Catch Me When I Fall (20 page)

“Is my mom…?” She didn’t finish her sentence.

“She’s safe. Her Protectors have been alerted and will let us know if anything happens.”

“God, she must be so terrified, thinking I’ve gone missing.”

“We staged the house so it looks like you left of your own accord. Your mother will be fine. Once we’re positive you’re safe, we’ll take you home.”

Kayla nodded and wiped at her nose.

“Hey, how would you like to see the city?” I asked.

She looked up at me and spoke with a shaky voice. “But isn’t that dangerous? I mean, with the warlock out there and everything.”

I shook my head. “This is our home city. There are Catchers and Weavers all over the place. There isn’t a safer place on Earth for you.”

When she nodded, I kissed her and left to shower and change. After the attack, she needed something to lift her spirits.

n hour later, we met outside her room. When Kayla emerged, her long, dark hair fell in waves down her back, and she donned a light blue, spaghetti-strap dress. Her eyelids were covered in a shimmery, gold shadow that made her irises pop. She looked just as radiant as she had the night I took her to Paris. I smiled, silently thanking Tabbi for stocking the room with girly things, and held out my hand for Kayla to take.

Kayla was only on the eighth floor out of the total twelve stories, but I gave her a quick tour of the lower levels as we passed through each of them. And when we reached the grand foyer, her jaw slacked. I chuckled, leading her out the front door.

We walked hand-in-hand past the pink, orange, yellow and cream-colored buildings of the city. Every now and then she’d trip on one of the road’s cobblestones, and I’d grip her hand tighter to support her. A few times we had to dodge a car, but we mostly kept to the side streets.

On one of the corners stood a short man dressed in an elf costume, begging for tips, and twice we had to duck underneath clotheslines that hung low, weighed down by all the drying shirts. A smile was plastered to Kayla’s face, and her eyes took in every sight, jumping from one side of the street to the other like a video camera trying to capture every moment.

The closer we got to the piazza, the more people we ran into. Everywhere, people from all nationalities filled the streets, and finally, we crossed into a large, open courtyard. A grandiose fountain sat in the very center with stairs that led up to each edge of the base. People visited along the steps, chatting and marveling at their purchases.

All around the piazza, vendors sold various products, from jewelry to food to pottery and plants. The smells of baking bread and spices flooded my nose, and across the square, a musician sat on the ground, playing sitar. Doorways to different restaurants and shops stood between the vendors’ displays. People walked through the piazza with smiles.

“This is amazing,” Kayla said. She turned in a full circle, looking at every vendor, every store.

“This is the
Piazza dei Sogni Eterni
, or Plaza of Eternal Dreams. It’s been here for at least a hundred years, if not longer. You won’t find the piazza on travel sites or brochures, but it’s one of my favorite places in Rome. See that restaurant over there?” I pointed across the square. “They make the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted. And that little ice cream place has the best chocolate gelato. And over here is a bookstore that carries original copies of the most famous works in history.”

I led her to the bookstore, a place I had frequented quite often over the years, and walked through the open, arched doorway into a two-story building that housed books from floor to ceiling. In the back, a coffee shop sold pastries and newspapers.

The storekeeper noticed me immediately. He was a short, pudgy man with black hair that wrapped around the back of his head. The top of his head was so bald you could use his scalp as a mirror. He clapped his hands and limped over. “Daniel!
Cosi felice di vederti! Dove sei nascosto
?”

“What did he say?” Kayla asked.

“He’s glad to see me and wants to know where I’ve been.” I turned to the storekeeper, Signore Derci. “
Ciao, amico. Il lavoro mantiene un occupato. Vi present la mia ragazza,
Kayla.” I hoped Kayla wouldn’t mind me calling her my girlfriend. But I’d begun to think of her that way. Then again, she wouldn’t have understood my words anyway.

Signore Derci approached her, took her hand and kissed her fingertips. He spoke with a very thick accent. “Miss Kayla. Very happy to meet you. You are beautiful girl.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

Nudging her gently toward the coffee shop, I smiled. “Okay, I think I better separate you two. Good to see you, Signore Derci.”

He laughed and waddled away to help a customer at the register. I pulled out a chair at a round table in the back of the store for Kayla to sit. “Coffee or tea?”

“Black coffee, please.” She smiled.

I touched her cheek then ordered our coffees, grabbing a pastry for us to share. The plan was to take her to dinner, but I didn’t want her to be starving by the time we got there. We’d eaten the pizza hours ago.

“Black coffee, huh? Would’ve taken you for a cream and sugar girl,” I said when I sat down, breaking the flaky dessert in half and handing some to her.

“Nope. I’m easy to please.”

“Well, that’s good, considering today’s outing doesn’t include a sparkling Eiffel Tower. But I remember you saying something about all girls liking to shop?”

Kayla laughed. “You don’t need to spend your money on me, Daniel.”

“I’m not. It’s Giovanni’s. And we get our money from the Vatican. So really, it’s the Pope’s money.”

“The Pope knows about you?”

“He’s one of the only humans on the planet who does, and he’s sworn to secrecy. But being ‘God’s appointed’ or whatnot, he’s entitled to know what’s going on behind the veil.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll try not to buy everything in the city, then.” She smiled.

Once we finished our coffees, we spent a few minutes in the bookstore. Having left all of her books in Columbus, I convinced Kayla to pick up a few copies to fill part of the bookshelf in her room. Then we stopped at different vendors. We sniffed perfumes—which made me sneeze—had our caricatures drawn, and tried on different hats and scarves like kids playing dress up. Kayla posed with the scarves and hats, each time in a different position with a different look on her face, like a model during a photo shoot. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. I loved seeing this side of her.

We passed a man painting a watercolor landscape of the villa. Kayla yanked on my hand when she stopped to watch, her excitement mirroring the night we’d been in Paris. Her eyes creased at the corners, and her lips turned up in a soft smile. I couldn’t help but grin, seeing her so peaceful.

When the sun started to go down, we sat on the steps of the fountain, listening to one of the musicians singing and playing a soft, romantic waltz on his sitar.

“What’s he saying?” Kayla asked.

I listened to the man singing in Italian and translated for her. “‘The red rose whispers of desire; the white rose breathes of love. Forever I will treasure you. Each day, a rose to you I will send, now until the end.’”

She scrunched her nose. “That’s cheesy.”

“It sounds better in Italian.”

“Yeah, I should’ve left it alone.” She smiled as her hair blew over her sun-kissed shoulders in the evening breeze. “Thank you for today, Daniel. I don’t remember the last time I had this much fun. And after yesterday…” Her eyes fell to the ground.

“I know. It’s been a good day for me, too.” Usually, I came to this place alone and was in and out of one or two shops before heading back to the mansion. It was great being here with her, building memories I never thought I would. Taking her hand, I lifted her to her feet. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“I want to get you something.” I led her across the piazza to a small jewelry shop.

“Daniel, no. You already bought me a few books. That’s enough.”

“Oh, please. What girl doesn’t like to receive jewelry?”

Kayla bit her lip and peeked through the doorway at the different displays. Then she pointed at me. “Okay, but nothing expensive.”

Smiling, I led her through the door, and together, we picked out a yellow gold necklace with a charm in the shape of a rose. I clasped the pendant around her neck when we left the shop.

“So, do I have the Pope to thank for this, too?”

“No, I used part of my inheritance.”

“Wow. How rich were you?”

“Rich enough.”

“Well, thank you. I shan’t take it off,” Kayla said in her best British impression.

I shook my head at her attempt to mimic my accent. “Do me a favor and don’t do that again.”

She laughed. “Sorry.”

Slipping my hand into hers, I smiled. “Peckish?”

“Didn’t you just tell me I couldn’t speak British-ese?”

I chuckled. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“How does lasagna sound?”

After spending dinner talking and chowing on lasagna and cheesecake—and drinking one too many glasses of wine—we walked back to the mansion in the moonlight. We laughed the entire way up the stairs to the eighth floor and kissed outside her bedroom like we were at the back of a movie theater. I had to let her go when my resolve to drop her off like a gentleman dissolved. By the time I got to my room, I was blissful and exhausted and barely got my clothes off before passing out.