Chapter 28 Teo
twenty-eight
Teo
Iloved seeing her like this... carefree and just enjoying life.
Her hands moved animatedly as she tried to talk to an older woman with kind eyes and silver hair pulled back in a neat bun.
She was a vendor at the local market selling custom-made linen.
Even though the language barrier prevented them from exchanging words smoothly, the vendor was just as captivated by Yanna as I was.
“Uhhh... lino? No... umm... il blu? Light blue... soft for bed, yes?” Yanna held up her fingers, trying to show the texture she wanted, her face scrunched in concentration.
The vendor laughed warmly and corrected her gently. “Lino azzurro, bella. Come questo.” She held up a piece of soft blue linen, running Ayanna’s fingers across the fabric.
“Si! Lino azzurro!” Ayanna repeated, grinning like she’d just mastered the language.
Her accent was nowhere close to being good, but she was trying, and was also cute while doing it.
I couldn’t wait to help her with the language, because one day when I told her how much I loved her or whispered something reckless in her ear, the blush that flooded her cheeks would come from her actually understanding every word.
The older woman clearly thought she was adorable too, since she patted Yanna’s hand and smiled kindly, continuing their little back and forth. This allowed me time to focus back on the man selling flowers right in front of me.
“Le peonie,” I told the merchant, pointing to a small bunch of soft pink petals that reminded me of her wedding bouquet. He nodded, carefully wrapping them in brown paper with a twine bow. After paying, I walked back to Yanna, holding the flowers out without a word.
She looked up, her eyes lighting up the moment they landed on what was in my hand. “Peonies?” she gushed, setting down the fabric and taking the flowers from my hand. She buried her nose in the soft petals, inhaling deeply with a blissful smile. “They smell amazing.”
“Not half as amazing as you,” I grinned, watching the way her eyes sparkled behind her bright white frames when she smiled back at me.
She looked so damn happy standing there with those flowers, and all of her trinkets we’d picked up at the market this evening.
It was a stark difference from how she had been just two weeks ago when we arrived.
Now that our time in Italy was winding down, I wanted her to feel as much at ease as possible, soaking in every moment of our time together.
This trip was about more than just seeing the sights; it was about healing, and peace.
My world was chaotic, and she had been tossed into the middle of it all without warning.
And then it all went to shit. Though our union was necessary, I never wanted her stressed.
And getting hurt was never an option. Yet, it happened.
She needed this escape, and so did I.
“You ’bout ready to head back to the villa?” I asked, already reaching for the linen bundle she’d set down, collecting her purchases so her hands would be free for the flowers.
While most of her bruising was gone, there was still slight discomfort lingering near her hip. She would never mention it, but I could see the way she still favored her left side, being careful with each step.
She shifted her weight slightly, adjusting the flowers in her hand while glancing around the market. “After we stop by there.”
Her finger extended toward what looked like a local specialty shop. I followed her gaze, taking in the warm wooden sign hanging slightly crooked above the door where baskets full of handcrafted lotions and bath salts were stacked along the entrance.
I smiled, then nodded. “Lead the way.” I shifted the bags to my other arm, keeping one hand free so I could take hers and thread my fingers through.
After tossing a quick thank you over her shoulder to the older lady, we made our way down the cobblestone roads and to the rustic shop.
The path took us through the narrow streets that were busy, filled with locals and some tourists exploring the colorful stalls, and fresh produce stands.
Freshly baked bread, and cookies filled the air while we walked hand in hand across the short walkway.
Yanna looked around, letting out a satisfied sigh before turning her gaze towards me.
Her expression was curious when she asked, “How come I didn’t know you visited Italy so often? I mean, obviously I knew you were half Italian. So, I shouldn’t be surprised, but I kind of am.”
My eyebrows raised, a little surprised by her question. I suppose I always assumed she knew how often my family traveled back home. It never crossed my mind to talk about my time spent with relatives she didn’t know.
“I guess I always thought you knew. But when we were kids, I was too busy trying to get your attention to talk about my family in Italy.” I chuckled, thinking about twelve-year-old me harassing a young Yanna because I thought she was so pretty.
It was kid shit.
By the time puberty hit and the trips actually started meaning something to me, I was even more smitten with her.
Yeah, Italy and family were important, but so were girls, and by that time, making a name for myself.
My priorities back then didn’t include sharing stories about my heritage.
Becoming the Teo Donatelli and impressing girls —especially her — were all I could think about.
She laughed, squeezing my hand. “Right... because you were too busy finding ways to annoy me.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Annoy?”
“Yes, Teo, annoy. You were a little terror,” she giggled with that playful glint in her eyes. “But, I’ll admit… I liked it. You were cute.” She shrugged and the corners of my lips twitched.
“Anyway,” I said as we approached the rustic shop.
“We would visit here about two or three times a year. Sometimes with my grandparents, others with just me and my parents. They were big on me learning where we came from, learning the language, and the culture. Eventually, I started coming on my own. Bought a small villa where I can escape. And you know…”
“That makes sense. Your family’s always been big on tradition.”
“This town especially.” I gestured around us as we paused outside the shop. “It’s small, family-oriented. Here, we’re just... us. Not the big bad Donatelli organization. Just people.” I paused. “That’s what I want for our kids too, knowing both sides — your roots and mine.”
She stopped walking completely, turning to look directly at me. “Our kids,” she repeated quietly, like she was testing how the words sounded.
“Yeah,” I said, stepping closer. “Is that something you want?”
Her eyes searched mine for a long moment. It wasn’t something we’ve discussed, but I knew her stance on children. She wanted them. I just hoped she wanted them with me.
“We can have that?”
“With me, you can have everything, Amore.”
Her smile was soft, almost shy when she nodded. “I want babies that look like you. That have your eyes.” She paused. “I want everything with you.”
Those words settled somewhere deep in my chest. We stood there for a beat, just looking at each other, before I opened the shop door.
Strong gusts of lavender and rosemary greeted us as we stepped inside, the soothing scents filling our lungs.
“It smells fantastic in here.” Yanna closed her eyes momentarily, breathing in the blend of herbs and oils before scanning the shop with obvious enthusiasm. “Back here. Come on.”
Without waiting for a response, she pulled me deeper into the shop picking up bath soaps, salts, and oils along the way. Once we made it to the shelf with the candles, she picked one up and brought it to her nose.
“Ohh... this one smells like the ocean.” She inhaled again, before shoving it playfully under my nose. “Right?”
I agreed, catching the fresh, salty scent that instantly reminded me of my family summer getaways.
“You know what would be perfect?”
My eyebrows arched. “What’s that?”
“A small self-care section in the boutique; both of them, for my stressed out brides? These scents, and lotions or something like it would be perfect.”
Her gaze shifted around the entire shop, taking notes of all of the items that could help create a calming oasis back home.
“Yeah, I’m thinking a dedicated spot for candles, bath salts, and calming teas,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with inspiration. “It could really make a difference for brides who need a moment of peace before their big day.”
“You’re right.”
I could see the wheels turning in her head, and if it made her happy and helped her business, I was all for it.
The fact that she was back thinking about her brides and her business was a sign that she was about ready to get back into reality.
Before the kidnaping, it had been weeks since she’d seen the inside of her Atlanta boutique.
And she hadn’t had time to open her Manhattan store.
Before shit went way left, she was itching to get back into the groove of things.
It felt good to see that spark that had been missing for the past few weeks come back in her eyes.
“You wanna find a supplier here? Or wait til’ we’re back home?” I asked while I continued to browse.
“Maybe a few items from here and then a black supplier. You know I love supporting us,” she glanced back at me with a wide grin.
“Then that’s what we’ll do when we get back to the States. Find you a beauty supplier.”
As we continued browsing, she was already three bottles deep into smelling another one of the lotions displayed on the shelves, lifting each one to her nose before squinting at the small Italian labels.
“What’s this one say, baby?” She held up a dark amber bottle.
“Olio di mandorle dolci,” I read over her shoulder. “Sweet almond oil.”
“Mmm, I like this?” She closed the top and set it down with the growing collection of things I would gladly purchase for her at her feet.