Italian Folly: (A Kissed in Italy Mystery Book 2 - Prologue to Sweet Delicious Madness and the Hordes of Lidias)

Lily Bilbury is a women with a pending divorce, a normal-as-can-be job with no mysteries, and a burgeoning romance. Or is she? In three months of madness everything changes.

Chapter 1

THE DAY STARTED innocently enough. I had new tires installed on my red Fiat Panda, but on the way home from work, as I drove along state highway 33 that skirts the coast of Lago Maggiore, two of them came right off the car. That was my first sign that it was going to be an awful day. The second sign that it was going to be an awful dark day came as I was sitting by the side of the road in despair texting my good friend, Rupa Brunetti:

OMG! I was flying down the highway, going so fast that my tits flew off. So scary! Uncle Tomasso is here now, helping me.

Although Rupa thought the spellcheck failure that changed tires to tits was hysterical, as far as I was concerned the day was only growing more awful. The boys accidentally stuck gum in my hair and the bottom dropped out of my sack of groceries as I was carrying it from the little produce store on the corner of Piazza della Republica to my apartment. Now, several hours after the tire incident, I stand on the front steps of Enrico's doorstep having an unbelievable argument and realizing that my whole day is not only awful, it is shot to hell.
“What do you mean you never filed the papers?” I scratch my face with one hand while balancing a large basket of lilies in the other.
“I haven’t had time,” he states smoothly.
“WHAT?”
“I haven’t had time. I work every day. And on the weekends, I watch the boys. I don’t get to laze about like you do on Sundays.”
My God, this man is in such denial. There are so many issues stirred up by his little “I haven’t had time” speech that I don’t even know where to begin. I scratch at my legs. It’s warm out, a beautiful Indian summer day, but my internal temp must be a raging 195 degrees Fahrenheit.
I glance over at our children who are watching from the car, noting the rising intensity in our voices. They look back at me apprehensively. I swear, if they weren’t here watching this whole scene unfold, I would get into my car and drive right through Enrico’s house. In my anger, I have a vision of chasing him from room to room in my red Fiat Panda. Because the thing is, my dear soon-to-be-ex-husband Enrico Bettonina never bothered to turn in the divorce papers I signed a month ago. The divorce papers I have been waiting on for FOUR VERY LONG YEARS.
I glance at my kids again. From the back seat of the Panda, they flash nervous smiles. Will mommy kill daddy? I smile back at them and scratch. I have always tried to be quiet and respectful about Enrico’s role as their father, despite the fact that he shattered our marriage four years ago when I caught him cheating with his current girlfriend Frederica. That is a long and sordid story, and I have moved on.
I have a new boyfriend. I do. Oh, we haven’t officially had a date or anything, but, if I may say so, I believe we are falling madly in love in our long distance relationship. Our constant phone chats last month put me on such a high. They left me feeling all warm and wonderful. In fact, I feel so warm and wonderful that I liken our relationship to that of world famous lovers such as Queen Victoria and Albert, or Napoleon and Josephine, or even, dare I say, Brad and Angelina.
Although to be truthful, the phone calls and one small kiss at my children’s birthday party last month have been the extent of our relationship. But, eventually, we’ll get to the status of Albert and Victoria. I am sure.
“Look, you son of a buona notte,” I say, followed by a series of unpleasantries in Italian, even though I have a smile plastered on my face for the benefit of my children. “If you don’t file those papers right now I will…”
“You will what, Lily?” Enrico smirks.
“I will get a lawyer and sue you for divorce!”
He smirks all the more. “That’s the trouble with you, Lily; you’re so American, (TO READ MORE DOWNLOAD TH