“Is that true?” I asked, flipping through an Italian gossip magazine that I’d made Marcello buy me when we stopped for groceries. He laughed, pulling it from my hands and tossing it onto the counter. “I don’t know. I don’t care.” “Sure you do, she’s hot. He’s hot. They’re stiflingly hot together. They could be here right now. Maybe next door. We can borrow sugar from them,” I teased, stepping over to the wide kitchen window to peer outside. The house was literally on the lake. Or LAKE, as I was ...calling it in my head. Everything about Lake Como was amplified. Italy by default was gorgeous, but Lake Como was Italy 5.0 and that wasn’t just because we may or may not run into (become best friends with) George Clooney. It was something magical. Something out of a fairy tale with stone villas blanketed in flowers and the shimmering water surrounding you. The crisp air ignited every sense in my body and commanded attention. I was lost in my daydream about potential Hollywood neighbors when Marcello came up behind me at the counter.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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