Buch lesen: «Love Like That», Seite 3

CHAPTER FIVE

Keira soon discovered that putting the past behind her was much easier said than done, and would involve a whole lot more than symbolically deleting contacts from her cell phone. Because the moment she made it to Newark airport the next morning, she was bombarded with memories of Shane, of Ireland.

Feelings of nostalgia whirled inside her as she walked through the concourse. As she handed over her boarding pass at the gate, she remembered with vivid clarity the emotions she’d had last time – the anxiety mixed with excitement and hope. It hadn’t been that long ago but already she felt like a different person entirely, a sadder, more bitter person.

She boarded the plane and took her seat. Luckily, she was by the window, which gave her an excuse not to interact with the passenger beside her. She wasn’t in the mood for chatting. Unfortunately for Keira, the man beside her seemed intent on it. As they took to the air, he leaned over and spoke.

“Name’s Garrett. Ever been to Naples before?” he asked her, grinning jovially.

He was a middle-aged man, balding slightly. He appeared to be traveling alone. Keira noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring but that the skin was paler where a band had once been. A recent divorcee, she hypothesized, and groaned internally. It was going to be a long eight hours.

“No,” she replied, monosyllabically.

“So why are you traveling today?” he added. “Business or pleasure?”

Keira hunkered down in her seat. “Business,” she explained. “I’m – ”

She stopped herself then, recalling what Bryn and Nina had told her in the coffee shop about playing with fake identities for fun. She could do with a bit of fun. “I’m a wine connoisseur,” she said. “Top of my game. Heading to Italy to find some hidden gems for importing.”

Garrett raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That sounds like fun. A darn sight more exciting than my job, anyway.”

“Oh?” Keira asked. “What’s your job?”

“I’m in accounting,” he said. “Well, not completely. It’s a bit hard to explain. It’s easier just to say I’m an accountant for accountants. Does that make sense?”

Painfully so, Keira thought.

“Yes,” she said aloud.

How typical that she’d be sitting beside an accountant. It was like fate was trying to tell her to give up the search for Mr. Right and settle down with Mr. Math!

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear me drone on about my job though,” the man added. “Yours sounds fascinating. How did you get into it?”

“It is fascinating,” Keira continued, surprising herself with how easily she was lying and how much enjoyment she was getting from it. “My father was a wine importer,” she added. “He loved his job so passionately I was even conceived in a vineyard.”

She felt a little spark of excitement as the lie rolled easily off her tongue. She was really getting into the spirit of it. Her own father had left when she was very young and hadn’t been involved in her life much at all, so inventing a persona for him was easy. Plus, all this embellishment was going to come in handy over the course of her assignment, she figured, since she was going to have to pretend she still believed in love.

“Oh my,” the man beside her said.

“I know. He married there as well. But, sadly, he also died in that very same vineyard.” She sighed theatrically. “It only made sense to have him buried there too.”

Keira noticed the way the man moved to increase the distance between them. He was losing the will to speak to her, probably because of the way she’d steered the conversation toward the morbid. She laughed to herself as he tried to switch his attention to the in-flight movie.

The plane soared higher into the air. Soon the clouds were far below them.

Finally getting some peace and quiet, Keira took the opportunity to look through the itinerary that Heather had prepared for her. Immediately, it brought memories flooding back to her of her last assignment. Heather had used the same font, the same clinically organized layout with bullet points and headings. During the month in Ireland, Keira had defiled it, getting it covered in Guinness and bits of oil from the hearty Irish breakfasts she’d eat with Shane. There was no chance of that happening this time. She could already feel how different things would be with this second assignment. She felt older. More jaded.

Then, on the itinerary in her lap, Keira caught sight of a word that made her stomach drop. Tour guide.

Of course there’d be one, she realized now. Just because she’d fallen head over heels in love with the last tour guide, who’d then gone on to shatter her heart into a thousand pieces, that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be one for this assignment! Something about the thought felt dangerous to her. Was it just because of what happened last time? Keira wondered. Or because she had a spark of hope that it might happen again?

She shook the thoughts away and focused instead on the destinations. Touch down in Naples, and a night there before taking a train to the Amalfi Coast. A ferry to Capri. A gondola ride to a place called the Blue Grotto. Rome. The Vatican.

If she’d been going on vacation, Keira would have been thrilled with the itinerary. She looked at pictures of the places she’d be visiting on her iPad and they were all stunning. It was like the perfect romantic getaway. But that was just the problem. She’d be visiting some of the most awe-inspiring locations in the most romantic country on earth and she’d be doing it without Shane.

And to add insult to injury, she’d have to write about something she no longer felt. It would be like hitting herself over the head with romance day after day, rubbing salt into the wound of her heart, knowing that her own great love had been lost. It didn’t seem fair. Poetic injustice, Keira thought to herself. She just couldn’t get excited about the trip.

Feeling herself sliding into a depression, Keira called over the air steward and ordered herself a drink. Then she put her work things away and checked her social media accounts, which was always a great way to distract herself.

The drink arrived and Keira sipped it as she scrolled through Instagram, looking through a million pictures of cats, Bryn’s photos from the disastrous double date night at Gino’s, and Maxine’s most recent sponsored charity marathon. Then she noticed that Shelby had posted something that had received thousands of likes. It was a simple photo of her hand, and there was a ring on her wedding finger.

“No way!” Keira cried aloud, almost spilling her drink.

Garrett, the man in the seat beside her, looked over, frowning. “Is everything okay?”

Keira waved his concerns away. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Shelby hadn’t said a thing about marriage being on the cards. In fact, she spoke so rarely about her partner, David, that Keira sometimes suspected they’d secretly called it quits. How wrong she’d been! The two had been together since college, after all, so had a good seven years under their belt already. Marriage was the logical step for them. And yet it still stung for Keira to see it.

She called over the air steward again. “I’ll have another,” she said.

She needed something to calm her nerves. The man beside her looked over suspiciously. Keira just gave him a cold look, and he returned his focus to the movie, pretending he hadn’t been snooping in the first place.

She quickly fired off a congratulatory message to Shelby and David, though she was feeling closer to bitter than celebratory. It wasn’t something she wanted to feel. She’d much prefer to be happy for her old college friend. But she was too miserable right now, her heart too bruised.

She checked her phone, wondering whether Shane would get in touch with her at all. It had been a couple of days since they’d last spoken and she’d had no contact with him at all. He’d promised they could remain friends but clearly that was just something he’d said at the time. She doubted he had any intention of fulfilling that promise. Not even a message to let her know how Calum was doing, or any of the sisters. So much for friends…

She downed the second drink and soon the effects of the alcohol started to work on her. Feeling drowsy, Keira settled down into her seat and allowed sleep to overcome her.

May as well sleep through the unhappiness, she reasoned.

Keira slipped into unconsciousness and began to dream. Her mind conjured up the images of Italy she’d been looking at on her iPad. In the dream she was dressed in marathon gear and covered in mud. She’d had to run all the way to the Amalfi Coast in order to attend Shelby and David’s wedding. But when she finally got there, panting and covered in mud, she found that everyone was wearing a masquerade mask. And when David removed his, she saw that it was Shane standing there. The woman he was marrying? That was Bryn.

Keira staggered across the beach toward them.

“How could you betray me like that?” she cried, looking in horror at Shane. “I thought your dad was sick, that that was why we couldn’t be together.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I just made that up,” came his cold response. “I broke up with you because your sister is way hotter.”

Keira turned her gaze to Bryn then. “You’ve been lying to me all along! My own sister!”

But Bryn looked completely unfazed. “What was I supposed to do?” She shrugged. “He has a hot bod.”

Overcome with emotion, Keira looked around her, desperate, panting. One by one, the seated guests removed their masquerade masks. The first to unveil himself, Keira realized with horror, was another Shane. This Shane’s date was Julia, the girl Zach had cheated on her with. Beside that version of Shane, another Shane was revealed, this time with Maxine. And again and again and again, Shane with Shelby, Shane with Tessa, the girl from Ireland she’d thought Shane had slept with, Shane with her mom. Over and over again. Everywhere Keira looked the male guests morphed into Shane.

She fell to her knees and began to cry. But someone was suddenly gripping her elbow. She peered up, the sun obscuring her vision, and found herself looking into the most beautiful brown eyes lined with thick lashes.

“Keira, don’t cry,” the man said in a soft, musical Italian accent.

“Who are you?” she asked, allowing him to draw her to her feet.

“You don’t recognize me?” he asked, smiling.

His face was perfect, Keira realized as she looked at him. He was so gorgeous she felt herself growing weak at the knees.

Suddenly, he swept her up into his arms. He cradled her against his chest, holding her easily like she was weightless. The sea was suddenly sloshing around his calves. They were standing in the ocean.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Keira asked again.

The man laughed, a noise that was pure pleasure to her eardrums.

“I don’t need to tell you, you already know it,” he said.

Keira wracked her brains. Then the name came to her, suddenly and full of clarity.

“Are you Romeo?” she asked with disbelief.

The man smiled, his face alive with beauty. “Yes. I’m Romeo. Your Romeo.”

He leaned in toward her, slowly, their lips just millimeters apart.

A sudden jolt made Keira’s eyes ping open. She looked around, disoriented, startled to find herself on an airplane. They were descending through the clouds and the seatbelt sign was on. The final approach must have begun. She’d slept the whole journey.

The dream had left her panting. She touched her chest, feeling her heart fluttering beneath her shirt. Her head was still swirling with the effects of the liquor that she hadn’t managed to fully sleep off.

“I think you were having a nightmare,” Garrett said.

Keira rubbed her temples, recalling the strange dream she’d had. “Yes, I think you’re right. At first. I was being haunted by my ex-boyfriend who was marrying my sister. And all my best friends. And my mom.”

The man looked bemused. Keira wondered what he really thought of her. By his expression, she’d take a guess that he thought she was a nut job. A crackpot.

The plane touched down with a shudder, then began taxiing along the runway. When it eventually drew to a halt, the man beside Keira leapt up the second the seatbelt light flicked off.

“Avoiding the queues,” he said, sheepishly.

“Of course,” Keira replied with a quirk to her smile.

The cabin doors were opened and Garrett bolted for them. Keira laughed to herself. She’d enjoyed her fake persona. Maybe Bryn wasn’t as foolish as she always thought!

She gathered up her things and unbuckled herself, then retrieved her purse from the overhead storage. Heading along the aisle, Keira thought about how the game she’d played with Garrett would now need to be put into real action. For the next three weeks she was going to have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t, someone who still believed in love. Somehow, she had a feeling that doing so was going to be a whole lot harder than being the wine connoisseur had proven to be.

She stepped out of the plane and let the warm sunshine caress her skin. It was much nicer than the cold weather she’d left behind in New York City. There was something about the sun that always made her feel optimistic. It made everything look more beautiful, and though she couldn’t see much of Italy at the moment besides the airport, the surrounding hills looked stunning in the bright light.

She followed the path towards the concourse, knowing she’d soon be meeting her tour guide. For the first time since leaving New York, she let herself imagine that her Romeo was waiting for her…

CHAPTER SIX

By the time she’d collected her case and emerged out into the arrivals lounge, Keira’s daydreaming mind had gone into overdrive. She’d merged the Romeo of her dream with the tour guide she was about to meet, turning him into a fully fleshed out character who would sweep her off her feet with his fiery, passionate personality. She just couldn’t wait to meet him!

She stood with her case, looking around at the busy Naples airport. There were people all around holding signs and when Keira saw hers, her heart soared. The man holding it was a hunk.

Keira felt a charge of electricity race through her as she rushed over.

“Hi, I’m Keira,” she said, pointing at the sign with her name on it.

The man looked at her, confused, then looked at the sign. “Oh? This?” He started to laugh. “I was just holding it for some guy while he went to the bathroom.”

Just then, Keira caught sight of a man exiting the bathroom and heading in her direction. He was short, rotund, slobbish, badly dressed in a stained gray shirt and ill-fitting jeans, and what little hair he had left on his head looked like a messy bird’s nest. She willed him to walk by but realized, her heart falling, that he was heading straight for them.

The hunk with the sign noticed him. Once he drew up to them, the hunk handed him the sign and hurried over to where a stunning gorgeous girl had emerged into the arrivals lounge. They proceeded to pack on the PDA. Keira grimaced.

“Young love, eh?” the guide said, scratching the strip of exposed skin that his shirt wasn’t quite covering. “You Karla?”

“Keira.”

He checked the sign and shrugged. “American names sound the same to me.”

As he spoke a whiff of onion and coffee came off his breath, making Keira’s stomach turn.

“Come on,” he barked at Keira. “The car’s this way.”

He turned on his heel and strode off quickly, disappearing into the crowds of people and leaving Keira floundering in the middle of the airport. She grabbed her case and looked about frantically for the exit sign.

She saw it, and the back of the guide’s head as he swiftly walked through it. He hadn’t even turned around to check she was still with him!

With a grimace, Keira followed in the direction of the slobbish man, lugging her heavy case after her.

As she was knocked around by the jostling crowds, her excitement at the prospect of an Italian romance healing her broken heart was well and truly dashed. Instead of being whisked away by a handsome man she was going to have to endure onion breath and a rude tour guide.

So much for Romeo, she thought with a heavy heart.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Did you know that you’re late?” the tour guide, Antonio, said as he led her through the parking lot. The frown lines in his forehead were so deep it appeared as if he was scowling at her.

“It took a while for my bag to show up,” Keira replied, still reeling from the fact her hopes of meeting Romeo had been dashed.

Antonio made Keira feel very uncomfortable in his company, and not just because of the round, hairy belly that protruded over his waistband. His attitude was harsh, like a school teacher she could already tell she’d never be able to please.

The air was very hot, almost oppressively so, but that didn’t seem to slow him down. They hurried along, Antonio keeping a few paces ahead of Keira, who struggled to manage her cases. She was already becoming sticky with sweat.

“My back is bad,” he said, as way of an explanation for not helping her.

As they walked, Antonio spoke, his words coming out in a huge, fast stream, his voice like a barking dog. Keira thought of her dream Romeo. Antonio could not be further from that!

“Twenty-one days, huh?” he said, striding ahead so that Keira had to skip to keep up.

Already, she was dreading them.

He led her to a car. Keira had been expecting something nice, but instead was confronted with a small, old, rusty-looking vehicle.

“This is it?” she asked.

“There’s no room for the case in the back seats. Put it in the trunk,” Antonio ordered.

Keira popped the trunk and found that the car was filled with shopping bags. As she rammed her bag in beside Antonio’s groceries a waft of cheese stench emanated toward her. One of the bags fell open and some pecorino tumbled out. Keira put it back in, realizing with a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and disgust that all the grocery bags were full of pecorino cheese. Was that all the man ate? she wondered. Then she realized, additionally, that the smell was probably going to leak into her case and permeate all of her clothes. She was going to smell of cheese for the next three weeks!

She grimaced and shut the trunk. As she did so Antonio started the car’s engine, making a cloud of fumes sputter over her legs.

Furious, Keira climbed into the front seat beside him, discovering with horror that they were so close their knees were touching. She looked over at Antonio’s clammy, hairy hands clutching the steering wheel. The smell inside was a combination of cheese, sweat, and humid air.

Before she’d even had a chance to get her seatbelt on, Antonio gunned it. The car lurched forward and she gripped the sides of her seat as he drove, so tight her knuckles turned white. Antonio drove like a maniac.

“So tell me, New York,” Antonio said. “Bad place, huh? Lots of crime?”

Keira looked over at him, shocked. “No. I mean, not really. It has its problems, like all cities, but it’s wonderful.”

“Cold though, no?” Antonio pressed. To Keira he seemed to really be wanting to find the worst in her home city. “Like now it is cold. While we still bask in glorious sunshine.” He laughed wheezily, showing off crooked yellow teeth.

“Have you ever been?” Keira asked, a little offended by his comments.

“No no no,” Antonio replied, shaking his head as if the suggestion was ludicrous. “Never will I go to a godless city like that. Here we’re good Catholics.”

If Antonio had set out to rub Keira the wrong way he had certainly achieved his aim.

But if Antonio himself was a shock to the system, Naples was not what Keira was expecting either. The roads were very narrow, with terraced five-story apartment blocks towering up either side, with balconies made of rusting metal, clothes lines stretched between them covered in colorful linen that fluttered in the wind. There were next to no sidewalks, which meant people wandered into the road, often without looking, darting out from behind parked cars. Even the road signs and street lamps, Keira noted, were actually attached to the walls of the houses, since there wasn’t even enough space for a pole.

None of these obstacles made Antonio drive any slower, however. He just cursed loudly in Italian every time someone stepped into his path, swerving, sometimes honking his horn.

“Che cavolo!” he exclaimed loudly, gesticulating at an old woman who’d just stepped in front of him.

Despite not knowing exactly what Antonio was saying, Keira could tell it was some kind of expletive and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and shame for the old woman on the receiving end of his rage. But the woman just gestured rudely at Antonio. Clearly she was used to such occurrences.

Vespas whizzed past them. Keira noticed that the walls were covered with graffiti. There was so much that people had started drawing over the graffiti that was already there!

Keira lost count of the amount of pizzerias they passed. Her stomach grumbled. It had been hours since her bland airplane dinner.

They turned a corner and zipped past a stall set up at the side of the road selling fish. The smell made Keira gag and completely lose her appetite.

“Watch out!” Keira cried, as Antonio careened toward a filthy, mangy cat sitting in the middle of the road.

Luckily it ran out of the way just in time.

“Strays,” Antonio said, as if to explain why he hadn’t even attempted to slow down. “Pests. We’re infested with them.”

The cobbled streets made the car bump up and down. It was an uncomfortable journey to say the least.

“You’ll be able to see the mountain in a minute,” Antonio said. “Vesuvius.”

“Oh,” Keira replied, almost alarmed at what she perceived to be his first attempt to make small talk.

“There,” he said, suddenly, pointing to her left.

If the mountain had been visible it was only for a second, because Keira didn’t manage to see a thing.

“You saw it?” Antonio asked, rather aggressively. “Did you?”

“I must have missed it,” Keira mumbled in response. “We went by a little fast.”

“Fast?” Antonio scoffed. “Fast? I’m driving the pace of a snail thanks to this idiota in front of me!” He threw his arms toward the red car ahead of them, which they were practically touching bumpers with, then honked his horn over and over and swore again loudly.

He swung the car sharply down another side road. This one was filled with bags of garbage. The walls were covered in graffiti and many of the cars appeared abandoned, covered in dust and bird droppings. Here, several of the metal balconies above them were rusted and half falling from the walls. Many of the potted plants upon them were dead.

Antonio laughed suddenly and pointed at a huge billboard hanging over the entrance to what appeared to be a parking lot.

“A sexy lady, huh?” he said. “Our Italian women are goddesses.”

Keira squirmed even more. “Oh yes, they’re very beautiful,” she said.

“You looking at the trash?” Antonio said in his barking voice.

Keira guiltily turned her eyes away from the mountains of bags.

“It’s a big problem,” Antonio added. “Big problem. Here, they call it the Triangle of Death. All the waste causes cancer, birth defects, that sort of thing.”

Keira grimaced.

“The system does not do anything about it,” Antonio added.

“The system?” Keira asked.

“The mafia, you know?” Antonio added, again speaking in that way that made Keira feel like he thought she was a complete imbecile. “You will see them around. When there is a fight, they are there. They are the ones with the guns.”

With every passing moment, Keira felt more terrible. Had Elliot been aware of the conditions of this city when he’d arranged the assignment? She knew she was only supposed to be passing through but it still seemed like an oversight. Surely Heather would have known about the crime and poor conditions – she was so organized Keira couldn’t imagine such things evading her notice.

“Are there lots of fights around here?” Keira asked with trepidation.

“Sure, sure,” Antonio said. “Lots of bars and unemployed young people. It is a poor city. Always fights.”

Keira became increasingly worried about the time she’d be spending in the city.

“So, are we heading to the hotel now?” she asked.

“No time,” Antonio replied brusquely. “I am your guide. I am supposed to guide you.”

“Where are we going then?” Keira asked. She was exhausted and the uncomfortable interaction with Antonio coupled with her anxiety was making her even more tired.

“La Statua del Nilo,” Antonio replied. “Amazing statue. Ancient.”

He drove them at top speed through the narrow streets. Then suddenly he slammed on the brakes, making Keira jerk uncomfortably forward, the seat belt pressing painfully against her chest. She thunked back against the seat.

“There!” Antonio beamed.

Keira looked around her. The car was idling beside a stone plinth that was extremely weathered. Sitting atop was the statue, made of marble, depicting a man resting on his side, holding what appeared to be a bouquet of flowers.

“Amazing, huh?” Antonio pressed. “You do not get this in New York City! Culture! History!”

“Oh… um, sure…” Keira replied. “What is it?”

“The Nile God,” Antonio informed her. “With his decapitated serpent. People cut the head off the statue many times. This is not the original head.”

He seemed thoroughly amused by this fact. Keira, however, was not. It was an underwhelming attraction.

“Come on,” Antonio added. “Let us go to the church now, huh?”

“Aren’t you going to park the car?” Keira asked.

“It is parked,” Antonio said nonchalantly, already getting out of the car.

Cautiously, Keira also stepped out and looked back at the car, which was abandoned in the middle of the small piazza, blocking the route for everyone.

The air was extremely hot, making her feel even more uncomfortable.

“You want to see places people fall in love,” Antonio said. “Here. Church. The Santa Maria Assunta dei Pignatelli.”

Keira looked at the somewhat unwelcoming gray facade. Crowded outside the church were many people smoking cigarettes, holding cans of beer. Keira coughed as the smoke filled her lungs.

“Here?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, here,” Antonio replied. “Also over here.”

He gestured to a small road coming off the piazza which was completely filled with shadows. Keira followed him, feeling extremely uncomfortable. They stopped outside a building and Keira realized it was an Internet cafe.

“Is this a joke?” she asked, frowning at Antonio.

“No joke!” he replied defensively. “People come here to find lovers. It is true. Ask anyone.”

He practically shoved her inside the pokey shop. Inside were lurid yellow walls and tables crowded with computers. Antonio spoke in fast Italian to a young man nearby, then looked at Keira.

“This boy is speaking to his lover. He will have an interview with you.”

“What?” Keira asked, shocked.

“Get your pad,” Antonio barked. “Come on. I have found you an interview.”

Feeling unable to defy his orders, Keira pulled her notebook and pen from her purse.

“Well, I’m writing a piece about falling in love in Italy,” she explained to the young man.

The man laughed then, though it was more like a hyena’s cackle. Keira pursed her lips.

“Is something funny?”

“No, no,” the boy said, looking amused and trying to wipe the grin from his face. “Ask your questions.”

Keira took a deep breath. “So, tell me, have you found love here?” She gestured around her to the Internet cafe.

“Sort of,” the boy said. “I found a girl I like. A date.”

“Okay. And that was through the Internet? A message board, something like that?”

Internet dating wasn’t the angle Keira had been expecting to take, but maybe there was something in it. Perhaps she could link the history of Italy with the new evolving technologies younger people used to find love. Maybe there was a way she could link the piazza outside the church, which had once been a meeting ground for lovers, with its proximity to the Internet cafe.

But then the boy spoke and dashed her plans.

“I am only here because my phone was stolen. We met through one of those apps. You know. Swipe left. Swipe right.” He grinned cheekily.

Keira deflated. Dating apps weren’t exactly Italy specific. There still might be something to her story though. Maybe the Italian youths embraced those kinds of technologies in different ways from their American counterparts.

“So, do you think it’s love?” Keira asked. “With this girl you met on the app?”

“Of course,” he said. “She is beautiful. It is always love when you meet a girl that pretty.”

“There are lots of pretty girls,” Keira said. “What makes this one so special you can claim to love her?”

He shrugged again. “I love them all. If they are beautiful, I love them.”

Keira realized then that her definition of love and this young man’s differed greatly.

Just then, a woman in the seat beside leaned over then, chiming in, “Your assignment is naïve. Italy has no romance. Naples, especially. Have you seen the city?”

Keira’s brief encounter with Naples so far hadn’t filled her with any sense of romance at all. It was a crowded, dirty, intimidating place, like the worst parts of New York City. But she’d been hoping there might be an underbelly of romance beneath the grime, some kind of angle she could take; passion and anger were both hot-headed emotions, after all.

The woman continued ranting, much to the amusement of the other Internet cafe patrons.

“The men here chase women, sweet-talk them, say it is love, but they are all having affairs. It is just a game to them. Breaking hearts. Everyone is out for themselves. They say they love you because it is fun for them but the love does not endure. How many lovers do you have?” she demanded of the boy Keira had been originally interviewing.

He chuckled and shrugged in his nonchalant, arrogant way. “Seven. Maybe more.”

“You see!” the woman cried, passionately. “And he tells them all, Oh baby I love you, you are the only one for me. Pigs. The lot of them.”

The heated nature of the conversation was making Keira feel very uncomfortable.

“So you don’t think Italy is the most romantic country in the world?”

The woman shook her head emphatically. “That is a myth, just like the monogamous man is also a myth!”