39. Maggie
39
maggie
The plates are vibrant and look so flipping good. I’m hungry and tear into my dish. Then I moan, and Colt clutches the table. “Woman, you can’t make sounds like that when we’re in public.”
I swallow down my pasta. “So good! I can’t help it.” This is our third lunch date. Nighttime dates are tricky. And we haven’t slept together because of freaking time restraints and the girls. And we haven’t been able to hold each other like the first night. I think he might be wooing me, but I’d rather he be woo-hooing me. Or doing anything to my hooha. I giggle at myself and he’s staring at my lips as I swallow.
“Is it wrong that I’m jealous of rigatoni?”
I lean over the table to him and kind of whisper my question, “Because I put it in my mouth?”
He says loudly, “No, because it made you sound like that. I used to own those sounds. Glad to hear they’re still around, but maybe reserve them for when I’m between those lips and not a tube of pasta.”
“Colt!”
“I’m the speaker of truth.” I quickly scan the area to make sure no one heard him.
“Speak less truth.”
“As you would say, nope.” His pink button-down is crisp and makes the green in his eyes pop. There’s a slight breeze ruffling his hair. It’s blonder from the summer or Tuscan sun. One or the other. He moves that eternally falling piece out of his face with the palm of his hand. I get lost in the minutia of him.
“Did you love him?”
I think about his question and want to answer honestly. “Occasionally.” I suck down a noodle. “I know it’s a more complicated thing but that honestly is my best answer.”
“Did you?”
“No, I did not love Kevin.” I laugh and he continues, “No. I thought I might be able to get there when Daisy was little. No matter what I did, she kept me on the outside. Not of the girls. I barreled right through any block she put in my way there. But of her or a life. She over planned our lives so I didn’t have anything but obligations. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she let me in. I can tell you now, that I never loved her.”
“Sounds lonely.” He takes my hand. I bite the inside of my lip as I think about him alone.
“It was and it wasn’t. And you?”
“Same. It was and it wasn’t. But it all pales in comparison to what could have been or what might be.”
He squeezes my hand and I fight the tears back. “I don’t want anymore talk of what could have been. Just now.” I grin and slurp up another noodle. He sits back and looks at me with a satisfied smile.
His sleeves are rolled up and his tan and muscular forearms keep distracting me.
“Are you staring at my hands?”
“No, your arm porn.”
“Okay. That’s a first.”
“Probably not. I’m just the first one to say it. Tell me, when you roll up your sleeves at a playdate or golf game, do women’s eyes drop for a fraction of a second.”
“Not sure I’ve ever noticed but maybe.” A smirk creeps on his face.
I shove a bite of pasta into mine and then say with a full mouth just to bug him, “They’re imagining your arms wrapped around them. You’ve got safety porn arms.”
“Thank you, I think.”
I tear off a piece of bread and dunk into the heavenly olive oil and shove it all into my mouth. “I’m going to gain like a hundred pounds here.”
“So?”
I grin, knowing I feel the same. It doesn’t matter what we look like or how old we look or big or small we get, it’s the heart that matters, not the package. Although I’m rather fucking fond of his hot-ass package. The boy I was in love with is still there, but the hard lines and cut jaw of the man in front of me is like my reward for waiting.
My hair ruffles around my shoulders, and I shake it back to make sure it doesn’t get in the sauce. I pull at my light green sundress to put it back in its proper place. It was bunching around my waist. I look up to find him staring at me.
“What?” I start rubbing the side of my mouth. “Do I have food on my face? Did I do something weird?”
“Shoulder porn.” I grin. He slides an envelope over to me.
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.” He waggles his eyebrows. “I got you something.”
“You already installed screens and built bat houses. And it’s been like six days since we found each other again. No gifts at this time.”
“Trust me, this is as romantic as bat houses. Is that what we’re calling this? Finding each other again? Feels more like everything else was intermission, and now we get to live our second act. Fulfilling the promise of the first.”
“That’s a lot of romance talk, Mister.”
He kisses my hand. “Get used to it.”
“Nope. Not sure I can ever get used to you being around all the time. I keep waiting for the Colonel to call and tell you that you’ve been enrolled in the space program, and you leave for Mars tomorrow.” He laughs. “For the good of the country, of course.”
His whole body shakes as he finishes laughing. Then asks, “And you have no romance talk for me?”
“I mentioned the arm porn thing.” I tear the envelope open, and it’s a business card covered with bugs and an appointment date. “What is this?”
“An exterminator.”
“No. You will not kill the things in my house.”
“They will move the stubborn ones to their low-income housing condos and remediate and clean up all the mess. You can’t be there while they do it and it’s unhealthy, Meerkat. You can’t.”
“I don’t want them to believe I’ve abandoned them.”
“They are bats. They’ll be fine. And they are kind of really gross.”
I open my hands to him, acknowledging he’s right. It kind of is.
The brightest of today’s sun trips along the backs of the café chairs across the piazza and I hear the vibrancy of this city all around. Funny, I wouldn’t call it a city back in the states or even urban. Nothing is truly urban because it’s all so ancient. The whole city is waiting for fresh eyes to take in its old stories and add their own bricks to the ongoing stories. Each layer fortifies it for the next century. If you live inside the wall, which isn’t very big, it’s almost like its own small town more than a city. Colt seems to know everyone. Enzo fixed my car the best he could while calling Colt’s and mine a matched set of garbage cars.
We eat a little, sip, and laugh a lot. I also cry as we rehash our last year in doses.
“Tell me something good. Let’s not get weighed down by the bad.”
Colt pushes his plate back a little and gestures to it. There’s a sigh in his voice as he speaks. “You don’t think the fake hunting is funny?”
“Someday maybe, but it’s too fresh.” I grin because I can’t help it. I don’t give a shit about Kevin with this man in front of me. “Fine,” I say with a giggle. “It’s funny.”
He takes my hands and looks at me as no one ever could. “I want to cook like this.”
“You do cook like this or so I’m told.”
“No, I mean, buying what’s fresh to market and having a few set dishes. Grab someone who does hearty and fabulous pastries and wine from locals in carafes.” His eyes are dreamy. I get it. We’re explaining life to each other, and for the first time in our lives nothing is rushed between us. It’s all fitting together even though we have no idea what all this will be.
If I let myself go there. It could be Colt and me in a villa, a beach shack, a mountain cabin, I don’t care. It will be the two of us and the girls. I do adore them, and I want to know them and be with them too. I can’t stop the thoughts pushing forward towards what I’m afraid will be an unforeseen crash. Seems to be my life’s theme. Expect the last possible scenario, and that’s the one that will bury you. I should wear a helmet all the time.
I shift in my chair and smirk at this man who makes me feel everything. “Go on. All that cooking and staff seems like a lot of trouble to make the girls’ dinner. What would you do with all the extra stuff? Sloane barely eats anything you cook. You are going to end up with a ton of leftovers.” He beams.
“There would be eight tables inside year-round and another five or so outside, when the weather is nice. That’s it. And a small counter for takeout. When the food is all gone, I close. Not too late but not too early. The window—” He gestures to the tiny door in the wall.
“The Barbie door?”
“Barbie?”
“It looks like it could lead to the dreamhouse or something. I’ve seen them but wasn’t sure what they are.” They’re all over Florence, but here I’ve only seen a couple of them. But they are never functional.
“Wine windows. Doors to Paradise. People walk up, ring a bell, and order a glass of wine then continue their stroll into the night. I’d let them choose an espresso or a glass of wine. And a small complimentary savory cheese tart.”
“I’m confused.”
“Almost always, but what about?”
“You’re talking about this place? Or a place like this? What would you do with it? What would Chiara and Gus do?” He takes my hand and kisses it wistfully.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Not them. Just a different life and path, that’s all.” It all comes together, and I scoot my chair to his side of the table. We don’t say anything as he picks up his fork with a piece of penne on it and feeds it to me. He kisses my neck while I chew.
“What would you do differently to this dish?”
“I’d add butter and bloom the oregano first.” He winks at me, and I get it. He’s never let himself dream.
“I want to take care of people.” His eyebrows shoot up.
“You already do.” He kisses me slowly. I taste the tomato on his lips, and I can’t help but fall deeper into this.
“I mean on a bigger scale. I don’t know yet. I like taking care of the villa. Give me a moment to catch up to your dreams. Why haven’t you become a chef?”
“Come on. Mags, you know the answer. Because I’ve apparently been a manipulated coward most of my life.”
I scoff. “Actually, you’ve been busy being brave, supportive, kind, loving and confident when no one was watching. Your girls were worth it all. I see you.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, overcome with emotion. I snake my way up to the arm porn.
“And I hear you.” He mirrors words from long ago. “You’re the breeze that floats over everything.”
“Explain please.” I ask.
“When the sun is so hot or the beach unbearable. Moments where you almost want to give up or when you can’t believe a day could get better, you’re like a gentle breeze nudging, reminding people, or me in particular there’s relief from the heat, or that even the good can get better. You’re the reminder I can be both a coward and brave, both overheated and refreshed.”
“That’s super nice.”
He cocks his head at me and purses those perfect lips. “A breeze is hope, a reminder that better things are behind it, and that it can be relentless and forgiving or a force of nature that takes your breath away. Or simply relief to brighten a moment. It can make everything sing. That’s you. You do it for everyone around you. Don’t you see that?”
I bite my lip and look away from him, then in a voice smaller than I intend I say, “Thank you. I don’t know where this all goes, but right here is perfect. I don’t have a whole lot of those days.”
“Aside from a couple with my daughters, all my perfect days, and moments, belong to you.”
I sit back in my seat. He leans toward me, and it’s a different look than all this swoony stuff. The look says if I’m not careful, I’m in for a rough ride. “You look like you want to devour me.”
“Always.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Public decency laws, but mostly the lack of a condom.” He grins.
“Hmmm. So, if you had a condom, we’d be what? Reuniting in the bathroom at this restaurant?”
He pauses his fork just before his mouth and says, “Not sure we’d make it that far.”
“This is a great date.” I wave my arms at Chiara. “Check please!”
“How I wish.” He chomps on his food, knowing he’s meeting Daisy in twenty minutes.