He groaned, but I was already back out the door, a giggle bursting from my chest. How nice it was to flirt and feel beautiful to the man you were giddy over. I’d forgotten why so many novels and poems and movies were made about love.

It was like a hit of a sweet, wild drug that made you damn happy.

We sat on the terrace, drank lemonade, nibbled on oatmeal cookies Allegra had made, and chatted. “Your mom said you’ve been making some amazing meals here,” he commented.

Allegra looked surprised, then ducked her head. “Yeah, Nonni’s been teaching me since I was young. We’ve been experimenting with fresh ingredients from the market. Now I even know how to debone a fish.”

“My mother said cooking is the most beautiful art you can create in the world. It provides sustenance and nourishment for the body and soul. If you’d like, I know a chef in Lucca who teaches a cooking class. It’s just for the day—he takes you to the market, shows you how to pick food, and then you go to the kitchen and cook. I can call him if you’re interested.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Are you kidding me? I’d love that! Mom, do you think there’s time for me to do it?”

I turned to Enzo. “When does he offer the classes?”

“Wednesdays and Thursdays—so if you can take her into Lucca either of those days, I can make sure she gets in.”

“I think that’s a great idea. When is Ian coming, honey?”

“Tomorrow. But I know he’d love to join me if there’s room. We were talking about how wicked cool it’d be to prepare food with a real chef here. Nonni, you want to come too, right?”

My mother waved her hand in the air. “I think I’ll pass on that, sweetheart. I’ve cooked my whole life, and I’d rather take advantage of the grounds. You go ahead with Ian.”

“Okay, I’ll text him now. Thanks, Enzo.”

She grabbed her phone from the table and rushed out. “That was really nice of you,” I said quietly. “What an experience for her.”

“Not a problem. It’s good to take advantage of every opportunity, no? I’m happy to help. It’s hard at her age. I was lost for a long time before I realized what career path I wanted to follow.”

I sipped at my drink and sighed. “I still want her to go to an Ivy League school. She worked so hard on her grades and test scores. The idea of her leaving it behind to work in a kitchen makes me crazy.”

“There are options,” Mom said. “The Culinary Institute is an excellent school in Hyde Park and extremely competitive.”

“True. I’m trying to be more open.”