He told Sewanee his aunt had issues, generally, with men, present company included. He never felt he could live up to her expectations. She wrote fantasy men and measured real ones against them. He wasn’t academically motivated, he didn’t care about his appearance, he answered her questions with monosyllabic answers, he would rather play guitar than spend time with her . . . in short, he was a typical teenage boy. But to June, he was becoming just another poor excuse for a man.
He went back to Dublin for university, but only lasted a year. He came home, a college dropout who wanted to play music. A whole lot of nothing looking for something. One thing he was sure of: he would never become one of those men June lionized.
The night manager, alone in the hotel with nothing to do, brought them two small glasses of grappa, just because, and Sewanee and Nick thanked him. As they sipped, Nick said, “Do you think people sometimes know they’re dying, the way elephants do? Because June had started working on this project based on what she wished had happened between her and the guy she’d loved before she went to Ireland and met Tom. Of course, in her fictional version, Tom died a horrible death and the one-that-got-away was a legendary lover.”
Sewanee smiled. “Of course.”
Nick smiled back. But it quickly faded. “She called last October and said we had to talk. In person. I went. Her premonition or intuition or elephant-sense or whatever was spot-on. She attempted to make everything right between us. The struggles, the past, the conflicts . . . you know, as one tends to do at death’s door. Then, she laid out the Casanova project she was writing and made me promise to do it and that I would also promise to have you do it. She was adamant. To the degree that it was not to be done unless we did it together. She had to have things her way right up until the end. I actually admired that about her.” He stared off. “Three weeks later the writing was done and so was she.”
Sewanee winced. “When was this?”
“Right before Thanksgiving.”
“So, in Las Vegas . . .”
He nodded. “I was very much in it.” He gazed at his shoes. “I’m still in it.” He slunk down in his seat, stretched his legs out, crossed the ankles, rested the teacup on his chest. Sighed. “And when I plunked down next to you in the bar, I’d just come from sitting at a signing table for six hours. And being completely honest? I was livid at her then. Livid she waited too long to go to a doctor. That it took her dying to tell me how she felt. She left me with everything we could have had if only . . . it was a lot.” He fell quiet.
Then he finished the grappa and stood. “You look as knackered as I feel. I’m going to go.”
Sewanee stood, too, glancing at the clock above the reception desk and startled to see it was 2:15. “I’m a little insulted you didn’t try to pull off Just One Room. You could have run out the clock here and then been like, ‘oh, wow, look at the time, wherever shall I lay my weary head tonight?’”
“I considered it. But I thought it was a wee repetitive so I went with The Perfect Gentleman Who Knows He Should Give a Woman Space.”
“Ah, that old chestnut.”
Nick considered her. The way he looked at her: Would she ever tire of it?
“Do you have plans tomorrow?”
She shook her head. “Mom and Stu aren’t going to come into the city until dinner, so I’m on my own. Just walking around, alone. Exploring Venice. Alone.” She couldn’t help smiling after the last one.
Nick smiled back. “Well, since you’ll be alone and all, how about I meet your alone self at the train station. Ten o’clock?”
Sewanee blinked. “The train station? Are we going somewhere?”
“Depends if they have trains at the train station.”
They were both tired enough that this made them laugh.
“Where?” she asked.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Trust me?”
She did. God help her, she did. She didn’t know why, exactly, but if he was even a fraction of the man she’d corresponded with, a fragment of the man she’d spent a glorious night in Las Vegas with, then the sum of those parts was enough. She nodded. He flashed her a grin, picked up his knapsack, and left her standing in the lobby.
Chapter Fifteen
“Getting to Know You”
A TABLE AND TWO TO-GO CUPS OF COFFEE BETWEEN THEM, SEWANEE heard the doors close and felt the cabin lurch gently beneath her and it occurred to her she was on a train, about to roll over the Italian countryside, with Nick, and how the hell had that happened? She’d always wanted to travel through Italy and now she was. She was beginning to glimpse how difficult she could make things. How she tended to see obstacles instead of answers. Why did she overcomplicate everything?