Page 20 of Better Than Gelato (Ciao Bella #1)

Chapter Twelve

T oday is an obscure Italian holiday and the whole gang is going to Switzerland for the weekend.

Switzerland! Paolo managed to book us two rooms at a bed and breakfast at the base of the Alps.

The rates are super cheap. He says it’s because we’re sleeping three to a room, but I suspect it’s because it’s a mafia safe house.

We arrive to a world of white. I’ve never seen so much snow in my life. I didn’t even know that much snow could exist in one place. Paolo shivers and mutters something about missing Sicily.

We drop off our bags at the lodge and go exploring. Pine branches bow under the weight of the snow and all the shops look like they’re made of gingerbread. It’s idyllic, but this California girl starts losing feeling in her toes quickly. I’m relieved when we head back to the lodge.

A snowball fight breaks out just as we near the entrance, and after narrowly avoiding a snowball to the face, I zip up to the girl’s room to grab my camera, then settle onto the front porch to record the battle.

Jake and Diego are crouched behind a wheelbarrow filled with snow.

Diego lands a snowball in the center of Paolo’s back and then drops down before Paolo can see him.

Carmen is darting behind trees getting close to Jake and Diego, but they haven’t seen her yet.

I snap and snap and snap. I’ve been watching tutorials on action shots, and I think I’ve gotten better.

It’s hard to zoom in when everyone is moving so fast, but I love capturing their expressions best of all.

Carmen is steps away from Jake and Diego’s position, and I focus on Diego’s face and wait. I know Carmen will go for him first.

Sure enough, just as he’s about to launch a shot at Valentina, he takes a snowball to the back of the neck at close range.

His mouth drops open in surprise, and his eyes squinch shut in cold, and I capture it perfectly.

I swivel to capture Carmen’s triumphant face.

Her hair is in disarray, and she’s laughing.

Eventually we head to our rooms, wet and cold and promising vengeance.

“We’ve been here three hours, and I’ve gone through all my clothes for the weekend,” I tell Valentina and Carmen as I lay my wet socks on the radiator.

“Just buy some new ones,” Carmen says.

“This is a Swiss resort town. I don’t think pants cost the same here as they do at the Sant’Ambrogio market.”

“So have Jake buy some for you,” Carmen says. “He’s loaded.” She’s changing out of her sweater and laying it out to dry.

“He’s not loaded,” I say reflexively.

“Okay, his family is, same thing.” She says it like everyone knows this.

I look at Valentina for a second, but I’m not quite sure what to ask.

Carmen slips a dry sweater over her head and then looks at me curiously. “You didn’t know he was rich?”

“I never thought about it. He doesn’t seem…”

Now Carmen is smirking at me. “What, because he doesn’t dress like Paolo? And he always needs a haircut? Both of his parents are doctors . And his house is gigantic.”

My face heats. How could I have been so oblivious?

“When did you see pictures of Jake’s house?” I ask.

It comes out more accusatory than I meant, and Carmen does not respond well. Her hands go to her hips, and her eyes narrow.

“I saw pictures of his house when we were all sharing photos of our homes,” she says defiantly. “It was before you got here. And if I know more about him than you, it’s because I’m paying attention.”

I need to leave this room.

For a moment, I try to think of some polite excuse, but when I can’t, I simply open the door and walk out. I head down to the first floor and find a tiny library tucked into a hallway near the lobby.

I’d just assumed that Jake’s family was like mine. Only why would they be when my parents run a dry cleaner, and his parents are both doctors?

I plunk into a big red armchair and replay conversations I’ve had with Jake.

Talking about going camping as a family, because we were too broke to go on a real vacation.

Worrying about how I’ll pay off my student loans when I get back.

How stupid I must have sounded. I’m scuffing my shoe on the carpet and feeling like a moron when there’s a knock on the door frame.

“Come on in,” I mumble.

Jake sits in the chair next to mine. “Cool library.”

“Yeah.” A thought pops into my head. “Do you have a library in your house?”

“A small one, yeah. It’s filled with my parents' books from med school. Why?”

“Are you super rich?” I ask bluntly.

He gives me a weird look. “We do okay.”

I suck in a breath. “You’re so rich you have to downplay how rich you are.”

Jake holds his hands out and raises his shoulders in the universal gesture for, ‘I’m not sure what to tell you.’

My shoulders slump. I don’t know what I want from him.

“You seem surprised,” Jake says, taking my hand. “And upset. Is it a big deal if my family has money?”

“I just feel weird around you now.” I fiddle with the trim on the arm of my chair. “All my stressing about paying off student loans, I thought it was something you would get. But you don’t.”

I take a deep breath and look at him. “And there’s probably a bunch of stuff I don’t get about you. Does your family own a yacht? Do you have a personal chef? Do you swim in a pool filled with caviar?”

“We don’t own a yacht,” Jake says. “We had a housekeeper who cooked dinner a couple times a week because my parents worked crazy hours. I have never once swam in a pool filled with caviar. We fill ours with champagne. Better for swimming.”

He smiles at me and when I smile back, he pulls me into his chair and wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry if this makes things weird. Maybe now you can stop feeling bad when I pay for dinner.”

“I know that should make it better,” I say “but now it feels like I’m a spoiled girlfriend whose rich boyfriend buys her everything. Nobody wants to be that girl.”

Jake coughs. “Actually, lots of people want to be that girl. I’ve had the misfortune of dating that girl a time or two.”

“Well, I don’t want to be that girl,” I say firmly.

“Wait, what are you saying?” His eyes fill with hurt.

I backtrack immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I love being with you. I just got freaked out about the money thing, which is something that happens when you don’t grow up with it. But I’ll adjust.”

I take another deep breath. “And I probably need to apologize to Carmen. Otherwise, sharing a bed tonight is going to be super awkward.”

“You could apologize…or you could sneak into my bed.” He gives me dramatic eyebrow raises like a cartoon character.

I laugh and give him a kiss. I expect to see him smiling, but his face suddenly looks serious.

“There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” he says.

My hands start sweating. What does he want to talk to me about? About sneaking into his bed? Was he serious about that? I climb off his lap and move back to my own chair.

“I never know when to have this conversation,” he starts. “And this is probably too early, but …”

What’s early? What’s he talking about??

Jake runs a hand through his hair. “Remember when we were walking, and you told me about your first kiss?”

“Yes...” Spin the bottle, seventh grade, Andy Bowers.

“And I told you about my first kiss?” Michelle Terry. Mistletoe. Eighth grade.

I nod my head, still unsure where this is going.

“Well, that was my only first. There haven’t been any other firsts.”

“You haven’t kissed anyone since eighth grade?”

That’s weird, right?

“No, there have been other kisses,” he says. He looks up at the ceiling. “But no, um, other first times.” He tries to meet my gaze but doesn’t quite make it there. His cheeks are pink.

“So you’ve never…?”

He shakes his head. “No.” He risks a quick glance in my direction. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t have any judgments toward people who do things differently. I just have my own plan. One that involves a really great wedding night.”

Oh.

“This is probably more information than you needed at this point,” Jake says, running his hands down his thighs to his knees. “I just wanted to get on the same page.”

I debate a second and then say, “I don’t think it will be an issue. I’m not necessarily waiting until marriage, but I do have certain expectations for who and when, etcetera, and so far they haven’t been met. So…I’m in your same boat.”

“You’re in my same boat?” Jake finally makes eye contact with me.

“I am.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He rubs one hand down his face.

I laugh. “Have you been afraid of me trying to seduce you?”

He smiles. “Half-hoping, half-dreading, I suppose.”

I don’t love conversations like these, but I’m glad Jake brought it up. I also like being on the same page.

“Well, I guess that means I’m sharing a bed with Carmen tonight,” I say dramatically.

“Yeah, better go work that out,” Jake says.

“I’ve been pretty insensitive,” I say standing up. “You and I became a thing, and if it works out with Valentina and Paolo, Carmen will be the only single girl in our group. That can’t feel good.”

“You’re probably right.” He takes my hand and starts tracing the veins at my wrist. “Do you feel like finding the rest of the gang and playing pool? Or would you rather hang out here a bit more?” His tone is casual, but the look in his eyes is not.

“I’m terrible at pool,” I say, and let him pull me onto his lap.

A long time later, we leave the library holding hands.

We find the rest of the group in the rec room finishing their game.

“ Benvenuti ragazzi ,” Paolo says. “You missed a great game.”

“If by great you mean completely demoralizing,” Carmen says.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” Paolo says.

“The boys beat us pretty good,” Valentina admits. “How about a new game? And maybe we switch up the teams.”

“What’s the matter, Valentina?” Diego asks. “Tired of being on the losing team?” Valentina nods her head unabashedly.