Page 26 of Better Than Gelato (Ciao Bella #1)
Jake starts dishing out cake, and Paolo leans in and whispers, “Valentina wanted to make her special Slovakian dessert for you tonight, but I let her know it was against the restaurant's policy to bring in outside food.”
“Paolo, you are a true friend,” I say. “And I mean that from the bottom of my stomach.”
I’ve barely finished my last bite of tiramisu when Diego starts chanting, “ Regali! Regali! ” and suddenly the table is filled with presents.
“Wow. Thanks, ragazzi ,” I say. Suddenly my throat feels a little tight. Six months ago, I didn’t know any of these people, and now, they’re my people.
Jake hands me a gift.
“That’s mine,” Diego calls from the end of the table. I carefully unwrap it and find a silver antique-looking brush.
“Diego, this is beautiful!” I tell him.
“Well, I noticed that you have a lot of hair,” he says. “Then when I was thinking about what to get you for your birthday, I saw this cool brush and remembered all the hair you had, and I thought you’d like it.”
“I love it,” I tell him. When I give him a big hug, I notice that he’s put on some weight. I guess I’m not the only one.
The next gift is from Paolo. It’s a large glossy white box with an elaborate pink bow on top. I carefully lift off the lid to reveal six giant pomegranates nestled in tissue paper. A smile slowly spreads across my face, and I lift one up to show the group.
“You got her a box of melograno ?” Carmen asks. She looks appalled.
“Pomegranates are my favorite,” I say. “It’s a fantastic gift!”
“Julieta happened to mention Angelo, who she buys pomegranates from near her apartment,” Paolo says. “And I thought, when you know your pomegranate vendor by name, you really love pomegranates.”
I lean over and give Paolo a hug, and he whispers in my ear, “I didn’t want to upset Jake by giving you diamonds.”
He says it lightly, but it makes me think how doubly thoughtful his gift was.
“Okay, mine’s next,” Carmen says. She pushes a gift bag toward me.
I pull out a full-length dress in a dark slinky material.
“This is just what I needed!” I say delighted.
“I know,” she says. “It’s a wardrobe staple. It’s a mid-weight material, so you can wear it casually, or dress it up and wear it formally. I think the cut will be very flattering on you.”
“It looks perfect,” I say. “Thank you, Carmen.”
There’s one more gift left on the table wrapped in paper with a daisy print.
I unwrap it and discover a large canvas with a black and white photo of Milan. In the bottom right corner it says, Milano 1910. It’s stunning.
“I know you like photography,” Valentina says. “And I thought this would be a great way to remember your special year in this city.”
I feel tears pricking in my eyes. I give Valentina a hug.
“I love it,” I whisper to her.
“I’m so glad,” she whispers back.
“Thank you for the incredibly thoughtful gifts,” I say. “You guys are the best.”
“Hey, Jake, where’s your gift?” Diego asks. Carmen gives him an elbow.
Jake slips a white envelope from his jacket pocket and hands it to me. I pull out a sheet of paper and read through it.
It’s an email confirmation. For a plane ticket from Sacramento to Milan. For my mom.
I stare at Jake in shock. “How did you even do this?”
“Marco let me know the dates they’re going out of town for spring break. Your mom was reluctant to let me buy her ticket, but she came around when I told her what a great gift it would be for you.”
“What is it?” Diego hollers.
I hold up the ticket and wave it above my head like a maniac. “My mom is coming to Italy!” I let out a squeal and throw my arms around Jake. “You are the greatest human alive,” I tell him and then kiss him good. There are some whoops and hollers from the table, but I ignore them.
After dinner, we load all the gifts into Paolo’s trunk and then squish into his car. Me and Jake are wedged into the back seat with Carmen and Diego, and I start tickling Carmen just to make things worse. I feel silly with happiness. I’m twenty-one, and my mom is coming to Italy!
Paolo drives us to a new club that just opened.
It’s a little tacky, decorated with more geometric shapes than is healthy for the eyes, but it plays very danceable 90s music.
We spend the next two hours enjoying Britney Spears, the Spice Girls, and Backstreet Boys.
Jake and I try and fail to teach the group the “Bye Bye Bye” dance.
At the end of the night, Paolo drives us to Jake’s apartment so we can pick up my shopping bags from the market. Jake loads them into Paolo’s trunk as Paolo counts each bag. “Good heavens, woman! What will you buy next week if you bought up the whole market today?”
I ignore his question and pull Jake in for a kiss. “Thank you for your amazing birthday gift. I can’t believe you did that for me.”
He kisses me and whispers in my ear, “There’s not much I wouldn’t do to make you happy.”
We drop off Diego, Carmen, and Valentina, and by the time we make it back to the Rossis’, the clock on Paolo’s dashboard says 1:05 a.m.
“Let’s get you and your ridiculous pile of birthday treasure up to your apartment,” Paolo says.
“I do have a lot of things, don’t I?”
“Yes, my Dolcetta, you have a lot of things.”
I load up my birthday treasures and my bags from the market and we head to the apartment. I hit the elevator button with my elbow and when it arrives, I let Paolo go in first. I squeeze in next to him and one of the bags lands on Paolo’s pile of stuff and two more land at my feet.
Paolo looks at me and says, “Excuse me, bella donna , your bag has landed on my foot.”
I can barely see the floor, but I make out a pink and gold blouse spilling over Paolo’s shoe. I start giggling.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say with feigned horror. “Let me get that.”
I dramatically drop all the bags I’m carrying and bend over to retrieve the bag on his foot. My jostling must have upended the pomegranate box because I feel two slip out and land on my back before rolling to the floor. I’m giggling so hard I’m hiccupping now.
“Madam, are you well?” Paolo asks in a polished tone, but I can tell he’s moments away from losing it.
“Oh yes, quite well,” I say. “Just collecting my things.”
“Well, if there’s anything I can do to be of assistance,” Paolo says, “please keep it to yourself.”
I give him the grade school hit to the back of the knees, and it sends him crumbling to the elevator floor with his pile of boxes and bags.
“Oh, you’ve come to help!” I say between hiccups. “How kind of you!”
“Yes, I’m very kind,” Paolo says. “Everyone who knows me talks of Paolo’s kindness.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open to find us in a heap on the floor. For some reason, the ding makes me laugh even harder. “Ding!” I repeat. “Ding!”
“Dolcetta, did you have some birthday drinks?” Paolo asks suspiciously.
That makes me laugh some more. “No, I don’t drink,” I say.
“Yes, I’d heard that,” Paolo says. “And yet what am I to make of the hiccupping girl on the floor of the elevator?”
“You’re on the floor too,” I point out.
“That’s true. Let’s get ourselves sorted.” The doors to the elevator have started to close.
Paolo scrambles over a box and punches the open-door button just in time. We manage to collect our things and get them back where they go. I crawl out and give Paolo a hand up.
“We did it!” I yell and throw my hands up victoriously. The bags swing wildly, and Paolo has to duck to avoid getting hit in the face.
“We made it from the car to the apartment,” he says. “It’s quite the achievement.”
“It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“Yes, I think we have a gift for making the simplest things a challenge. Would you like some help carrying your things to your room?”
“Yes. But we must be quiet like ninjas. Can you be quiet like a ninja, Paolo?”
“I am stealth personified,” he says.
I open the door and scoop up my bags and then motion for Paolo to follow me as I tiptoe down the hall to my bedroom. He carefully unloads his packages onto a chair in the corner and then we tiptoe back down the hall to the front door.
“Thank you for everything,” I whisper.
“Happy birthday,” he whispers back.
I snuggle into bed and let all the wonderful things about my life fill my mind and lull me off to sleep.