Chapter Twenty
Twenty
Later that week, Quint took me on a special shopping trip.
I knew Sciacca was known as the queen of Sicilian coral and had dedicated fishermen to extract the rare treasure. The art of creating jewelry from the red-orange coral was a dying art, and I was already mesmerized when I walked into the small shop at the end of a narrow street, deep in the historical part of town.
Quint introduced me to Patrizia, the curator and shop owner. She greeted Quint with a kiss and hug, then spoke to me in perfect English. “Welcome, signorina ! We are so happy to have you here to create your own special jewelry.”
“I appreciate your showing me your beautiful shop,” I said sincerely. Patrizia could have been from New York. She was impeccably dressed in tailored pants and a silk blouse in neutral tones, with her tawny hair twisted up in a knot. It was as if she were a canvas for her own product, and I couldn’t help but appreciate the savvy marketing. Gorgeous teardrop coral accented in gold hung from her earlobes. A coral cross encircled her delicate neck, and a bracelet of coral beads in rich salmon looped in three long ropes.
I immediately wanted all three pieces.
“Let me introduce you to our master jeweler, Stefano. He is the one who takes our ocean treasure and turns it into an art piece.”
I turned to see an older man with a bushy white beard and eyebrows. His tufts of white hair sprouted from his head in a parody of Einstein. He wore yellow-framed glasses, a bright blue button-down shirt, and blue pants. His smile showed off crooked teeth. He exclaimed a string of Italian, motioning around the store with enthusiasm.
Patrizia nodded. “Stefano does not speak English, so I will translate. He is happy to meet you. He will show you how he makes the jewelry and then you can decide what you would like. Right now, he is finishing up a cameo necklace.”
“ Grazie. è un piacere di conoscerti. Mi chiamo Aurora. ”
I bloomed under Stefano’s delighted beam and Quint’s respectful gaze. I tried studying Italian every night and had fun with Quint as he taught me phrases.
Stefano led us over to his workstation, and Patrizia pointed out the various pieces of equipment used to cut the coral. I was fascinated by the patience and care it took to turn the stone into something wearable. Patrizia showed us the different shades of color to the coral and how each piece demanded a specific skill set to reveal the finished product.
The cameo Stefano worked on was a delicate square with the facial impression of a girl’s profile. He wielded a sharp metal tool called a burin to painstakingly cut out the details of the features and coax the delicate face from the coral. He polished the piece with oil and pumice, finishing up with a simple wash and dry. His final step was attaching the gold chain.
Breathless, I traced my fingers over the high shine of orangey red, where a young girl’s face was imprinted on the stone for a piece of immortality. I imagined wearing my mother’s cameo after her death and what it would mean to me. This type of jewelry was so much more than a pretty bauble to take home. It had meaning, from the fishermen who found the rare coral, to Stefano creating the trinket, and Patrizia matching it with the right customer. Hearing the history of Sciacca’s queen jewel gave me goose bumps and a feeling of something significant.
I caught Quint studying my face, as if memorizing each of my expressions. His eyes held a glint of emotion that made me want to move closer to him. A smile touched his lips and he didn’t hesitate to reach over and run a fingertip down my cheek. His voice held an intimate pitch, even with Patrizia and Stefano watching. “Pick something that calls to your heart, bella . Do not let it make sense here.”
His words surprised me. They held no mockery or judgment, just a simple acceptance that showed Quint knew my tendency to use my head rather than any emotional impulses. I liked his being able to see my truth. It was a beautiful exchange, taking place quietly between us.
I walked around the store, chatting occasionally with Patrizia as I viewed the sample pieces. I got to choose the coral color and design, so there was a lot to consider. Finally, I picked out two I fell in love with. One was a cocktail ring with beads of coral arranged tight together. Diamonds were inserted between the beads. It was a bold piece I could imagine wearing on special occasions or when I needed to feel powerful. The band was a delicate gold, allowing the center stones to shine.
I also fell in love with a simple necklace in a darker coral color. Thinly braided ropes formed a crisscross shape that came to a V right at the base of my throat. A heart in filigreed gold nestled at the center of my throat. It reminded me of my mother—richly colored, elegantly simple, and full of history.
“This one,” I finally said, lifting the sample up. “I love it.”
“A beautiful choice. You’ll see this piece is a bit more rare due to the darker color. This means the coral was dug beneath the surface—the deeper you go, the richer the hue,” Patrizia explained.
Quint gestured to the ring. “I like that, too.”
“Yes, but I won’t wear it as much. I’m looking for a more everyday item.”
Quint nodded. “ Sì , the necklace is perfect.”
We smiled at each other. Stefano explained the steps in creating my jewelry, and we spent a few hours watching him work in the shop. The steadiness of his fingers and the intense focus needed to cut and create gave me a new appreciation for the art of jewelry making. After checking with both of them if it was okay, I filmed part of the process and decided I’d write about the experience and pair it with a link to the video. How many people were able to see the intricacies of a master craft like this? Sciacca seemed to be a hidden jewel off the beaten path, and I loved the idea of sharing such a treasure.
I walked out wearing my necklace, a bit buzzed over the excitement of the day and being around Quint. As we strolled, he took my hand in his. My heart sang at the touch of his fingers entwining with mine.
“How was your chat with your babba ?” he asked. “I never got to ask you about it.”
I remembered how afraid I was that my grandfather disapproved of me and Quint. I shook my head with a snort. “We’re getting better. I find once I open up and tell him stuff, he’s a good listener. I was a bit worried about you, though.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Me? Why?”
“I think he saw us together and wanted to know if we were…dating.”
Amusement danced in his voice. “Ah. And what did you tell him?”
“That it was none of his business.”
His obvious shock made me laugh hard, and then he was laughing with me. “You tease me.”
“ Mi dispiace. I couldn’t help myself. He said you were a good man. Many times.”
“It is very important to have the blessing of family. I am glad your grandfather thinks of me so well.”
The playfulness drifted away and I thought of my mother. I wished that somehow there had been a way my grandfather could have listened to my dad and had an open mind. I still felt resentful that neither of them had tried to bridge the gap over the years. After all, I had been the ultimate casualty.
But within this grief, I also didn’t want to keep carrying the anger. What good would it accomplish? It was time for me to be the one to lay down the sword—to accept what was and find a way to move forward. The idea that my grandfather had blessed Quint and me felt right. Even if we were temporary.
Because, very soon, I’d return home. And this romance would be a distant dream.
Suddenly, Quint stopped. Cupping my chin, he turned me toward him, and I blinked in the sun, taking in his deep, dark eyes and carved features and sexy beard that framed his full lips like a gift. “ Mia bella , do not look sad. We have today, and being in your company is…everything.”
“Yes,” I whispered. Our gazes met and locked. He lowered his head and kissed me, sweetly, thoroughly. His words threaded within the kiss, until I felt as precious as the coral in my necklace. When he lifted his head, we smiled at each other like teenagers, half giddy and desperate for contact.
“Let us go eat.”
“To the pub?”
He shook his head. “I want you to myself for a bit. If that is okay?”
“Oh, yes. More than okay.”
We stopped at a small café and sat close, knees pressed together, leaning in to keep the minimum amount of space between us. We drank red wine and ate pizza. I showed him some of my newer posts and shared what I was writing about. He talked about a property he might be interested in buying for his own restaurant—a small beachside café that had potential. The sun sank and we didn’t move, switching to espresso and cannoli, desperate to hear each other’s dreams and secrets and memories. It was late when we finally returned and he dropped me off at my rental, a déjà vu of the night of our first kiss.
How could time move so slowly yet feel so full? How could one day spent with Quint compare to a year with Jason? It made no sense. Normally, the obstacles ahead wouldn’t allow me to move farther. There was no way to make a relationship between us work—I knew this in my gut. My home and life were in New York. His were here.
Yet…
He walked me to my door. I turned and stared into his eyes.
“Aurora?”
My name was a whisper, a prayer, a question.
I stepped off the ledge into the unknown and right into his arms. “Stay with me tonight.”
His forehead pressed to mine. Slowly, he nodded. “ Sì. ”
I opened the door and he followed.
Butterflies danced in my stomach, but I acted calm as I moved to the kitchen. “Water? Wine?” I asked.
“A little wine if you’re having some.”
I grabbed the half bottle of red, poured two glasses, and walked toward him. His gaze locked with mine as he took the glass. “ Salute ,” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
“ Salute ,” I whispered back.
We stared at each other as we both sipped. The tension was like a fine-tuned instrument, held on the razor-thin edge of anticipation, ready to break into a soaring, gorgeous symphony.
“It has been a long time for me.”
Shock barreled through me at his admission. He said the words with no apology or embarrassment, just a simple fact. I shook my head. “When we first met, I figured you were getting action every night of the week.”
His laugh was rich and robust. “So, you thought I was a donnaiolo ?”
My lip quirked. I didn’t need to know the Italian word to gauge the definition. “A womanizer? Playboy? Don Juan? Um—yeah.”
He shook his head, grinning. “No. I am careful who I involve myself with. I am no monk, but my focus has always been Carmella.”
Knowing he’d taken me to meet his sister told me this was bigger than one night. “I like that about you.” I shifted my feet. “I think you need to know that I’m not the type to just jump from one man to another. I’ve been unhappy with Jason for a long time, but it’s not as if I’m afraid of being alone.”
He set his glass down and closed the distance between us. Slowly, he plucked my own glass away and set it next to his. My heart beat rapidly, and I leaned forward so our bodies were inches away, and his masculinity shimmered in waves of heat.
“I know. You are strong, Aurora. But not in the ways you were probably told.”
My breath eased from my lungs as I stared at his carved lips. His words felt important, and I sharpened my focus before I fell under the spell weaving between us. “How do you think I’m strong, Quint?”
His fingers cupped my chin, tilting my head up. Those golden brown eyes burned with a passion and care that made me feel both safe and wanted. “In your heart, amore . Where it counts the most.”
And then he kissed me.
I surrendered to the embrace, opening like a flower under the golden heat of the sun, my arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him close. His scent rose to my nostrils. His lips warmed mine, taking the kiss deeper until heat blistered between us and there was only a long, delicious slide into pleasure. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation or questions as we sank into each other, only a desperate need to be closer and learn his body like I was learning his soul, uncovering each precious inch and secret with joy and abandon.
It was that night I learned the difference between sex and making love, between physical arousal and giving myself to someone fullheartedly, with no regrets or fear.
By morning, I realized Quint was like my love affair with Sicily.
Slowly, he had healed my wounded heart and changed my entire life.