Unwanted Stars (11 page)

"I know, but...honey, please go. It's been so long."

"When this tour ends, I promise. Seriously."

"I trust you."

"How
is
Gemma doing?" I asked in my best British accent.

"Your grandmother is just fine. Up to her old tricks," she said with a laugh. "She has her book club and now she's volunteering at a winery."

"She keeps busy. That's important."

"I agree. Give her a kiss for me when you go, all right?" She paused. "I miss my mum."

"Will do. I really should go though. I have to meet the tour group for dinner in ten."

"Oh wow, alright, honey. You take care now. Be safe."

"You got it. Love you."

The musky scent of cologne filled the hotel lobby. Our tour members were freshly showered and ready for dinner at
Ditirambo
, a small restaurant with beamed ceilings and stone arches. Every time we visit Rome, Jordan Tours rents the tiny restaurant so that our tour members can have one private dinner just for them in an authentic Italian restaurant. The owners of
Ditirambo
were thrilled to get this kind of business for their small, family-owned establishment. And Anabelle said the food was divine.

When we walked through the doors of the the bleak and almost dark restaurant, our tour members looked confused.

"Don't judge a book," Anabelle warned. "Some of the best food in Rome is in little places like this."

She then walked up to the owner, giving kisses on each of his cheeks. "Bueno Sera, Signore."

He nodded with a large smile.

"Benvenuto," he said welcoming us. "Si prega di avere un seggio."

"Have a seat, everyone," Anabelle said with a smile, translating with ease.

"Si, si," the owner said. "Ah, forgive, please. My English is not so good. But I try."

Members of the tour nodded and smiled at the tall man with salt and pepper hair. His skin was tan, his posture bent slightly at the waist. Something told me he was used to standing over a counter, rolling dough, creating delectable dishes filled with garlic and oregano. The restaurant may have looked bleak, but the smells coming from the kitchen were absolutely mouthwatering.

Everyone sat down and peered at the special menu arranged by the tour company. I literally started to drool as I read the dishes: cheese fondue with crisp potatoes and black truffles to start, cacio e pepe (a dense pasta with pecorino sheep cheese and black pepper) to follow. Then our choice of a seafood medley or steak with vegetables.

Waiters entered the small room, each carrying several bottles of red and white wines. They served each patron and the alcohol began to flow. Conversation was boisterous, and though it was torturous being three tables away from Campbell, I was enjoying the company of the South African tour members at my table.

Each dish was more enticing than the one before, and soon our bellies were filled with amazing potatoes and pasta. I wasn't sure I could handle the steak placed in front of me but knew I'd somehow manage to push through. It smelled too wonderful to pass up. Plus, we'd been walking so much these past few weeks, my khaki shorts were starting to hang on my already pathetic hips. Knowing I wasn't a huge fan of British food, I figured I should get my fill while we were still in Italy before returning back to the UK in just over a week.

The slam of forks hitting a plate startled Anabelle and me. Two tables away, Brianne, a young American was clutching her throat. Her cheeks reddened and her friend Holly spilled her wine glass in panic before digging through Brianne's shoulder bag.

"I can't find it, Bri—"

"What's going on?" Anabelle asked, standing up and walking toward the two girls who couldn't be much older than our minimum age of eighteen.

"I-I can't find her EpiPen. She's reacting to something."

Brianne clutched her neck as she attempted to inhale, but the whistling sound projecting from her mouth told us that not much air was getting through. Her cheeks were not only red in color, but they were swelling to an atrocious size.

"What is she allergic to?" Campbell asked. I hadn't even noticed that he was at Brianne's feet immediately.

"Shellfish...and, um, certain kinds of nuts. But I don't know, I don't know what she ate," Holly said, looking into Brianne's eyes, searching for an answer.

"Relax, I'm a doctor. We'll figure this out," Campbell said.

Wait...what?

He's a doctor?

Hold. The. Phone.

My mouth dropped as I stared in awe at Campbell, who was calm and collected even as Brianne's cheeks grew and looked terribly painful.

"Anabelle, do you have a spare EpiPen for the tour?"

"I-I don't think so. That's not standard—"

"That's all right." He stood, holding his hand out to her in an attempt to lessen the panic before turning back to the kitchen, "Signore, per favore!”

The owner of the restaurant entered, took one look at Brianne, and turned pale.

Campbell attempted to calm him as well. "Signore, si prega di chiamare un ambulanza."

An ambulance, of course. Brianne needed treatment. Immediately.

"Si, si," the owner said as he jogged back to the kitchen.

"Brianne, stay with me, love. You're going to be okay," Campbell said, clamping two fingers at the base of her wrist to get her pulse.

"I found it!" Holly said, raising the small EpiPen above her head. Relief and excitement filled her young face.

"Good, good," Campbell said, extending his hand to retrieve the small tube from Holly. Brianne's breathing was labored as she struggled to inhale, and her skin was glossy from sweat.

"Do your best to relax. I'm going to inject this into your thigh. Are you ready?"

Brianne nodded her head quickly, tears streaming from her eyes and rolling down her puffed cheeks.

Campbell injected Brianne with the bright blue EpiPen. She grimaced as the needle punctured her skin.

"Shhh, shhh," Campbell said, his voice deep and soothing. Brianne nodded, her wheezing beginning to subside. He took her pulse once again, giving her a thumbs up.

"Your pulse is returning to a normal rate. This is good. An ambulance should be here soon."

"Why does she need—" Holly started.

"It's just a precaution. They'll examine her at the hospital and give her an all clear. I can't do that here."

Brianne nodded, tears streaming down her face once again.

"You're a good friend," he said to Holly, patting her on the shoulder. She swallowed hard, her eyes welling with tears.

"No." She shook her head, "I-I couldn't find it. I almost didn't find it at all."

"But you did. And you took care of her. That's what matters. Focus on that."

Holly nodded. Brianne took her hand and squeezed it, mouthing the words, "Thank you."

The two girls hugged just as the ambulance approached the restaurant.

"I need to go with them," Anabelle said matter-of-factly, passing me her clipboard. "Can you take over the group?"

"Sure, yeah. Don't worry," I replied, glancing at Campbell, who had his arm around Brianne and was guiding her to the ambulance. Anabelle followed them to the vehicle and watched as Campbell spoke to the EMTs, telling them everything in fluent Italian.

Holy crap. A doctor who spoke fluent Italian. What else didn't I know about this man?

Part of me was intrigued beyond belief, the other part skeptical and intimidated. Not only was this man older than me, he was established in a career he excelled in. Just watching him with Brianne made me shudder in disbelief. He cared for her with ease and calm, never panicking or faltering in treating her. His Italian was flawless and I wondered if he spoke any other languages.

Several minutes later, the group had settled back into dinner, although our boisterous tour members had become a little more subdued. They were being respectful to what had taken place and I appreciated that.

After dinner, people quietly made their way to the bus that would bring us back to our hotel. Some stayed behind to find bars, others were ready to call it a night. I was one of those people. Watching Brianne have her allergic reaction, knowing her life was in danger and there was nothing I could do about it, scared me. Campbell wouldn't be on every tour I led. Would I have been able to handle this as gracefully as Anabelle had? Something in the pit of my stomach answered with a resounding no.

The bus pulled up to the hotel and the few people who returned with me said their goodnights, heading to their rooms. Almost in a daze, I walked slowly through the lobby. A warm hand took mine, which startled me at first and I pulled away. Campbell's eyes widened in surprise at my reaction.

"Auden?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm a little out of it."

"I see that. She's going to be okay, ya know."

"Yeah, I-I know. It just...it scared me. I'm only with Anabelle until the end of this tour. If she gives me the go-ahead, I'll be on my own. What if this happens again?"

"Listen," he said, running his fingers through his hair. He was tired; I could see the circles that were threatening to form under his eyes. "The chances of that are slim, but it could happen. Talk to your boss. Maybe they can supply you with EpiPens."

"Yeah, I guess." My brow furrowed as I pondered how to ask him the question weighing heavily on my mind.

"What is it?" he said as if he'd jumped into my mind once again, reading my thoughts, reading my heart. I avoided the actual question on my mind and let smartass Auden out for a bit.

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"Pediatrician," he said with a smile.

"Oh for God's sake," I said, hands on my hips.

"What?"

"A doctor of
children
is a damn near perfect thing to be. What else am I going to find out? That you worked with AIDS patients in Africa? That you fixed cleft palates in India?"

He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "I did just return from Somalia. I was helping with a clinic down there. Is that a problem?"

"Smartass."

"I'm completely serious, you nutter."

"Shut up," I said, aghast. "Are you a friggin Saint? Saint Hutchins? Wait, no, it's
Doctor
Saint Hutchins, right?"

"I prefer Saint Hutch," he said with a smile. I glared at him in return. "Let's go for a walk. You obviously have a lot on your mind."

"Nah.” I shook my head. "I think I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Talk to me," he whispered, dropping his arms and taking my hand in his, squeezing gently.

"Fine, whatever. Let's walk."

The light of the moon was calming and my heels clicked on the cobblestone sidewalk. Remembering that Anabelle could return from the hospital at any minute, I dropped Campbell's hand. He let out a sigh, but I didn't have the energy to fight with him about it. My job was on the line. Every. Single. Day.

"Nine more days," I said.

"Of the tour?"

I nodded.

"But you'll be in London, right? Your flat, it's there?"

"Yes," I said.

"So why are you upset? I live in London as well."

"We've been on this tour for weeks. And I realized tonight that I know nothing about you."

"That's not true. You know where I grew up and that I live in London." He paused. "You know I'm crazy about you."

"And now I know you're a pediatrician and you speak perfect Italian."

"Those don't exactly sound like deal-breakers, Auden."

I bit down on my bottom lip, unsure of what to say. I had a history of self sabotage. I was always the girl who broke up with guys before they had a chance to break up with me. I'd get insecure and find a reason to get pissy—to turn things around on them until they got so irritated they'd dump me. Then I'd cry to Hadley about how men just didn't get me. But really, the problem was I understood them well—or at least I
thought
I did. I didn't want to be a saboteur with Campbell, but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen.

"You're a doctor. I'm a tour guide. Somehow it doesn't seem like the best match."

"I love that you're a tour guide. You're adventurous, spontaneous...everything I'm not."

"I know, but—"