We get back to the station, and the first thing I do is look for Aiden. I head to Elsa’s office. She’s behind her desk, typing on her laptop.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“He’s in good hands. I gave him to Fluvia.”

I walk from her office directly to Fluvia’s desk. I scan her workspace for something that would indicate the presence of a child. “Where’s Aiden?”

“He is eating lunch with Francesco.”

I walk to Francesco’s cube. It’s empty, but I hear what sounds like his voice coming from down the hall. I follow the laughs and merry high-pitched voices into the break room, where Francesco and Olivia, another staffer, are at a table, scribbling with Aiden.

Olivia looks at me. “He is a natural artist.”

Aiden turns to me with bright eyes and throws his hands up. “See, Madre!”

“Ciao, bello. Are you having fun?”

“Si, si,” he says, shaking his hands.

I kneel, so Olivia gets up and Francesco slides to his left to make some space. I look at Aiden’s drawing.

“I have some crayons in my purse,” Olivia says.

I trace my fingers across the drawing. “Is this Mommy and you?”

Aiden points at the stick figure of the woman. “Mommy.” He taps the other image. “Aiden,” he says in his little boy’s voice.

“He finished eating, and we had fun,” Olivia says.

“Molto,” Francesco says, waving. “Now we must go back to work.”

“Thank you,” I say.

They leave the break room just as Elsa walks to the door.

“How did it go?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I think you should be the judge of it.”

She waves, motioning me to follow her. “Allora, let’s go to the editing room and take a look.”

I pick up Aiden and follow her to the editing room. On our way, she turns back and gives me disapproving eyes.

The footage starts playing on the screens in front of us. It’s as stiff and awkward as I thought.

Elsa looks at me and takes a deep breath. Alessandro, the editor, is trying to piece this together.

“It looks like the subject might be a little unenthusiastic,” she says.

“I thought that might be the case,” I say. “Believe me, I tried to spruce him up while on location.”

“I know. I’m sure you did,” she says.

Aiden starts whimpering with his face buried in the crook of my neck. I bounce him in my arms, but I gather he’s just tired from a long day. He probably hasn’t even had a nap.

Elsa looks at me. “You’d better go home and rethink your decision about unhiring the nanny.”

I slump my shoulders. “Agreed.”

After I get to my car, strap Aiden in, and get the AC blowing, I shuffle for my phone, look up Floriana’s number, and call. It goes to voice mail, and I leave her a message.

Next I stop by the bakery for some fresh bread. I’m lucky enough to find a parking space nearby, which makes it easier on Aiden. He’s still asleep when I put him in the stroller. The aroma of fresh-baked bread simmers in the air.

When we arrive, I’m not surprised to see a line almost out the door. The inside is packed with people like sardines in a can. I squeeze in and try to hold my spot in line. I wonder if I should’ve even made this stop. I look down at Aiden. His head is resting against the side of the stroller, eyes closed. He’s out like a light.

Somebody bumps my shoulder, edging himself one place in front of me. I realize I’m about as tired as Aiden and decide to just head back to the car and go home.

I start backing my stroller out, making sure to bump the people behind me out of the way with my hips. A man appears right in front of me.

“Excuse me,” I say while trying to spin the stroller around.

“Ciao, Liza,” he says, eyes wide.

I stop moving the stroller for a second and look up. My smile forms almost instantly.

He’s dressed again in a white cotton tee, his masculinity stretching the shirt’s limits. His pants are again stained by paint. His face brightens. The captivating glimmer of orange and green in his eyes warms my body. I feel as if the crowded store has emptied and it’s just him, Aiden, and me.

“Gianfranco, ciao.” I can’t believe it’s actually him, here in the bakery.

His posture shifts as another patron forces by.

“I’m sorry.” I turn to look behind me again. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

He looks at Aiden, then steps past me with masculine force.

“Scuasami. Scusami,” he says with authority.

I feel the people behind me part like the Red Sea. I look at him, feeling surprised… relieved… I slowly back my stroller out through the door.

When we get outside, I say, “Thank you.”

He bows his head gently. “You are welcome.”

We fall awkwardly silent.

“I thought you had people to come down here and buy your bread,” I say with a smile.

He chuckles. “Nope, I buy my own bread.” He looks down at Aiden. “So is this your baby?”

I follow his gaze. “Yeah, this is my son.”

“Then you are married?”

I throw a hand up. “No! I mean, no,” I say more calmly. “I’m divorced.”

“Oh.” The glimmer in his eyes returns. He bends down. “What is his name?”

“Aiden.”

Gianfranco’s eyes peer up at me. “Little Fire?”

I feel my eyes brighten. “Yes, Little Fire. That’s what it means.”

He looks around. There are people bustling everywhere. “He could sleep through WWII, no?”

I chuckle. “And World War I.”

He looks back at Aiden. “Good for you.” He stands, and our eyes meet again.

“Well, did you come for nothing?” he asks.

I sigh as I peer into the store behind him. “I was going to get a baguette, but—”

“They’re like animals in there.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the bakery.

My face brightens, although I doubt as much as his. “Yes, animali.” I raise my index finger declaratively with a smile.

He laughs, nodding confidently, then stops. He looks at me, deadpan serious. “How many do you want?”

“I was going to buy two.”

Again, we’re caught in one another’s stare.

“Here.” He reaches his arm out, offering me his bag from the bakery. “Take mine.”

My mouth falls open in astonishment. “I can’t.”

“But you must. It is my way. The Italian way.”

I take the bag humbly. “Grazie.”

“Prego.” His head gives a little bow.

My phone rings. I don’t want to stop talking to Gianfranco, but it might be Floriana. “Excuse me, I must take this.”

He motions with both of his hands. “Sure.”

I reach into my purse and grab my phone. Sure enough, it’s her. I tuck the phone into my ear, turning away from him. “Pronto, Floriana. How are you?”

She sounds down.

I waste no time in telling her I need her, if, of course, she’ll still work for me. I listen closely to see if that will brighten her spirits, but I have trouble hearing her over the sounds of the busy street. I just come right out and apologize, remembering how devastated she was when I told her I was letting her go.

There’s a gentle tap on my shoulder while I’m listening carefully with my phone cupped over my ear. I turn. It’s Gianfranco.

“I will see you later,” he says with a passionate glance into my eyes and a quick wave.

I cover my phone. “Oh, okay. Right. Thank you, thank you.”

I watch him slowly disappear into the passing crowd, my mind fogged by his leaving.

“Hello, hello?” I hear Floriana on my phone.

“Yes?” I can’t remember what she just said. I decide to cut right to the chase. “Will you come back tomorrow morning?”

She asks me to hold.

I stand on my tiptoes, scanning the length of the street to catch another glimpse of Gianfranco.

Floriana returns. “Yes, yes. I will come tomorrow. Same time?”

“Oh yes, please. The same time.”

“Arrivederci,” she says.