If I had any lingering doubts that I had ruined everything (and yes, I admit, after the intense, and slightly awkward, conversation Mario and I had that Sunday, I mentally prepared myself for the possibility of no letter the next morning) Mario quickly dispelled them with one single line:
Per i voli che mi portano da te…
(For the flights that will bring me to you…)
Mario was offering to come visit.
It was couched in a lot of “maybe’s” and “possibly’s” but the idea that had been hinted at on Sunday was turning into a full-fledged possibility. Mario had to see if he could work things out with his business, but since traditionally the entire country of Italy went on vacation in August, he thought that it just might be feasible.
Just over two months away.
This was getting crazier by the day.