“Um, I guess. If you want him to stay, we have plenty of room. But just for a day or two, okay? I want us to spend some time together.”

“Sure.” I’d been excited and nervous about Ian coming, but now, seeing him so peaceful in the cathedral, I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake. I craved more time with him. But was it just dragging out the inevitable and making things worse for when he finally left?

Mom began twisting her fingers in her trademark nervous gesture. “I wanted to tell you something at dinner tonight.”

My hackles rose. “You need to work on a project the rest of the week?”

“No! Oh, no, honey, I told you, I’m not working for the rest of the trip. It’s just something I wanted to mention, but now’s not the time. Do you want to check out the Duomo and climb the staircase? I’m going to stay here with Nonni. Take a picture for me.”

She was sure acting weird, but it was probably something lame she thought was important. I floated around, checking out the rest of the chapels, and Ian drifted over. “Ready for the view?” he asked. “Mom and Dad are passing on this one.”

“Mom and Nonni too. Which is kind of embarrassing.”

“Why?”

I motioned over to Mary and Ray, who were already heading up the steps with enthusiasm. He grinned. “Good, I’ll have something to tease the parents about now.”

We climbed the spiral staircase, pausing to admire the amazing up-close detail of the rose windows and stained glass. Staring down at the grand marble pulpit made me a bit dizzy—all that gorgeous artwork was almost too much to take in at once.

I had officially gone into an art coma.

Finally, we reached open air and gazed over the spectacular view of Siena. Red-tiled rooftops mixed with dusty brick and terra cotta, a grand jigsaw puzzle with sharp-angled pieces of buildings jamming into one another and creating a picture-perfect scene from above. I heard Ian catch his breath, and I stood still, savoring the spill of colors and textures and an ancient medieval city’s secrets.

Low murmurs from the others rose in the air. People wandered and snapped pictures. Ian and I didn’t move. Our shoulders were pressed together, the sun warming our naked arms and legs and faces, the scent of him drifting in the hot breeze—freshly washed cotton and clean soap—and the moment was imprinted forever on my memory.

“I could stay here all day,” he said quietly. His fingers brushed mine. “When I see the world unveiled like this, it makes me wonder how anyone can not believe in God.”

“You’re not an evolutionary type of guy, huh?” I teased.

He laughed and bumped my shoulder. “Guess not.” He paused, then turned to look at me. “I don’t want this to be it.”