Hot Christmas Nights: Tuscan Nights / Christmas Tango / Tied Up in Tinsel

His fingers clenched the sides of the marble table. He hated that they were back here, tiptoeing around each other. There was a time, only a few years ago, when she had been his best friend. How could one kiss change everything?

But it had. And if he wasn’t careful, he would scare her away again. He wasn’t willing to lose any of the ground he’d made in reclaiming the friendship they once shared.

It had been hard enough to get to this point. When he finally found her on Facebook, nearly two years after she’d left Atlanta, Aiden had debated for weeks whether to make contact. She’d made herself clear when she left—she didn’t want anything to do with him.

When he finally gathered up the nerve to contact her, she ignored his friend request for six months. Six months. He’d given up hope of ever speaking to her again.

And then, one day, there she was.

He could still feel the shock and desire that gripped his chest with every breath he took as he stared at her profile picture sitting in his friends list. He spent hours scrolling along her Facebook page, going through her photos, learning everything he could about the life she’d led in the two and a half years since he’d last seen her.

Gradually, their online friendship began to resemble the real-life one they’d shared. Nyla began to leave comments here and there. Aiden found himself scouring the Web for stories he figured she would find interest in—outdoor festivals, restaurant openings—with the sole purpose of garnering her attention. That’s just how desperate he was to have her back in his life again, that he was willing to resort to high-school crush tactics.

It didn’t seem all that pathetic right now. Just look what it had gotten him. Here they were, enjoying a pastime the two of them had engaged in more times than he could count.

As Nyla transferred the rolls he’d made into the stone oven, she told him about the history of the family bakery—both the business itself and the building that housed it, which was once rumored to be a boardinghouse for ladies of ill repute.

“Everything is aboveboard these days,” she said with a laugh. “Being so close to the Piazza della Cisterna, we get heavy foot traffic, but this rare snow has kept many of the tourists inside for the last couple of days.”

“So, if the bakery is closed until after Christmas, why are we baking all this bread?” Aiden asked.

“It’s for the ‘Concert of Good Wishes’ at Sant’Agostino Church,” she answered. “It’s a huge event for the holidays. Several schools sell refreshments to benefit their music programs and Leoncini’s donates the bread to help defray the cost. Yet another reason I love San Gimignano—the locals are always willing to pitch in to help each other.”

Even though it made him feel like an ass, Aiden couldn’t help the resentment slowly building within him toward the town. With its quaint little shops and rich history, it seemed like the perfect fit for Nyla. But it was half a world away from Atlanta, which made it the exact opposite of perfect in his eyes.

“Do you think the concert will still go on, even with the heavy snow?”

“Oh, yeah,” Nyla answered. “I don’t care how much it snows, there’s going to be a crowd.” She started filling several brown paper bags with long loaves of crusty bread. Then she nodded to a spot just beyond his shoulder. “Can you hand me that box over there? We can deliver the bread once these final loaves are done, and I can give you a quick tour before we head to Rome, or Roma, as it’s known here. That is, if you’re up for another three-hour drive after that long ride in from Zurich.”

“It was my plan to continue on to Rome tonight. I already have a room booked.”

“Thank goodness, because it will be impossible to find one this close to Christmas.”

“Nearly everything was taken. That’s why the room is only for tonight and tomorrow night. I was thinking that we could see as much as we could tomorrow, and then maybe leave around noon on Christmas Eve. I can drop you back here and head back to Zurich.” He paused for a moment before adding, “That is, unless you don’t mind me hanging around until Christmas Day.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “I...I think I’d like that,” she said.

Aiden couldn’t stave off the smile that curled up the corners of his lips. “So would I.”

Nyla cleared her throat and returned to packing the breads. “So, which hotel did you book in Rome?”

“I can’t remember the name, but I know it’s in the Termini Station District.”

She looked up at him. “That’s perfect. My friend Else lives not too far from there. I can stay with her.” She tipped her head to the side and smiled. “I really am happy you invited me along. There’s something truly miraculous about Rome at Christmas.”

Aiden didn’t doubt it, but he already had his Christmas miracle. Having her there with him was the only miracle he needed.

* * *

“Are you sure you didn’t want to stay for the concert?” Aiden asked. He strolled alongside her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. They delivered the baked goods to the church, which was already filling up with both tourists and locals eager for the annual concert to begin, then took off for their walking tour of San Gimignano.

“Positive,” Nyla said. “Don’t get me wrong, I find watching a bunch of cute kids sing Christmas carols precious and all, but after about twenty minutes of standing in the cold my feet go numb. Besides, I want you to see the town.”

The snow had finally stopped falling as they traversed Via San Matteo, one of the town’s main arteries, but flakes continued to shuttle down the eaves of the shop roofs that lined the popular tourist route.

Nyla pointed to the structure at the southern edge of the narrow street. “You see that stone tower up ahead? That’s La Torre del Diavolo, the Tower of the Devil.”

“Huh, didn’t realize I’d get to see where the devil lives. I guess that’s cool, though not what I had in mind when planning my Christmas vacation.”

Nyla laughed. “Legend has it that the owner left for a trip, and when he returned, the tower had somehow grown taller. The townspeople attributed it to the devil, thus the name.”

“I think the townspeople just wanted the owner to think he was losing his mind. They probably had those bricks tucked away somewhere and started adding to the tower the minute he left.”

Nyla lolled her head to the side and released a tired sigh. “Your lack of appreciation for good folklore is such a disappointment.”

“Sorry,” he said, humor shading his voice. “I’ll try to lock away my pesky scientific side so I can be more open to your folklore and fairy tales.”

“It’s for your own good. It will make this trip much more tolerable, especially when we get to Rome with all of its ancient legends.”

“I can appreciate good history,” he said. “I hadn’t heard of San Gimignano before learning that you lived here, but I must admit I’m intrigued by these towers. The fact that they’ve survived this long and are still in such good shape is amazing,” Aiden said, his eyes focused on one of the town’s fourteen remaining medieval towers. “When you live in a country as young as the United States, it’s hard to comprehend structures that have been standing for several centuries.”

“I know,” Nyla said with a wistful sigh. “Even though I’m surrounded by it every day, it still takes my breath away.”

Aiden looked over at her and, after a moment, blew out a resigned sigh. “You really do love it here, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do.”

He dropped his head and huffed out a humorless laugh. “Shit.”

“Don’t be that way,” Nyla said. “Tuscany has been good to me. It’s been good for me. I thought moving to Paris and following one of my lifelong dreams would solve everything, but it didn’t. I was still in such a dark place. There was something about San Gimignano that made me whole again.”

Aiden stopped walking, causing her feet to halt midstroll. He took her hands in his and, with an earnestness in his voice that touched her soul, said, “As much as I hate that you had to leave in order to feel whole again, I’m happy you were able to find a place where you could be happy. Over the tens of thousands of times I’ve thought about you these past three years, the thing I’ve wished for most is that you were happy.”

His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, eliciting a measure of comfort that only Aiden had ever provided. It scared her as much as it consoled her. The feeling she experienced this very moment—the trust, the tenderness—it was the thing she feared most about being around Aiden again.

Three years ago, she’d fallen for him with amazing ease. As a result, her well-ordered life had been upended. It was only by some miracle that Aiden’s had not been destroyed, as well.

She would not be so stupid—so selfish—as to put them through that kind of turmoil again.

Two days.

She only had to get through two days. It would be a test of her will, but also a testament to how well she’d learned from her past mistakes.

They walked through the narrow arched passageway that led to the Piazza della Cisterna. Nyla gave Aiden a brief history of the triangular-shaped square.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the well in the center of the piazza.

“Probably one of the most visited sites in all of San Gimignano. For hundreds of years that well was where the town’s residents got their water.”