John watched Anna as she finished her conversation. He didn’t know what to expect from a date with Anna. But there were a few things he was certain of. He knew he liked the way she treated this movie with seriousness, as if it were destined for awards rather than late-night viewing, which was more likely. He knew he liked the way she treated Matteo’s family with respect when they visited the set. He knew he liked the way she was protective of Jenny.

He knew he liked her. The more he worked with her, the more it was true. It was pretty damn simple.

John knew he should tell her about the option and working with her ex-husband. That was pretty simple, too. But at the same time, Hollywood, exes, and movie studios felt a million miles away. He was happy to leave them where they belonged for now.

Pauline and Sofia returned to the soundstage.

Anna put her hands in her pockets, staring at the ground in a very un-Anna-like pose. “Uh, so I spent most of my time thinking about how to ask you out and not about what to do exactly.”

John smiled. That seemed very Anna, and he didn’t mind. The rituals of dating had long been lost on him. In LA, everyone paid so much attention to the right restaurant, the right clothes, and being seen with the right people.

“But I have one of the production trucks, and my schedule is free,” Anna said, not looking as stressed as she might have.

“You trust me?”

“Of course,” Anna replied.

The conviction in her voice fortified him. “A friend opened a restaurant here, and I’ve been meaning to check it out.”

“Let’s go,” Anna said, handing over the keys.

John followed Anna to a vintage faded-blue truck. With its rounded wheel wells, curved nose, and low metallic grill that almost brushed the ground, it looked like a forgotten relic.

John maneuvered through the streets of Rome, having already planned a route from the studio. The traffic flowed like a river on a wild path, but when he focused on the flow of the water, like whitewater rafting, anticipating and correcting, it all worked as it should. He enjoyed it.

Anna didn’t talk, and John didn’t mind. Anna talked all day. He guessed she wanted a break from everyone asking her questions. The only sound besides the traffic was the hum of the old engine and the gentle tug of the gear shift.

Eventually, they left the crowded city center for the suburbs. This Rome didn’t appear on postcards or guidebooks. Tall gray apartment buildings lined the streets. An assortment of small shops occupied the first floors, and the upper floors were living spaces with house plants, drying laundry, and children’s toys on the small balconies. John arrived at his friend’s place, a small restaurant featuring North African cooking, Ethiopian, specifically.