Virginoff Nutella With Boyfriend -

“It’s gone,” she whispered.

“I knew,” Matteo said, his voice rough, “that if I opened it without you, it would just be Nutella. And if I threw it away, we’d be over for real. So I left it here. With the dead saints.”

They finished the jar in twenty minutes, sitting on the cold stone floor, licking their fingers, saying nothing. Virginoff Nutella With Boyfriend

But because she tasted it with him, because his finger brushed hers inside the jar, because the little chapel’s lone window let in a shaft of October light that turned the dust motes into falling stars—because of all that, it was the most perfect thing she had ever tasted.

She was nineteen, a study-abroad student drowning in Dante and homesickness. He was Matteo, the deli owner’s son, who smelled of espresso and old paper. When she pointed at the jar, he smiled—a slow, knowing smile that she would later learn was the official expression of all Genoese secrets. “It’s gone,” she whispered

She laughed. That was the beginning.

It’s deciding to stay.

Lena didn’t believe him. “Three jars in the whole world?”