Le Logge del Vignola restaurant was insanely busy. Mariano explained he knew the owner, and whenever he dined there, he got the best table. Perks of the oil business, I guessed.
“I noticed you were packing this morning.” Mariano leaned back as the waiter poured his wine. I couldn’t help but notice the waiter seemed a little nervous. “What’s with the bags?”
“Well, um,” I fumbled on my words, “I figured since I’m not writing your story, I should get back to my life and my job.”
“Oh.” He checked his phone that was glued to his hand then rubbed his chin. “But can’t you do your job from anywhere?”
“Yes, but I don’t have a story that keeps me here, and you’ve been kind enough letting me stay with you, but—”
“What if I gave you one?” he interrupted.
“Mariano, I don’t want to step—”
“Not my
