Chapter Twenty-One Alex
R OME ’ S HOMETOWN sat only two hours from Lexington and the traffic gods smiled down on us, blessing us with a relatively easy trip.
Rome devoured his dinner in the first ten minutes before we could get to talking.
With a full belly, he stretched out his long legs in the passenger seat.
I didn’t mind a two-hour drive—his car was nothing but luxury and it floated down the pavement like a skater on ice.
We got into a light spat during the drive.
Rome had repeatedly tried to pry into why I, conveniently, had five days of no client appointments.
He insisted that I didn’t rearrange my career for him, that just because he had time off didn’t mean that I needed to pull myself away from prior engagements.
I put up the obligatory objections to let him know I was free to make my own choices.
Little did he realize how much I had rearranged my career for him.
For me. For us . I had to remember that. It wasn’t just for him.
Rome also walked me through the fight again, this time with more animation and remorse.
Once more, he reiterated his pacifist nature and the innate desire to never do harm to someone else.
Both Joe and my brother Devin—who I found out escorted him off the field—independently contacted me to let me know how mortified Rome was of his actions and how I might react.
About an hour into the drive he had finally calmed.
He held my hand and traced the veins along the back.
He quizzed me on the members of his family (by my request) so I wouldn’t have to struggle with names when I met them tomorrow.
Apparently, he had texted his mother and everyone dropped everything to meet me for an afternoon barbecue.
There were three Valentinos, which would be interesting to discern. Only two Sofias, thankfully.
A half hour out from our destination, I had Rome back to his usual self. The air of self-loathing and disappointing had vacated his body like an unwanted spirit. I got him prattling on about mundane things and the lighthearted, defaulted jovial nature of Romolo Moretti had finally returned.
I felt warmth blossom in my chest at the sound of his happiness.
A genuine elation spread through me as I realized this.
The sound of Rome’s voice filled me with a kind of joy I only found in a favorite song that reminded me of happier times.
How strange that a newfound love could make me feel nostalgic, as if he had always been there, waiting.
Sure, the perks of Rome’s career and lifestyle were great.
But the essence of him rewarded my soul more than money or things ever could.
Throw it all away. Every penny. Every gift. All the jets and all the cars and all the houses. I just needed him .
I realized then how profoundly I had fallen in love.
“Alex?” Rome said.
Shoot. He had been prattling on. We were on his family’s street, the one I had heard about where half the Moretti clan lived.
I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“Okay, so right here is where my sister Sofia lives…”
Evening had set and all the streetlamps were lit.
Not the harsh telephone pole overhead lighting, but buttery yellow bulbs encased in glass and wrought iron.
Each house had a short front lawn, no more than ten yards deep, with a cobbled walkway leading to the front door.
I assessed the homes using my experience taking photos for real estate agents and knew how a picture from the front of the house alone would sell the place.
Sitting on Narragansett Bay, they had to be at least a million plus apiece.
Rome pointed to a house on the right side and told me to pull into the driveway as he pressed a garage door opener on the underside of the rearview mirror.
The headlights flashed over a newly constructed, three-story Dutch Colonial.
The gray shake siding with white and black-framed windows fit the theme of the street as well as the short gravel drive bringing us into the leftmost bay of a two-car garage.
I cut the engine as the door slid shut behind us. Rome had been smiling as we got out of the car. I popped the trunk.
“Home sweet home,” Rome said.
“How much time do you actually spend here?”
“If we make postseason, usually two months. But the whole family goes back to Sicily for Christmas every year for about two weeks.”
I shook my head. The jetset lifestyle of a wealthy Italian family still amazed me. “Do you ever get out here in the thick of summer though? This would be a great place for a Fourth of July party.”
Rome shrugged as he ascended the three steps from the garage to the door that led into the house.
“If there’s a sufficient break during regular season, sure.
” He paused when his hand touched the doorknob.
He turned and looked back at me. “Why, are you already planning a big ol’ shindig for us next year? ”
I grew a sly, lopsided grin. “I may have a few things in mind.”
Rome chuckled, turned the knob, and pushed inside. An automatic light kicked on.
We entered through the kitchen, a modern layout with a sizable island capped with quartz and high-end appliances with beautiful brushed-gold finishes.
Rome dropped our bags on the island and proceeded through into the open concept first floor comprising a family room with a gas fireplace and large, beige furniture.
He flipped a switch next to the fireplace and it flicked to life with a sudden whoosh .
My mouth dropped open as I blatantly ignored the fireplace and beelined it to the four-window wide wall overlooking the back patio with a stunning view of the sea.
The sliver of a crescent moon hung over the bay with a smattering of stars around it.
I put my hand on the window frame and gave myself a moment.
Million-dollar home. Million-dollar man. Million-dollar view .
Rome slid up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I fell back into him and absorbed the moment as if I could keep it forever.
“How could you ever leave this place?”
“I’ll retire here one day,” he said gently in my ear. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “I am a Rhode Islander through and through.”
“ Rhode Idiots I believe is our New England term,” I said through a light chuckle.
Rome laughed through his nose that was pressed into my hair. It sounded like love. It felt like heaven. “Better than being a Masshole.”
“Hey, that’s a point of pride.” Reluctantly, I spun and tore my eyes from the amazing view to settle on one of equal value. “So, do I get a tour of this little cottage?”
“I could,” Rome said as his hands ran up my sides and cupped the sides of my face. “But there’s only one room I want to go to right now.”
I let him take me by the hand and lead us up a wide three-turn staircase to an open hallway overlooking most of the first floor.
Down a second hallway, we arrived at a closed double door entrance to the primary bedroom.
Rome brought me inside and I had a quick moment to see a vaulted ceiling with recessed lighting that warmed as we entered.
The bedroom had the same view as downstairs only instead of windows there was a set of French doors that led out to a balcony beset with white wooden Adirondacks.
My eyes peeled away as Rome made a sharp turn and into the bathroom where more automatic lights turned on, but he shut them off with a slap to the wall. More white finishes, more gold, more ornate tiling that must have taken a decade to finish.
“I promise I’ll show you everything later,” Rome said as he backed me into the bathroom door that he had closed.
He kissed me something deep, his tongue moving in all the right ways.
My knees went weak and only his body pinned against me kept me on my feet.
When he pulled away, I withered but mustered up the strength to continue to stand.
Rome twirled a knob on the shower, a tiled vault big enough for a party of five.
Four showerheads powered on. He then crossed the bathroom to the far end (yes it was that long) where a massive porcelain tub sat before a large window overlooking the bay.
He pushed several buttons on an LCD screen beside the tub (what the hell was this room?) and the tub spigot sprang to life with water that instantly steamed.
Rome came back to me and tugged off my shirt before I could. “I’ve always wanted to have fun in this room,” he confessed between kisses. “Never found the right person to enjoy it with.”
“This… is… incredible…” his mouth alternated between both sides of my neck, then my nipples. I couldn’t keep my eyes straight let alone speak silly human words .
“Just wait until you see the sauna in the basement. And the swing on the third floor.”
That pulled me back into reality. I had the wherewithal to push him only a fraction off of me. “Wait, what ? A swing- swing? Like a sex swing?”
He shrugged and I saw no shame in his eyes.
“I built this place thinking of what it could be. I…” Ah, there was his shyness creeping through.
“I don’t know what I like because I haven’t tried it all.
And I want to try it all.” Confidence returning.
He undid the button of my pants and slowly lowered the fly.
“I want to try it all with you, Alex. If you want to.”
We finished stripping and he guided our naked bodies to the shower.
Along the way, he hit another switch and all the lighting turned off except for dimmed, amber accent bulbs over the dual-sink mirrors.
Steamy, wet, dark, we slipped into hot jets of water that immediately put everything in me at ease.
I could stand there for hours relaxing. But something else called to my attention.