Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Renata
Turning airplane mode off on my phone, I followed the crowd as we deboarded in San Diego. My flight had been delayed, making an already long journey even worse. I was hungry and tired, just longing for a comfortable bed to collapse into.
Preparing for my extended visit had been easier than I’d thought. I texted a trusted neighbor to pick up my mail and contacted my landlord about my trip. I had no siblings to call, no plants to water, no pet to make arrangements for. My career was my whole life, and that had been put on hold.
As I moved through the hallways toward customs, the truth of what my life had become was clear. No one would even miss me while I was gone. That revelation made my chest ache. How had I not recognized how isolated I’d become and how much I’d masked the deep loneliness with work?
The phone call to my parents came to mind as I walked quickly, sidestepping a family.
My father was worried about me traveling alone again, but my mother scolded him for making me sound like a child who couldn’t take care of herself.
He finally gave up, told me to have a safe trip, and said that he loved me, leaving me on the phone with her.
My parents had an unusual marriage. They were mostly respectful and courteous to each other, but they just weren’t in love.
I’d never seen either of them be affectionate with the other my entire life.
When I would go back home to Rome to visit, the only thing they did together was work in their leather emporium.
He ate dinner in front of the TV while she ate alone in the kitchen.
They never traveled and slept in separate rooms. Memories of my childhood flooded my mind.
A quiet home that somehow always hummed with repressed tension.
Long lectures from Mama about how men were not to be trusted.
It was no wonder that, despite my deep love for God, I could never say the words ‘I love you’ to a man other than my father.
It was somewhat of an arranged marriage, but not like the ones you read about in romance novels, where the couple gradually falls in love.
From what my mother told me once I became an adult, their families were friends, and it just made sense at the time.
Her disappointment that it never blossomed into love was clear in her words.
For years, I felt sad for them and what they seemed to miss out on by their choice, and divorce was never an option.
Mama raised me to be independent, fiercely so, and instilled in me the belief that I should never let a man influence my decisions or my heart.
Hearing her speak about her wish to have her own life, not dependent on a man, broke my heart for both of them.
She had never had the chance to live her own life on her own terms. Financially, she was dependent on my father, having never pursued a college degree or a career of her own.
By the time I moved away to Tuscany, those lessons were firmly part of my psyche.
And yet, secretly, I longed for things she had warned me about.
The love of a godly man. To share a life with mutual affection and to allow him to take care of me in the same way I would take care of him.
I wasn’t sure that would ever be possible for me.
Checking my phone, I saw that Vicky had texted me just as I had finally boarded my last flight from Atlanta.
She told me a chatty client kept her longer, so instead of making me wait, she was sending her friend, Michael Walker.
They all called him Mike, and she and her husband, Miles, had grown close to him when his best friend, Niko, joined their friend group after dating Leyla.
I sometimes needed a map to keep everyone straight, but more than anything, I envied the life she had built for herself, surrounded by people who loved her so dearly.
As the long line snaked through the barriers that made me feel like cattle, I checked for more messages. Her last one confirmed that Mike would be there waiting for me. She sent a picture, just in case I’d forgotten what he looked like after our brief video call months ago.
Bringing it up, my head tilted as I studied him. He was a good-looking man. A very good-looking man. Dark, wavy hair, hazel eyes. He had the most amazing smile. If I wasn’t mistaken, a scientist of some kind.
“Sei qui per vedere il tuo regazzo? He’s very handsome,” an older woman said, leaning over my shoulder, her accent thick.
Twisting to look at her, I recognized her from my first flight leaving Tuscany. Answering her in English, I said, “No, not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”
She smiled as if she knew a secret. Clearing my throat and turning off my phone to signal my nosy neighbor to mind her own business, I thought about the prospect of meeting him in person for the first time.
Vicky and Miles often talked about Mike and his bubbly personality.
Apparently, his perpetual smile and kindness endeared him to them.
What felt like an hour later, I pushed my carry-on bag with my foot, too tired and sore to keep holding it, and I stepped up as the line moved. My mother would kill me if she saw me dragging my bag on the dirty floors.
Well, at least she’d be proud I hadn’t asked a man to help me.
My plan was to grab my overstuffed suitcase and text the number Vicky had given me to see where to wait for him to drive up.
Thirty minutes later, I finally cleared customs and found my bag.
I was just about to text Mike when someone tapped my shoulder.
Spinning around, I came face-to-face with the man himself.
Wow, this guy was tall. I wasn’t exactly tiny at five-seven, but he towered over me.
His hair looked tousled, as if he had been running his hands through it.
A curly wave hung low on his forehead, and for some unknown reason, I wanted to brush it out of his eyes, which held mischief and a hint of nervousness.
“Ren, welcome,” he said, a bit breathless. I assumed he had raced in, thinking he was late. He looked so happy, like he was here to pick up a close friend he hadn’t seen in ages. I smiled back because there was no way not to. He put me at ease immediately.
“Ciao, Mike. So nice to finally meet you,” I answered, pushing my carry-on higher on my shoulder. “I was expecting to find you outside in your car. You didn’t have to come in.”
His smile was so wide, it nearly blinded me under the harsh fluorescent lights. Mike Walker looked as if the sun had just come out, and my chest expanded at the sight. I’d forgotten how attractive he was when we met on that call.
“No, no problem at all. I thought you might need help with your suitcase. If you’re anything like Vicky, Leyla, and Sofia, I figured it might be as big as you,” he joked, making me laugh.
He reached for the strap of my carry-on and lifted the heavy bag off my shoulder like it was a feather. It was filled to the brim with goodies from home for Vicky and her family.
“Oh, thank you. I feel like it’s become a permanent part of my body,” I joked, stretching my neck side to side. “Going to need a massage to get those knots out.”
Mike swallowed, and his smile faltered for a moment before he looked away, grabbing the handle of my rolling suitcase. “Here, let me take that. You relax. I’m parked nearby if you don’t mind walking, or you can wait here, and I’ll come back for you in the truck.”
Shaking my head, I said, “No, please. Walking sounds great right now. I have no problem avoiding sitting down even for a few more minutes.”
“Good. Great. That’s…a good plan. Let’s head out then,” he said, pushing his chin out towards the automatic doors. He was nervous and a little sweaty. Maybe he did run to get to me.
As I followed him, he looked back at me several times. I wasn’t sure if it was to make sure he didn’t lose me in the crowd or something else.
I’d learned to read people in my profession.
It had become easier for me to tell if someone was comfortable with what I was suggesting during a remodel.
The eyes told everything, and right now, Mike’s eyes were focused on making sure I was with him as we walked through the brightly lit and busy parking garage as if he feared losing me.
“Not too much further,” he said apologetically. I kept my smile pleasant so he wouldn’t feel like he was inconveniencing me. I was enjoying stretching my legs.
“Mike, thank you again for coming tonight. I’m sure it was not in your plans. Vicky felt so bad about all this, and so do I.” We turned down a row as he slowed, his long legs keeping pace with me.
“It was no trouble. Promise. I was happy to help out,” he said, stopping at a tall truck. When he got close to the driver’s door and touched the handle, it unlocked. “Oh, I’m not sure this big suitcase will fit in the back seat. Okay for me to put in the bed of the truck?”
“Sure, that’s no problem. Nothing in there is fragile.
If there was, the baggage handlers would’ve ruined it by now,” I joked.
He chuckled nervously and carefully lifted it into the back, securing it with some kind of stretchy contraption.
There was sand all over, and he looked at me, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He mumbled something about surfing.
Waving me in front of him, I walked to the passenger door, where he helped me up and in before storing my carry-on bag in the backseat. I set my purse on my lap and buckled in.
“Here we go. Let me turn on the AC,” he said as he slid into the driver’s seat.
San Diego was known for its cool nights even in the summer, and I was tempted to tell him not to bother and just roll the windows down.
From my first visit, I knew the airport was very close to the harbor, making the air even cooler at this time of night.
Mike pulled out and headed for the exit as I stifled a yawn. “Vicky says you’re here for a month. What brings you to California?”