Becca.

After gelato, James escorted us to a nice study lined with books and scattered with comfortable furniture. James poured us some after-dinner drinks—grappa—and we sat on two sofas, James next to me, Sofia across on another loveseat.

“Are you ready to get up and do all of this again tomorrow?” Sofia asked, winking at us. “There’s a wake at the Cathedral before mass, is there not?”

I groaned and leaned my head against James’s shoulder. ...