She called three days later.
Aria was under a car when her phone rang — the personal one, not the untraceable one — and she almost did not answer it because she was in the middle of something that required both hands and full attention and unknown numbers were rarely worth either.
She answered anyway.
Aria. It is Valentina Greco. I got your number from Matteo. I hope you don't mind.
She minded.
She said — of course not.
I am having lunch with some friends on Thursday, Valentina said warmly. I would love for you to join us. I feel like we barely had a chance to talk the other night.
Aria lay under the car and looked at the undercarriage and thought about the specific quality of Valentina's smile at the rooftop event. The warmth that was not warm. The eyes that had recalibrated.
She
