THE BOY ACROSS THE ROAD

EPISODE 5

A Taste of Sweetness

Alessandro escaped the dining room the moment he could. The clink of silver and the last ripples of laughter stayed behind, but the embarrassment came with him, hot under his collar. He walked past family portraits and polished vases, wondering how a single dropped spoon could make him feel so small.

Sunlight spilled through the glass doors at the end of the hall. Beyond them, the side gardens shimmered with early-summer green roses, clipped hedges, and cypress shadows laid like cool stripes over the path. Alessandro stopped with his hand on the handle, breathing in the faint scent of flowers through the seam of the door.

“Alessandro,” Marco said quietly.

Alessandro kept his eyes forward. “I’m fine.”

Marco came up beside him. He didn’t touch Alessandro, but his presence was steady, like a wall at his back. “Elena wanted a reaction,” Marco said. “Don’t give her another one.”

Alessandro’s stomach tightened. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You looked happy,” Marco replied, so softly it almost sounded like an apology. “That’s enough for her to notice.”

Alessandro opened the door and stepped into warmth. Birds sang above the fountain’s steady splash. He and Marco followed the hedge line toward the estate wall where the road cut between their world and De Lucas’.

Across the street, Isabella was on the lawn with Bruno, her laughter bright as the wind chimed. Bruno rolled onto his back, paws in the air, completely shameless. Alessandro smiled before he could stop himself.

Isabella looked up and waved. “Bioregion!”

“Bioregion,” Alessandro called back, his voice quieter than hers.

Bruno barked, tail thumping. Marco leaned slightly toward Alessandro. “He’s voting yes.”

Isabella clipped Bruno’s leash on and hurried to her gate. “We’re going to the café for cornetti,” she said. “Do you want to come?”

Alessandro hesitated, the familiar reflex to check rules he never fully understood. He glanced at Marco.

Marco nodded once. “If Lorenzo’s okay with it.”

“As if he wouldn’t be,” Isabella said, and called, “Papa!”

Lorenzo De Luca appeared a moment later, sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy in a way that made him look human instead of perfect. When he saw the brothers, his smile came easily. “Good morning,” Lorenzo said. “Come with us. You’ll save me from Bruno’s impatience.”

“Thank you,” Alessandro managed.

Lorenzo’s gaze warmed. “You’re welcome. And it’s Lorenzo.”

They met at the sidewalk and started down the quiet street together. Milan was waking in layers: a scooter buzzing past, shutters opening, a tram bell in the distance. The air smelled like jasmine from the balcony and fresh bread drifting from somewhere unseen.

Isabella walked beside Alessandro as if she’d always done it. She didn’t flood him with questions. She simply kept pace, occasionally pointing out something small: an orange cat on a windowsill, a bouquet of peonies outside a florist, as like she was teaching him how to notice the world.

“You left breakfast early,” she said after a while, gently.

Alessandro looked at the stones under his feet. “I was distracted.”

Isabella accepted that with a nod. “I get distracted too,” she said. “Sometimes I stare at the sky and forget what I’m supposed to say.”

Alessandro glanced at her. “And no one gets angry?”

She smiled, almost puzzled by the question. “Why would they?”

The café on the corner wore a striped awning and smelled of espresso and sugar. Lorenzo greeted the barista by name, and the barista greeted Isabella like family. Alessandro noticed the way Lorenzo listened as well as he spoke, as if people were worth their time.

They sat outside under a plane tree. Lorenzo ordered a plate of cornetti apricot, cream, chocolate and hot chocolate for Marco and Alessandro without asking if they were allowed. The assumption alone felt like kindness.

“So,” Lorenzo said, pouring water, “how is school?”

Marco answered easily. Isabella chimed in with a complaint about a teacher. Lorenzo laughed, and the sound made Alessandro’s chest ache, not exactly with pain, but more with longing.

When Lorenzo turned to Alessandro, it wasn’t to test him. “And you, Alessandro? What do you like?”

Alessandro blinked. No one at home asked that question unless they already knew the acceptable answer. “I… I like drawing,” he said, surprised by his own honesty.

Isabella brightened. “You never told me!”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Alessandro admitted.

“It matters,” Isabella said, as if correcting a simple fact. She nudged his sleeve lightly. “Draw Bruno sometime. He’d love it.”

Bruno chose that moment to rest his head on Isabella’s shoe, eyes hopeful for crumbs. Lorenzo chuckled. “He loves everything that involves attention.”

Isabella tore off a tiny piece of pastry and offered it to the dog. “Only one,” she warned.

Marco watched Alessandro over his cup. “You look different,” Marco said quietly, so only Alessandro could hear.

Alessandro’s cheeks warmed. “Different how?”

“Lighter,” Marco said. Then, after a beat, “I like it.”

Alessandro didn’t know what to do with that except hold it carefully.

They stayed at the café longer than Alessandro expected, letting the morning stretch into afternoon. When they finally stood, the sun had shifted and the street felt softer, as if the city had exhaled.

Lorenzo suggested a short walk through the nearby park before heading back. Children ran between benches, and water sparkled in the fountain. Isabella kept a slow pace for Bruno, who was already tired from excitement.

Isabella stopped at a stone wall and pulled a small notebook from her bag. “Show me,” she said, holding it out with a pencil. Alessandro hesitated, then drew Bruno’s face from memory: floppy ears, earnest eyes, tongue slightly out. The lines came fast, like he’d been saving them. Isabella watched in silence, then let out a delighted breath. “He looks like he’s about to steal a cornetto,” she whispered. Lorenzo leaned over to see and gave Alessandro a proud nod. Even Marco smiled. Alessandro tucked the notebook back into her hand, laughing under his breath, surprised again.

Marco fell into step with Alessandro. “Are you okay?” Marco asked.

Alessandro nodded, then admitted, “I didn’t know days could feel like they’re… mine.”

Marco’s shoulder brushed his. “They can be,” Marco said. “We’ll make sure of it.”

By late afternoon the light turned honey-gold. Lorenzo walked them back to the gates and pressed a small paper bag of leftover cornetti into Marco’s hand. “For later,” he said, then looked at Alessandro. “And for tomorrow, if you want. You’re welcome with us any time.”

Isabella slowed at the boundary, suddenly shy. “Tomorrow?” she asked.

Alessandro’s heart lifted cleanly. “Tomorrow,” he promised.

Back on the Moretti path, the air seemed cooler. The villa rose ahead, pale and perfect, its windows reflecting the sun without letting any of it inside. In one room, Alessandro saw Chiara and Leonardo arguing over a screen while little Sofia tried to climb onto a chair. A nanny hushed them the instant a door closed upstairs.

Marco held the pastry bag like contraband. “You smiled today,” he murmured. “A lot.”

Alessandro stared at the bag as if it proved the whole day wasn’t a dream. “It was easy,” he whispered.

“Keep it,” Marco said. “Don’t let them take it.”

They stepped into the entrance hall and stopped.

Elena stood on the landing above, hands resting lightly on the railing, as composed as a statue. Her smile was soft enough to seem kind. Her eyes were fixed on Alessandro.

“Good afternoon,” Elena said. “I heard you spent the day with De Lucas.”

Alessandro felt the park’s warmth slide away from his skin. “Yes,” he said. “Lorenzo invited us.”

Elena nodded, as if confirming something she’d already decided. “How lovely.” She paused, just long enough for the pause to feel deliberate. “After dinner, Alessandro, came to my study. We should talk about your… attachments.”

The word sounded gentle.

It didn’t feel gentle at all.