Chapter One #3
Later that afternoon, after freshening up and donning her long flowy yellow dress and sandals, Zara welcomed the dolce vita as she moved through the bustling crowds.
Her heart beat in time with the rhythm of melodic chatter, the clip-clop of shoes on cobblestones, and the harmonious buzz of Italian life.
With a pistachio and white chocolate gelato in hand, she slowly wandered the streets in awe, taking in every single detail and storing it away as a keepsake for later in life.
She knew all too well how quickly things could change, without a hint of warning, so she never wanted to become complacent and take things for granted.
Living in the moment was her mantra, her motto, her everyday objective. And so far, so good.
After turning a little corner and heading down a pedestrian-only path, she noticed, amid the kaleidoscope of colours and scents, a charming ceramics shop.
Pausing, she gazed through the windows at shelves brimming with artisanal treasures in every hue, feeling a peculiar pull to step inside.
She usually only window-shopped — her nomadic lifestyle didn’t allow for many material things — but this time she simply couldn’t walk on by.
After finishing the last of her delicious treat, she stepped through the doors, drawn like a bee to honey by the pretty, painted porcelain.
Her fingertips roamed over the delicate glazes and intricate forms as she lost herself in the world of exquisite creativity.
But just as she reached for a piece that had caught her eye, feeling a sudden need to take it home with her, an accidental nudge with her elbow knocked it off its perch.
She watched as the plate flipped through the air in what felt like slow motion then shattered on impact, breaking her wide-eyed spell.
She gasped. ‘Mi dispiace tanto!’ Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she dropped to her knees and carefully tried to gather the broken pieces.
‘Please, allow me.’ The voice that spoke was deeply warm and filled with kindness.
When she looked up from the floor and into eyes that reflected the depth of the blue sea outside, time seemed to stand still.
‘Really, I can …’ Zara began, but the impossibly handsome man raised a hand while a charismatic smile played on his lips.
‘Consider it a sign of serendipity,’ he insisted, his charm wrapping around her like a cosy shawl as he knelt from his towering height to gather the shards of broken pottery.
‘Here, let me help you.’ His big, strong hands were careful and precise as he picked the shards up, as if piecing together not just fragments of porcelain but moments of fate.
‘Serendipity?’ Zara laughed lightly at his use of one of her favourite words, feeling oddly unburdened and at ease in his presence. ‘I suppose we could call it that, if you insist.’
‘Oh, I insist,’ he replied affirmingly, meeting her gaze almost protectively. ‘Because now I’ve met you, it feels like a very fitting word.’
And just like that, sparks flew between them, unseen but palpable.
‘I’m Jay, Jay Maverick. Nice to meet you …?’ His Australian accent was thick as he held out a hand, but it spoke of sturdiness, responsibility, and a tender gentleness that should have been impossible coming from a man of his strapping build.
‘Oh, hi, Jay Maverick, I’m Zara Monroe,’ she quickly replied, while trying to ignore the spark that flew into her soul at his touch and ignited a burning.
‘Ah, like the infamous Marilyn?’ he replied, with a quick glance at what would’ve been a wedding ring, if she’d had one. As he brought his gaze back to hers, his smile was sweetly relieved.
‘Ha, yes.’ How could she like this man so much, when she didn’t know him at all?
‘Well, Zara Monroe, perhaps this is the universe’s design,’ he mused, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Or the hands of fate, dealing a winning hand.’
‘That’s a really nice thought.’ Oh my — mentally, physically and spiritually she was helplessly tumbling into him at a ridiculously dizzying speed.
‘And if you’re right, then let’s hope the universe has more in store for us,’ she said with an adventurous twinkle in her eye.
The possibility of something magical filled her with excitement as he took her hand a second time to help her back to her feet.
Control yourself, Zara Monroe!
‘Yes, let’s hope,’ he echoed, his wish, or maybe his promise, left lingering in the air.
‘I’m going to go and fix up the shopkeeper for my broken plate,’ she said, still holding his hand, not wanting to let it go.
‘No, please, Zara, let me do that,’ Jay quickly replied.
His hand dropped from hers and she almost grabbed it back. ‘I can’t let you do that.’
‘Yes, you can.’ His smile reached inside of her and effortlessly caressed her heart. ‘Because I truly want to, and I’ll be wounded if you don’t allow me to.’
One second, two, three, then a much-needed breath before she passed out from lack of oxygen. ‘Okay, but only if you’re sure?’ She felt awful, permitting him to be so gallant, but also overcome with giddy delight at his kind-hearted gesture.
He held her gaze for a lengthy moment, then smiled as if he knew something she didn’t. ‘I’m absolutely positive, Miss Monroe.’
‘Well, thank you.’ She longed to reach out and touch him again, so she could feel again whatever it was she’d felt when his skin had met with hers just moments ago.
‘It’s been really nice, meeting you.’ His voice trickled over her like honey.
‘It’s been really nice meeting you, too.
’ She needed to walk away before she rose up on her tippy toes and kissed him fair and square on his oh-so-kissable lips.
‘We will see if destiny and fate conspire again, shall we?’ Before she went and did something, anything, utterly reckless, she quickly turned and, step by step, dragged herself away from making promises she could never keep.
‘I have a feeling they will conspire, Zara Monroe.’ Jay’s hopeful voice trailed after her.
With Jay’s final words echoing in her mind like a gentle caress, Zara dreamily stepped out of their wistful bubble and into the sun-drenched piazza.
The cobblestones were smooth beneath her sandals as she fought not to look back at the man who’d just glided into her life and sprinkled it with what felt like millions of dazzling stars. And miraculously, she succeeded.
But only just.
The sounds of laughter and animated conversation swirled around her.
Dragging her escaped attention back to the here and now, she observed families gathered at tables outside trattorias and parents chatting while children played with carefree abandon.
Even though she relished being witness to the depth of human connections, a longing tugged at her buoyant heart for a deep relationship she could call her own, the sensation dragging her spirit down just a little.
Her yearning for the kind of permanence these families shared was overwhelmingly ingrained within her, born from her profound loss and unstable childhood.
As the clock of life ticked away each day, and she was no closer to achieving what felt more like a fantasy than a reachable dream, she hoped life didn’t get away from her before she’d had the chance to meet the man of her dreams and have his babies.
‘One day, with any luck,’ she whispered to herself.
The thought sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine, and she briefly closed her eyes, inviting the unknown to sweep her off her feet.
Tilting her face upwards to bask in the golden sunlight, she allowed herself to daydream of a home where every wall knew her name, where each picture frame held not just borrowed memories, but ones truly her own.
A household where the pitter-patter of tiny feet and giggling laughter echoed, unconditional love was a constant presence and not just a fleeting guest, and sweet memories were made every day.
Memories of her transient childhood flickered through her mind, leaving behind a patchwork of temporary roofs and fleeting bonds.
She craved something different. Craved for roots to sink deep into the soil of a life she’d chosen — not one dictated by circumstance.
Maybe Jay Maverick had been brought into her life for a reason?
And maybe she shouldn’t get ahead of herself — they might never see each other again.
But a romantic girl could dream, couldn’t she?
Shaking off the wistfulness, her eyes sparkled with vivacity as she continued to explore.
The streets of Amalfi unfurled before her, each turn revealing another layer of the seaside town’s vibrant pulse.
Stalls adorned with lemons the size of fists beckoned her with their bright yellow hues and tantalising scents, mingling with the briny kiss of the nearby sea.
Feeling as if each step was upon the clouds she worked above and dreamt below, she indulged in the aromas of fresh basil, garlic and pomodorro wafting from open kitchen windows, whispering promises of delicious meals shared in good company.
And that made her incredibly hungry.
Drawn by the siren call of the ocean, she took a sharp turn and meandered towards the marina, her petite frame swaying to the rhythm of the lapping waves.
Brightly coloured fishing boats bobbed in the shimmering harbour, their hulls painted with tales of storms weathered and tranquil seas savoured.
She paused, gazing out at the seemingly endless expanse of water meeting sky, feeling a sense of belonging grounding her like an anchor dropping into the depths of her wandering soul.
‘La vita è un viaggio,’ she whispered to herself, the Italian phrase for life is a journey rolling off her tongue like a sweet melody.