Chapter Eleven #2
I’m not even sure what day it is. Chloe left yesterday, so that would make it…Tuesday? I think. Yeah. That’s right. It’s Tuesday. The front desk is empty, Marco must be off taking care of some hotel chore, and Reggie and I head outside.
The heat is very slowly starting to break, which is such a relief. It’s warm, but bearably so, and we merge into the bustling foot traffic on our street. The sky is cloudy and gray and I wonder if we might finally get some rain.
Reggie and I take our time strolling. It feels good just to be moving.
The chair in my suite isn’t the most comfortable, and after so long in the same position, my back is screaming.
But the walking is good, the feel of solid ground under my feet, the fresh air in my lungs, the bustle of others in this world with me, my adorable dog’s butt as he trots along in front of me—all these things are highly noticeable right now.
It’s what happens when I’m in the perfect creative frame of mind.
I see and feel everything around me as if it’s magnified.
Again, it occurs to me just how long it’s been since I felt this way, this kind of observance and creativity.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I look at the screen and have zero control over the grin that busts out across my face.
Ciao, bella. How are your words today?
I’ve gotten to the point where I can hear Marina’s voice when I read her texts.
And the crazy part is that her accent does things to me now, right here in the street, with her nowhere near me, when I’m reading her words, and the sound is just in my head.
I get a little flutter low in my body, and a quick throb between my legs reminds me that I’m alive.
My brain immediately tosses me an image of the two of us kissing.
I inhale deeply and let it out slowly.
Yeah. This woman.
I type back.
Hi! Been writing like crazy but needed a break. Walking Reggie right now.
The dots bounce for a bit before her words appear. I’m nearby. Need a break from the crazy writing? A glass of wine?
And now my grin turns into a chuckle. I’m in Italy…does anybody ever say no to a glass of wine?
Never , she replies, then gives me the name of a café that I recognize, having walked past it many times in my strolls.
It’s not far from where Reggie and I are, and when I reach it, Marina is already seated at an outdoor table for two, with a glass of wine in front of her and another waiting for me at my seat.
The throb hits me again, a little harder this time.
“I could get used to this,” I say as I absently bend and kiss her cheek.
I don’t even think about it, like it’s just the most natural thing to do.
And it is. Something zips across her face, but it’s gone before I can get a solid read on it.
I sit and make sure Reggie’s leash is secure, but there’s really no need.
I’ve learned in Italy that he seems to enjoy people watching as much as I do.
He plops himself down near my feet, tongue lolling from that walk and the heat, and settles in as I pull his small collapsible bowl from my bag and pour some water from my own bottle into it.
Satisfied my dog is good, I focus on my date as I lift my glass, the crimson wine absolutely gorgeous to look at.
“Here’s to having somebody who gets your wine for you ahead of time. ”
Marina smiles that sexy smile at me, and we touch glasses and sip.
“Oh, good God,” I say. “That’s delicious.”
Her smile is satisfied. “Thought you’d like it.”
Talking with Marina has become so incredibly easy. I don’t know when that happened. It’s like I’ve known her for years and know she gets me, and when she asks about my writing, I just open up like a faucet.
“I may have finally found my groove with this book,” I say, and I can feel my own excitement rolling through me, the way I always get when the story is flowing along smoothly. “I can’t remember the last time it came this easily.”
“You were struggling earlier, no?” Marina puts her forearms on the table and leans toward me, clearly interested in what I’m saying. I can’t remember the last time that happened either.
“I was, yes.” I take a sip before I continue. “Honestly, it’s been a long time. I’ve struggled for…quite a while now.”
“I remember. What do you think has changed?”
Her question is so innocent and genuine, and I almost laugh.
And then I toy with honesty. Do I tell her the truth?
Do I make something up? Do I dodge the question altogether?
When I look at her, when I fall into those dark eyes, when I’m caressed by that gentle smile, there’s no option other than honesty.
“You. That’s the change.” I say it softly. Not quite a whisper, but close. “You’ve inspired me. And I’m not easily inspired, believe me.”
Marina’s cheeks blossom a pretty pink, but her expression is one of clear satisfaction. “Me, huh?”
“You.”
“Well.” And here, she gets what’s just this side of a goofy grin on her face.
Yeah, she’s definitely satisfied with my answer, and she’s so fucking cute and sexy right now, I start entertaining fantasies about the two of us. Naked. Oh my.
“I did offer to help with inspiration, and you did accept that offer, so I guess we both win.”
“I guess we do.”
And then there’s a lot of staring. Eye contact. Knowing half-grins. The throbbing between my legs is tapping away, making sure there’s no way I can ignore it. My underwear is suddenly damp.
“So, I was thinking,” she says.
“Uh-oh.”
“Funny.” That smile again. I’m focused on her mouth, and my brain sends me an image of kissing her. Then I lose myself and when I come back to the present, I realize she’s waiting for me to answer the question she just asked.
“Sorry. What?”
Her grin is knowing—how is it that I feel like this woman I’ve barely known for a few weeks can see right into my soul?—and she repeats her question. “I asked if you’re busy for dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. It’s actually why I texted in the first place. I wanted to invite you to my place for dinner.”
The idea of getting to see where Marina lives, to be in her space and surrounded by her things is much more appealing than I even want to admit to myself, and I don’t hesitate. “I would love that.”
Her face lights up so brightly, I wonder if she thought I’d say no. “Yes? Eccellente .”
“What can I bring?” I ask.
“Nothing. Your beautiful face. And Reggie.” We both look down at my dog, who is happily watching the world walk by.
When I glance back up, Marina is studying me.
Her eyes on me feel like her hands on me, and I like it.
We stay like that for a delicious moment before she breaks our gaze.
“I will text you the address. You can take a cab or an Uber.”
I nod. “And are you cooking?”
“Oh, yes. Is there anything you don’t eat?”
I ponder for a moment before shaking my head. “If it’s food, I tend to eat it.”
“ Eccellente ,” she says again, and there’s that flutter again that her accent causes in me. She finishes her wine, and I follow suit.
“I should probably get back to work,” I say.
“You know, I’m usually sad when our time together is over, but now I know I’ll see you later, so it’s not that bad.
” I swallow, surprised that I let myself say those words out loud, but there they are, floating in the air between us.
I brace, but Marina’s smile just gets bigger.
“Me too,” is all she says, and we stand, Reggie included.
“Thank you for the wine. That was a much-needed respite.” She squints at me, and I smile as I edit, “Break. A much-needed break.”
“I’m glad I could help.” With a jerk of her thumb over her shoulder, she adds, “I am this way.” It’s the opposite of the direction Reggie and I are headed, so I nod.
“See you tonight,” I say, and I really, really like the sound of that. So does Marina, given how her expression softens. This time, she bends to kiss my cheek, then strokes it with her thumb.
“Bye.”
And yes, I watch her walk away. I am no dummy.
This is a date.
I have to actually talk myself into accepting that as fact. Marina and I have been doing this dance long enough to understand that this is a date.
And therefore, I must dress accordingly.
That also means I must obsess and second-guess and try on everything I brought with me in order to find the best outfit. Because of course I do.
“I should’ve taken the time to go buy something new,” I mutter as I whip off the top I’m wearing, utterly unimpressed with it. Reggie is on the bed watching me. He didn’t look terribly impressed with that shirt either.
Here’s the problem: I don’t want to overdo it.
I also don’t want to underdo it. On top of that, I only have limited options because I didn’t bring my entire wardrobe to Italy with me, obviously.
I also didn’t expect to be going on an actual date while in Italy.
I’m supposed to be here to work. But after much obsessing and stressing and throwing items on the floor, I finally decide to walk the line between super casual and dressed up.
I go with a simple pair of white capris and a light blue top with capped sleeves and an open-notch neckline that dips enticingly.
I top the clothing off with wedge sandals that give me a tiny bit of extra height, some small gold hoop earrings, and a spritz of my favorite subtle perfume—a scent I found in Paris that’s surprisingly soft and inviting.
I scrutinize myself.