5. Portia
5
PORTIA
I wake alone in Rafael’s bed.
The bright Sicilian sun floods the room through the tall windows, the sheer linen curtains fluttering from the sea breeze.
I raise my arms above my head and stretch my whole body. I’ve slept surprisingly well—no dreaded throbbing headache from the wine and no leftover fatigue from sleeping in a bed that wasn’t mine.
For a night spent having sex with a refined and handsome Italian businessman, everything seems to have worked out well.
I smile to myself. Maybe I need to have one-night stands more often.
It’s time to erase the sour memories of the bad hookups from college. So long as the man knows how to handle business—and Rafael knew exactly how to handle business—it scratches a much-needed itch. Especially while on vacation.
My gaze pans the length of the large, all-white bedroom.
Where is Rafael, anyway?
We’d fallen asleep in bed together. At least that’s what I thought was happening as I drifted off and he stroked my hair.
I touch my hair and laugh at how disheveled it is. I didn’t even bother wrapping it up last night. The wine had me tipsy, and then I was so engrossed in the passion I shared with Rafael it was the last thing on my mind.
Thankfully, Jayla’s a hairstylist and can touch up the sew-in I had installed for this vacation to Sicily.
Pulling the sheet around my body like a toga, I slide off the bed to search for my clothes. If I remember correctly, my dress is probably out on the balcony…
A strained gasp sputters out of me.
I freeze in horror, my eyes widening at the messy surprise I find in the bed.
Blood.
Blood everywhere.
My blood.
Soaked through the bedsheets. Dying these perfect white, thousand-thread-count bedsheets a gruesome dark red.
“No!” I whisper, then I stomp my foot as panic spreads. “No, no, no! Not now. Not here.”
I should’ve known last night was too good to be true.
It would be my luck that my period randomly decided to show up.
This isn’t the first time it’s happened. Lincoln ranted many times over the years over my spontaneous periods and heavy bleeding spells. He didn’t understand my endometriosis and didn’t want to understand it—as far as he was concerned, he saw red stains and freaked out every damn time. Short of remaining in a diaper twenty-four seven, it was just a fact of my life that sometimes there would be an accident.
Over the years, I’d grown better at sensing when it was coming. I was in tune enough with my body to guess a premature period was on its way. But last night must’ve been different.
Sex with Rafael must’ve triggered it early.
I rush forward to rip the sheets off the bed and… do what exactly, I’m not even sure. Hide the evidence? Fess up to my accident? Attempt to clean it all up myself somehow?
The game plan’s nowhere near figured out when the door swings open and in strolls Rafael. He’s so casual and nonchalant in gray sweatpants and nothing else, his dark hair rumpled sexily, like he really did roll out of bed not long ago.
“I was ordering breakfast,” he says. “My staff will be bringing it up shortly.”
He crosses the room before he ever notices what I’m trying to hide. He stops abruptly once his gaze does fall on the bed and he sees all the red.
My hand comes up to touch my brow as a loud, long silence follows.
It feels like an eternity.
Me clutching one of the bedsheets to my body and cringing on the inside. Rafael at the foot of the bed surveying the mess I’ve made in my sleep.
“Look,” I sigh. “I’m so sorry about this. You have no idea how embarrassed I am. I didn’t realize until I woke up just now.”
“This… this is all you?” he asks slowly.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll wash the sheets myself. Or… or buy you a new set?—”
“Is this from last night? Were you hurt?”
My brows knit at his question. He thinks it’s his doing?
“I wasn’t hurt. I… I got my period early. It happens often. I have this… this condition and sometimes my periods are unpredictable… and very heavy. Again, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll pay for them.”
I trail off feeling ridiculous, wishing I could evaporate into thin air.
My skin burns with embarrassment and I can barely look him in the eye. The moment’s practically giving me flashbacks of Lincoln. After a while, I grew tired of his bad attitude about it, but the very first time it happened was like this.
I was ashamed and mortified.
Rafael says nothing, still eyeing the damage I’ve done to his thousand-thread-count sheets. He sticks both hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants and then starts toward me.
I take half a cautious step back, my pulse picking up. “I’ll see myself out. No need to escort me?—”
“Are you alright?” he cuts me off, reaching out to cup my cheek.
I blink at him, confused to the core. “What?”
“This is a lot of blood,” he says. Then he glances down the front of my body, still wrapped up in his flat sheet. “I have a private physician who can check you out.”
“Oh. Oh, no. That’s okay. There’s nothing they can do. I’ve seen dozens of doctors. But aren’t you… don’t you care that I ruined your sheets?”
His expression shifts to mirror my confusion, his thick brows drawn close. “Why would I give a fuck about bedsheets? I’m a grown fucking man, dolcezza . A little blood has never scared me away. Sheets are replaceable. You are not.”
The intense humiliation burning me up vanishes.
It takes me a second to adjust, processing what he’s said and the fact that I jumped to conclusions. He couldn’t care less that his sheets have been ruined. He’s not even turned off by the fact that it’s from my period.
In my thirty-two years of experience, most men tend to be weird about women’s periods. They don’t want to hear anything about them and almost act offended if the topic comes up too frequently. Lincoln was certainly like that our entire marriage.
My endo diagnosis changed nothing. Except maybe made him a harsher critic whenever I struggled.
“It’s more than a little blood,” I mutter almost jokingly.
Rafael shrugs. “I love the female form. All of its curves, quirks, flaws, and imperfections. All of its beauty. Part of that happens to be a menstrual cycle. It’s part of what makes you different from men. That’s a good thing.”
He leans forward and presses his lips to my brow, then turns away to finish telling me about breakfast. He insists I ignore the mess that is the bedsheets. His staff will come in and strip the bed.
“I will arrange for them to bring up some things for you. Some change of clothes and feminine care products.”
No less than ten minutes later, it happens.
I’m provided a bathrobe, some brand new panties and both pads and tampons. I join Rafael on the terrace as he sits down to the breakfast that’s been delivered for us.
Eggs prepared various ways, from poached to a spinach frittata that looks amazing.
There’s different kinds of bread and pastries to choose from. The same goes for the array of colorful fresh fruit waiting to be chosen.
I take a sip from the coffee and groan at how good it is. It’s so potent and rich that I can tell it’s high quality.
Rafael smirks, sipping from his own coffee cup. “Did you sleep well? All things considered?”
“Very well… until… you know.”
“So long as I didn’t hurt you,” he says. “I thought you enjoyed yourself.”
“I did. It was good. Really, really good.”
My skin heats up like earlier, except for a different reason altogether. Thoughts of last night fill my head ’til I start feeling him between my thighs. Suddenly, I’m not so distracted by the ache in my lower abdomen from the period cramps. I’m more focused on how amazing Rafael’s dick felt stroking into me.
“I’m glad to hear, dolcezza . I would like to see you again tonight.”
“Oh.” The uncertain sound leaves me before I can censor myself. I was under the impression this was a one-time thing. A quick vacation fling.
He slants his head to the side. “Oh? Just oh? Do you not want to see me anymore? Have I done something to turn you off?”
“No… no. Not at all. I guess I just assumed…” I laugh at myself, shaking my head. “I thought once would be enough for you.”
It’s difficult to describe the gleam that shines in his dark eyes at my words. It’s as if he finds what I’ve said funny. I’ve told him some kind of joke.
“This is for dinner. Just the two of us this time. What happens after dinner depends on what we want. Will you join me?”
“I would love to.”
“This is my number in case you need to reach me.” He slides a card across the table. “I will send a car for you at seven o’ clock, okay?”
We enjoy the rest of our breakfast over light conversation. Rafael asks me to tell him more about my travels. He asks many questions, nodding along as I speak. He’s attentive and engrossed the entire time, once again showing what an excellent listener he is.
When breakfast is over, he says, “Thank you for spending time with me, dolcezza . I look forward to seeing you tonight. Please let me know if I can do anything to make you feel better.”
My insides quake with butterflies as I smile and tell him I’ll be waiting for the car this evening.
I get dressed and then head downstairs to find Jayla wandering the entrance hall. Her eyes light up at the sight of me and she flocks over still wearing her dress from last night.
“Sissy, there you are! I was about to start blowing up your phone.”
I scan her up and down. “You look like you’re in high spirits.”
“I could say the same about you. Adagio had me… let’s just say twisted .”
I hook my arm with hers as we head toward the massive wooden front doors. The staff member standing by gives a bow and gestures toward the circle driveway, where a town car waits for us.
“So I take it you got your back blown out too?” Jayla giggles.
I bite back my own giddy laugh. “Let’s just say it was a night I’ll never forget.”
* * *
Faro is at our disposal for a third day in a row. He takes us to one of the beaches Francesca had recommended yesterday. We don’t get more than knee deep in the water. Jayla can’t swim and I didn’t bother putting on a bikini since Aunt Flow is visiting. Instead we lounge on the sand and drink cocktails from the nearby vendor on the boardwalk.
“This is the life,” Jayla sighs. She’s wearing huge sunglasses and a floppy hat as she turns her face up toward the warm sunshine. “I could live every day like this.”
“If only we were millionaires.”
“Did you notice those stares we’re getting? It’s almost like we are.”
“I did… except today I also noticed some of the shops were boarding up.”
“I saw that too,” Jayla says. “Maybe they close once tourist season ends.”
We go back for seconds on the cocktails and then even thirds. We’re both feeling nice by the time we wander from the beach and venture down a cobblestone street lined with cafés and boutiques.
Now that we’ve discussed it, I notice even more places boarding up. One elderly woman casts us a stern look before she swings a hammer at the wooden board she’s using to cover her shop window.
“Ignore her,” Jayla says. “There’re racists all over the world. They’re just jealous we’re Black, beautiful, and living it up.”
Though the woman’s look was definitely rude, I’m not sure racism is to be blamed in this case. It seems something else is going on around the village that we’re not privy to.
“So he asked you out for dinner tonight?” Jayla asks.
“Just the two of us. But I can ask him if you?—”
“No need. I think I need a night in anyway. Adagio wore me out, sissy. His dick? Huge!”
We’re still laughing and chitchatting when we return to Faro’s modest little sedan. He smiles toothily at us from the rearview mirror.
“Faro, what’s up around town?” I ask.
“What around town?”
“All the shops being boarded up.”
“Oh, no need to worry,” he says with what can only be a nervous laugh. “That has nothing to do with you girls. Did you enjoy yourselves?”
Jayla and I glance at each other. We’re dropped off at the loft no less than five minutes later.
With still half the day to go before my date with Rafael, I decide on a nap. Jayla wasn’t the only one who was worn out after last night. My period cramps make the situation worse as I draw the curtains to my bedroom and then crawl into bed.
It’s half past five when I wake up with a giant yawn. Still plenty of time to get ready for my date.
For tonight, I decide on a strappy floral crop top and matching wrap skirt. The look’s easy, breezy, and comfortable enough that it doesn’t feel like torture or like my uterus is being squeezed. I pull my hair back in a low bun and let my bangs frame my face, a few longer tendrils hanging free.
“Sissy, you are on fire!” Jayla gasps when she sees me. “You and Rafael might not make it to dinner.”
She’s joking, yet the thought makes me flush.
I wait in the living room area and think some more about last night. We’d had such natural bed chemistry. It felt so easy being with him. I wasn’t in my head like I usually am with men. Even with Lincoln I was usually trapped in my head, wondering about how I looked, or if I was any good.
Any obstacle Rafael and I had encountered, like his size, we’d worked through.
The man wasn’t turned off by the fact that I accidentally soaked his sheets in period blood .
He just might be more than a one-time fling. He just might be a keeper.
Seven o’ clock comes and goes.
I step out onto the balcony to make sure the car hasn’t arrived without me realizing it. But unlike the last two nights, no town car waits down below right on time.
Minutes tick by until the clock reads as seven thirty.
Jayla frowns and asks if he meant eight o’ clock instead.
“Maybe,” I mumble under my breath.
But a sinking feeling tells me that’s not what’s happening. The sinking feeling that can only be dread tells me that something has changed in the last few hours.
The number he gave me goes straight to voice mail.
It’s minutes after eight as I leave him a message, asking if he can call me back. Half past eight, I leave another message, telling him I would’ve liked to be considered if his plans changed.
“If you were no longer interested, I wish you would’ve just told me,” I say, my throat aching. “I’ve gotten dressed up and I’ve been waiting…”
The beep cuts me off.
I hang up burning from the same embarrassment I had exactly twelve hours ago. Earlier it was from the sheets. Now it’s from facing the fact that it seems I’ve been stood up.
I sigh through the disappointment. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
“Oh, sissy… fuck that guy! His loss. Want to go out for drinks just us?”
As much as I appreciate her attempt to cheer me up, I can’t bring myself to. A thousand different reasons fill my head wondering what could’ve gone wrong. Was Rafael pretending when he said he was okay with the accident? Was the sex terrible for him? Did he meet a new woman?
Maybe it really was a one-night stand, and he didn’t know how to break the news to me…
I strip off the clothes I’ve put on, washing away every streak of makeup, and then collapse in bed ready to sleep this awful experience away.
In the morning, I check my phone for any missed calls or messages. Anything from Rafael explaining what happened last night. Making sense of why he would stand me up. Instead I’ve only received messages from Finkle talking about some major crime story Newport Metro News is first to break.
A sigh leaves me as reality finally sinks in. I won’t ever hear from Rafael Calderone again…