Letters to the Baumgarters by Selena Kitt

take you home.” Nico offered.
    “In the gondola?’ Mason snorted.
    Nico swiped his hand under his chin at Mason, the Italian equivalent to
giving him the middle finger. “V affanculo !”
    Mason didn’t need an English to Italian dictionary to interpret what he
meant.
    “I’ll walk,” I said, heading for the door. “The fresh air will do me
good.”
    “I’ll see you tonight,” Mason called. “Pick you up at seven?”
    I didn’t answer him. My flat was half a mile away, and it was good to be
out in the fresh air. I gulped it down, trying to clear my head. Days like
today, I was ready to tell both men to go jump in the Grand Canal and be done
with it. Of course, when it came down to it, this thing was my own fault. If I would
just make a decision, they would stop trying to compete with each other, right?
So what was wrong with me?
    I still couldn’t believe the two of them had decided to room together. It
made me wonder what they were up to. It was the last thing I’d expected, after
my confession to first Nico and then Mason, that I was seeing them both. Part
of me had expected Nico to end things, and Mason to turn around and head back
to the states, but neither of those things had happened.
    Jezebel mewed at the door when I opened it, demanding to be fed. I filled
her bowl, glancing at the books on my little kitchen table. I’d been too
distracted lately, first Nico and now Mason, neglecting my studies. I should
have cracked the books but instead I poured myself a glass of wine and took it
to the sofa, sitting and sipping and listening to Jezebel eat.
    I couldn’t get either man out of my head, and now I couldn’t separate
them either. When I closed my eyes and imagined them, their hands and mouths
and voices melded in my mind. The wine, of course, wasn’t helping. It made
everything fuzzy around the edges. Jezebel joined me on the couch, kneading my
thigh with her paws before settling next to me with a large yawn.
    The knock on my door startled us both, and Jezebel followed me, just as
curious as I was who might be calling. Cara Lucia stood there in the entrance,
frowning, her gray hair covered, as usual, under a dark-colored scarf. She
remained in mourning for her husband, who made it through WWII in one piece
only to die twenty years later from delayed effects of nerve gas. 
    “Here.” She spoke English, handing me a sheet of paper, and my heart
dropped to my toes. Had someone seen Mason here and said something? Was I being
evicted? “No more visitors in the room. Capice?”
    Sure enough, it was a warning about having Mason over. Someone must have
seen him coming or going. I cringed, folding the paper and putting it into my
back pocket, already apologizing, but she waved my excuses away.
    “I can’t have different rules for different tenants.” She was back to
speaking Italian again. “I’m sorry.”
    “I understand.” Of course I did. But I also knew she must be angry with
me. I hadn’t been to lunch with her since I started dating Nico. “I promise, no
more.”
    “So this Mason, he’s come for you?”
    “I’m not sure why he’s come.” I nudged Jezebel back in. Thankfully the
rules about pets were far more lax than her rules about men.
    Cara Lucia smiled knowingly. “And what about this other one? The
dark-haired Italian boy?”
    Who did I think I was kidding? She didn’t miss anything.
    “We’re...” What were we exactly? “We’re working things out.”
    “Well don’t take too long.”
    I frowned. “What does that mean?”
    “You want a marriage. Babies. You’re not getting younger, you know.”
    I jutted my chin out. “How do you know I want that?”
    “You do.” She scoffed. “The way you covet your friend’s baby? Look at the
pictures you have of her. You want what she has. I know you do.”
    I swallowed, thinking about Carrie and Doc and their little Janie. Did I
want what they had? Some part of me did. And another part of me was scared to
death of it. Some