screwed up my daughter’s life.”

Relief swept through me. It felt so good to talk to someone. I rarely opened up, but with his body heat pulling at mine and his gaze trained on my face while he listened, there was a bond that had grown between us.

“You cannot screw up someone’s life by loving them,” he said. He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek with a natural intimacy. My breath practically sighed through my lips at the contact, and his delicious scent swam around me. “I have watched my sisters rage and cry at my mama many times. There were even days or weeks when they did not speak for a while. But eventually, the bond between them was too strong to break by distance or stubbornness. Allegra is young and finding herself. And, yes, maybe you made some bad decisions, but you are not supposed to be perfect. I think your mama was trying to tell you to use this trip to see if you can mend some of those broken pieces, no?”

“Maybe. I think I have control issues.”

His laugh was as warm as his fingers on my bare skin. “Sì, this has served you well in the past, especially at work. But maybe you can use the next two weeks to experiment. Italy is your playground, and I am here to guide you. When was the last time you let go and didn’t worry?”

“When I was in elementary school,” I said.