THIRTY-EIGHT
After an entire day of crazy adventures and soaking in the beauty of Santorini, Luca and I grabbed a quick dinner at Karma, a cozy spot known for its delicious Mediterranean offerings and local ambiance. The small, family-run restaurant was tucked away in Fira, with a view that caught the last rays of sunlight. We sat outside, surrounded by the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses. The food arrived promptly—the flavors perfectly captured the essence of the island: more grilled seafood drizzled with lemon and olive oil, tzatziki so creamy it’s almost decadent, and a side of fava beans mashed with garlic, olive oil, and a sprinkle of capers. The meal was satisfying but light enough to leave us feeling comfortable, not weighed down.
We finished our dinner and headed back to my room, the soft evening air carried the scent of the ocean and something vaguely floral from the nearby gardens. The walk back to my room felt longer than it should have, every step heavy with the weight of what wasn’t being said. The air between Luca and me was thick, electric, and the closer we got to my door, the more aware I became of him—the heat radiating from his body, the way his hand brushed mine as we walked side by side.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t looking at me, but his jaw was tight, and his fingers flexed at his side, like he was fighting the urge to reach for me.
When we reached the door, I fumbled with the key card, my pulse quickening as I felt his eyes on me. The air seemed to hum, the quiet stretch of hallway somehow too loud with everything we weren’t saying.
“Need some help?”
he asked, his voice low and smooth, though there was an edge to it—something darker, more insistent.
“I’ve got it,”
I said, though my fingers trembled as I finally pushed the door open.
He followed me inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound was final, like a line being drawn. I set my bag down, turning to face him, but before I could say a word, Luca stepped closer.
“Charlie,”
he said, my name rolling off his tongue like a promise.
He didn’t touch me—not yet—but he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him, smell the faint trace of the ocean still clinging to his skin. His gaze dropped to my lips, lingered there, then dragged back up to meet my eyes.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Luca—”
“You don’t have to say anything,”
he interrupted, his voice rough now, his usual smoothness fraying at the edges.
He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingertips barely grazed my skin, but it sent a shiver down my spine. My heart thundered in my chest as I stood there, trapped between the intensity of his gaze and the pull of something I couldn’t fight anymore.
“I loved spending the day with you, but not being in bed with you every second of the day is difficult,”
he murmured, his fingers tracing a slow line down my jaw. “I thought it would get easier, but t’s getting harder.”
I exhaled shakily, every nerve in my body lighting up at his words. “Harder, huh?”
I asked, my voice steady even as my pulse raced.
That was all the permission he needed. His hand slipped to the back of my neck, and he pulled me to him, his mouth crashing into mine. The kiss was searing, all the tension from the day unraveling in a flood of heat and urgency.
I pressed closer, my hands finding his chest, then sliding up to his shoulders. His hands tightened on me, pulling me against him as if he couldn’t stand the distance. When he finally broke the kiss, his lips hovered over mine, his breath ragged.
“This,”
he said, his voice low and rough, “I want all of this, over and over.”
I couldn’t help but smile, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Then stop wasting time talking.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating between us as he kissed me again, slower this time but no less intense. The rest of the world faded away, leaving only us, the door closed on everything else but this moment. We enjoyed each other in every way, over and over.
There was a knock at the door around 8:30. I groaned, rolling out of bed and pulling Luca’s shirt over my head, the first thing I found to put on. It covered my butt which made it good enough for answering the door. I managed to get a few of the buttons together before I pulled the door open.
It wasn’t even room service. It was Michael. Seeing him again was too soon. I was so thankful to not share Italy with him, but he was encroaching in my personal space which he elected to leave. There was nothing left between us, why was he suddenly everywhere.
“Why are you at my door? Are you lost?”
I asked, trying to keep my irritation in check. Calm and collected, I kept reminding myself.
“Well, good morning to you too,”
he said with a smirk and heavy judgement smeared across his face. He looked confused, like he wasn’t quite sure why he was at my door either.
“I was expecting breakfast from room service. You can understand my disappointment,”
I replied flatly. I looked down the hall in a mocking move to let him know he wasn’t invited.
“You know, Charlie, I thought you were smarter than that. The Italian guys always fuck the tourists. They are known for that. The lovers of Europe, or some bullshit like that. Yet, here you are galavanting all of town falling for that kind of shit. It’s embarrassing,”
Michael scolded, his tone dripping with disdain.
“Have you been watching me? And to be fair, the French do the same—it’s just kind of a European thing overall. Free love or something like that,”
I shot back, unfazed at anything he had to say to me. He had zero rights to my feelings.
“Are you seriously sleeping with random stranger just to make me jealous,”
Michael asked, raising his voice.
“Bold. Very bold statement,”
I responded, crossing my arms. Calm and collected. Swimming in the sea. Deep breath in.
“What’s wrong with you, Charlie? This isn’t you,”
he almost yelled at me. Was he actually raising his voice at me. That is some audacity for a guy who broke up with me under the claims that I was suddenly boring. I can’t control how people behave. Their reactions to my actions are not my business. Really, I just don’t fucking care.
Before I could respond, the door opened wider and Luca stood next to me leveling Michael with a face that told him to ‘Fuck off’ without using any words. He pulled me into his arms and closed the door, ending the conversation.
“Some men can’t handle when a woman isn’t broken or pining over them,”
Luca said calmly. His lips pressed fiercely against mine, consuming any resolve I had left of not falling madly in love with this wildly hot Italian.
I smiled up at him, feeling a rush of warmth.
Room service showed up a few minutes later with a full breakfast spread and coffee. We settled onto the couch, and we began a conversation that felt like peeling away layers.
“The difference for me is that I already know I’m flawed. I’m very self-aware of my weaknesses, character flaws, and habits. Being self-aware is freedom. People want something to be wrong with you whether it’s a failure like a breakup, or achievement or successes. People come up with their own narrative about others, and I hate that. I don’t understand why people have the need to do that to each other. It’s a waste of mental space. The world is hard enough. Being self-aware is my tool and somehow I missed a ton of red flags with that one. We had the same circle of friends. Hung out at the same places around the city. It was convenient. Looking back, I spent over two years with someone who barely even knew me and didn’t even care to try. On paper, we matched up. In real life, I kind of feel like an idiot. Lena didn’t like him, not ever. But she still showed up to pack me up and help me move my life into hotel. She didn’t say I told you so once. I love her for that.“
Luca nodded thoughtfully, “Sometimes, the easier route is just part of the journey. Sometimes, I think we aren’t ready for the next part of life. I don’t know. Was it a terrible breakup?”
“Actually, I was indifferent. He was more upset that I wasn’t upset. Does that make sense? He already was seeing someone else, Kenna. I would never beg someone to want me, especially after cheating. I rather be alone for a thousand years than be someone’s second choice or back up plan.”
“When someone cheats, even though they’re at fault, they want to share the blame with the other person. It makes them feel better about the situation, like justification for the action,”
Luca explained.
“Have you ever cheated on someone?”
I asked, curious.
“I have made plenty of mistakes and poor decisions in my lifetime,”
he admitted.
After I didn’t comment, he asked teasingly, “Is that judgement I see?”
“Not at all. Has your heart ever been broken?”
I pressed.
“Not for the right reasons,”
he said, looking a bit wistful.
“Details,”
I encouraged.
“More sad or disappointed over the idea of something not working out, like the potential that could have been but never happened. The idea of having that open passionate love of your life that weathers all the hardships and celebrates the wins. The type you never have to question. I haven’t experienced it. Does that really exist? I am not sure,”
Luca answered more rhetorically than literally.
“Do you believe in marriage? Monogamy? Lena has a strong argument against both, but I am on the fence. I am hopeful,” I share.
“I think love and happiness come in many forms, not only marriage. Marriage doesn’t promise forever or perfection. And with monogamy, that one is a personal conversation to have with the person you are dating. Everyone has a different idea of what they want. Sometimes sex is just sex, other times it means more. The Europeans see this much differently than the Americans. We don’t put sex and love in the same categories. Sometimes sex is sex and love is love, one without the other or sometimes both at the same time,”
Luca argued.
“Fair point. It’s been a few years since I’ve even thought about regarding relationships or about what I want from one,”
I admitted.
“You will be fine. Promise,”
Luca assured me.
“Says the super hot Italian guy, who, from what I have recently learned, fucks all the tourists like it’s his job,” I teased.
Luca laughed and threw his hands up. “You caught me!”
“It’s a great strategy, if you ask me. The women are here to escape. There are so many to pick from. You have that ‘I’m too busy, but can make five minutes to fuck’ vibe. It’s hot,”
I insisted.
Luca acted injured. “Five minutes? What? I gave you my best seven minutes!”
“I will make sure to leave that in my review,”
I shot back, laughing and pretending to take note.
“Yes, please. I’d appreciate it. It might help with my lack of current business,”
he said, grinning.
“Do you think people like us, who are in very committed relationships with our businesses, that there is someone for us to match?” I asked.
“That hasn’t been my experience so far, but I’d like to hope,”
he responded.
“Do we accept and enjoy a life of hook-ups and short-lived affairs?”
I thought out loud.
“For now, we just enjoy the moments and don’t pressure our lives to be the norm,”
he stated.
“I like that,” I agreed.
I loved feeling his fingers go up and down my back under my shirt.
“He never once asked me anything about my needs or wants,” I said.
“And the sex?”
Luca asked, his tone curious.
“Normal. Pretty basic. He was an in-and-out type of guy,”
I admitted, squirming a bit. I suddenly felt ashamed that I allowed that in a relationship. I want more for myself. Life is too short to not be adored.
Luca let out a deep laugh in response, “That is the saddest statement I have ever heard to describe sex.”
He just laughed at it. We both did.
“Charlie, you’re an amazing woman. Don’t ever settle for less,”
Luca said sincerely.
The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, dipping into deeper territory than either of us had probably intended. It hadn’t been about us—not exactly—but there had been a weight to it, a quiet acknowledgment of everything we were skirting around.
I liked hearing his thoughts, the way he spoke with such calm conviction. It was a side of him I hadn’t fully seen before. Still, there’d been an unspoken tension lingering between us, a line we hadn’t crossed yet, though it had felt like we were dancing closer to it with every passing second.
And then, as if the universe had decided we’d gotten too serious, the sky cracked open. It started with a soft patter, the first drops falling lazily. But within moments, the rain had intensified, drumming against the terrace roof and splashing onto the balcony.
Luca and I decided to stay in, a decision that felt like the right one. We’d had our fill of adventure, our fill of exploration, and now we just wanted to be present—together, in this perfect place. We ordered room service—nothing elaborate, but satisfying in its simplicity. A platter of local cheeses, thinly sliced meats, fresh, crusty bread, and olives that were far too easy to eat by the handful. We paired it with a bottle of Santorini wine that tasted like the island itself—fruity, crisp, and light.
After eating, we retreated to the soft bed. My body relaxed into the sheets, and I could tell Luca’s did, too. We napped for a while, the quiet of the room broken only by the occasional sound of the rain tapping against the window. When I woke up, he was sitting on the balcony, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the city lights.
I joined him, the cool air hitting my skin as I stepped outside. The rain had settled into a steady drizzle, and the scent of it mixed with the salt of the Aegean. The air felt different here—cleaner, almost electric. The city was a living thing, pulsing gently as the buildings glowed in the dimming light, and the ocean below seemed to shimmer with the same quiet energy. We didn’t speak for a while—just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, breathing in the view.
The calm of the moment was unlike anything I’d experienced. No rush. No schedule. Just the two of us, in the middle of Greece, under a sky painted in a thousand shades of twilight blue. There was a peace here that I didn’t know I needed until I found it.
As night fell, the city seemed to wake up in its own way—its life reflected in the twinkling lights that began to flicker across the hillside. The sound of laughter, the occasional music from a nearby bar, the murmur of voices—it all blended together in a symphony of quiet joy.
I caught myself staring at the lights, caught up in how perfect the moment felt. The rain had washed everything clean, leaving only the beauty of the night. I smiled, feeling the weight of the thought settle inside me: This is how life should be. This is how love should feel.
I turned to Luca, who was watching me with a softness in his eyes. There were no words to describe what we were sharing, and no need to fill the space with anything else. The silence between us wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was just… right. Like we didn’t need anything else to complete the picture. Just this.
And for a moment, that was all I wanted. The world, and all its complications, seemed a million miles away.
We didn’t speak for a while. We didn’t need to. We simply sat, letting the view and the quiet of the night do what they did best—bring us closer. I thought about how easy it all was. How being with Luca didn’t feel forced or hurried, but natural, effortless. Every word, every glance, every touch seemed like a part of something bigger—something that didn’t need to be explained.
When the bottle of wine was empty and the sky had fully darkened, we stood up and moved inside. It felt like we were two pieces of a puzzle that just fit—no questions asked. I couldn’t help but think that maybe this was the way things were supposed to be all along. No pressure. No expectations. Just the freedom to be.
Later, as we settled into the bed again, I caught myself drifting off to sleep with one last thought: This moment, this feeling, is all that matters right now. And I could have stayed in that moment forever.
“I don’t want this time to end,”
Luca said, his eyes soft and sincere.
“Neither do I,”
I admitted.
Luca pulled me close, his arms wrapped around me.
“E troppo presto per dire addio,”
he whispered so softly I wasn’t sure if I heard him correctly.
It felt warm to be wanted, desired and enjoyed. So many times…We fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that tomorrow was goodbye. But for tonight, it was enough to just let it be.