Chapter 8 #2
He—finally—laughed.
Gosh.
I loved that sound. So much.
I quickly rolled up our pictures together. “Okay, where to next?”
When I turned my head, I saw Stefan speaking to the artist and handing him a large tip.
You didn't have to speak Italian to see how appreciative the artist was. At first, he stuck his hands out, refusing Stefan's offer. But Stefan spoke to him and nodded at me. Finally, the artist accepted the tip and said, “Grazie, grazie,” over and over again.
My belly did a little squeezy flip.
After that, Stefan turned and grabbed my hand. When we walked out into the crowd, they parted for us—
And clapped.
Cheers of, “Brava!” surrounded us.
“I mean, you tip well. But this seems a little extreme,” I said to Stefan as he guided me through the crowd.
He laughed. “They're praising your artistry. Not my tip.”
Huh.
Now that I paid attention, I saw what he was talking about. Their eyes were definitely on me. One woman even touched my arm and spoke to me in Italian. I looked at Stefan to translate. “She says she wants to buy the pictures and the eggs from you.”
That made me giggle. “For real? Or are you teasing me?”
Stefan shook his head. “For real. She's offering a good price.”
When he told me how much she wanted to give me, I was more than surprised. “Can you thank her for me? But tell her the pictures are not for sale.”
He gave me a smirk and a nod. The woman seemed disappointed after he refused her offer. But she smiled at me.
The next table we stopped at had delicious looking pastries. Stefan bought us a couple, and I couldn't wait to bite into it.
“These are cornettos. It's best with a cappuccino.” He jerked his head to the next booth where they were serving the drinks. He bought us each a cappuccino and then said, “Let's grab a table.” We found a free one. The tables were tall, and there were no chairs, so we stood.
He handed me a cornetto and a cappuccino.
“Thanks,” I said and immediately bit into the light, crunchy cream-filled pastry.
“Mm,” I said. “This is wonderful.” The fluffy, creamy center was out of this world fantastic.
Like nothing I'd ever tasted before. I took a sip of my cappuccino, and that, too, was wonderful.
“Your mom's right. The cappuccino here is way better.”
Stefan sipped from his, too, and smiled at me. “According to my mother, everything is better here.”
I looked at his handsome face. “And what do you think?”
My eyes watched as he licked the cream off his lips. Why was that so sexy?
“I agree with her. My mother's usually right about everything.” He pointed his pastry at me. “Do not ever tell her I said that.”
A small laugh burst out of me. “I promise.”
We ate and drank in silence for a minute or two until I bit my lip and stared at him. Stefan was so good-looking. Devastatingly handsome. And he was with—me.
That still didn't make sense. At all.
“What's going on inside that beautiful head of yours, Francesca? I worry about what you're thinking when you're quiet.”
I rolled my eyes and took another sip from my cup. “I was wondering how mad you are at me. Over my fabulous portrait.” Okay, it wasn't exactly a lie. I also wanted to know the answer to this question. “Like, from one to ten? Ten being—super angry.”
He huffed out a laugh and bit into his pastry. More cream on his lips.
More licking it off.
Yum.
I was glad he couldn't see me clench down below.
“Oh, you'll find out later, Francesca.” He picked up his cappuccino and grinned. “At least your ass will.”
A much harder, deeper clench instantly took me by surprise at his promise of what was to come.
I ignored his comment—or at least I tried to. I picked up my pastry and bit into it. But before I could lick my lips, Stefan leaned down. “Let me,” he said, and proceeded to lick my lips and kiss me. “There,” he said, and straightened. “All better.”
Things—were tingling.
A lot of things.
But I just squeezed my thighs together and pretended I wasn't thinking about Stefan licking other parts of my body like that.
Anyway—
After we finished our sweet breakfast, we wandered around some more. There were so many different things to see. Everything from pottery, to flowers—to books.
We stopped at a large booth. It was a lot bigger than the others. Stefan started talking with a man behind the table. I wasn't sure what they were saying, obviously. But they seemed to be in a deep discussion about something.
I continued browsing down the long tables. There were so many pretty things.
A woman came over to me and spoke Italian. I shook my head. “I only speak English, sorry.”
She smiled. “Ah, that is fine. Is there anything I can help you with?”
I shrugged and looked back at the table. “I'm not sure yet,” I said, my eyes scanning everything in front of me. The woman made small talk with me while I browsed. I looked up a few times and saw Stefan still speaking with the man. I wondered if he knew him.
I was almost finished looking at everything when something caught my eye.
“Oh, that's interesting.” I pointed to a ring. It was so distinctly male.
So distinctly—Stefan.
“Ah, this baroque style?” The woman picked it up and handed it to me. It was a black ring with thin strips of decorative gold filligree around the edges. And in the middle, there was a gorgeous gold Baroque design all around it.
It was perfect for him.
“You like this. Yes?”
I bit my lip and nodded. It looked like real gold, though. And I was pretty sure I didn't have enough money. “How much is it?” I asked, scared to hear her answer.
She grinned at me and nodded her head to where Stefan was standing. “Are you here with him?”
Stefan and the man were still talking. “Yes, he's my husband.” It felt—odd—using that word.
But it also felt—right.
“Husband?” Her eyebrows shot up, and her jaw dropped open.
“Um, yep,” I said cautiously. She seemed more than a little surprised at what I'd said.
“Congratulazioni,” she said, and then closed my hand over the ring, like she wanted me to hide it or something. Then she turned and yelled something in Italian to the man talking to Stefan.
The man looked just as surprised as the woman. He congratulated me, too. And then Stefan.
Stefan gave me a smile and went back to talking with the man.
“Why don't we say,” she narrowed her gaze at me, “fifty euros.” Her eyes darted to my basket of eggs. “And your eggs. Are they fresh?”
I laughed softly. “You can't get any fresher.” I gratefully handed over the basket.
“The girl who comes with her eggs didn't show up today. This is good timing for me.”
I pulled out my wallet and gave her one of the several fifty-euro bills in there. Stefan had really gone overboard. “Why do I feel like it's worth a lot more than that?” I asked skeptically. This was not the way to bargain with someone, but it still felt wrong to me.
The woman laughed loudly. “Value is all perception. No? Besides, I am the owner. I make the prices, sì?”
I could ask Stefan what to do. But I kind of wanted to surprise him with the ring. He'd done so much for me. There was no way in the world I could ever repay him.
Besides, maybe I was wrong, and the ring was only worth two euros—and it would end up turning his finger green or something.
“And if in the future you need more jewelry of any kind, then you come to us.”
I smiled at her. “Of course.” I had a thought. “Oh, and can you do me a favor and not tell my husband I bought this? I want to surprise him later.”
She smiled and then covertly looked at Stefan and the man he was talking to.
Then she grabbed something off the table and wrapped it around my wrist. “If he asks what you bought, then you show him this.” She fastened the clasp, and I saw what she'd put on my wrist. It was a beautiful, braided gold bracelet.
“Oh, okay. How much is it?” I asked, really, really, really sure I definitely didn't have enough money for this. It was beautiful.
She shook her head. “For you? Nothing. Just take care of your new husband. He's a good man.” Then she stuck her hand out. “I'm Renata, by the way. I should have introduced myself earlier.”
I shook her hand and said, “I'm Francesca.”
She squeezed my hand in hers. “Nice to meet you, Francesca. You're a very lucky woman. I hope you know that.”
She let go of my hand. “I know exactly how lucky I am. Thank you for the bracelet. And the ring,” I whispered. Stefan shook hands with the man and started walking over.
“What did you buy, wife?” Stefan asked playfully. He seemed happy. Pleased, even.
I held out my wrist for him to see.
“Very nice. You have great taste. But I already knew that.” He grinned at me and gave me a quick kiss. Then he thanked Renata for her help, and we went on our way.
We walked around for a long time. I picked up a few small things, and then we stopped to watch some street performers.
I had a lot of fun. We were sitting on a bench, listening to a musician sing and play on his guitar. Stefan translated the low, mournful words to me. It was about love found—and love lost.
Pretty typical love song material. But the words—and the musician's voice—touched me. I felt myself get all teary for the real—or imaginary—couple it was about.
Stefan noticed and pulled me closer. He kissed the top of my head and pulled something out of his pocket. “These are for you,” he whispered and handed me a small, white jewelry box.
“You didn't have to get me anything,” I said, suddenly feeling annoyed.
Stefan gave me a stern look. “I know that.”
I sighed and held up the box. “But you did it, anyway.”
He inhaled deeply, “Are you going to start this again?”
I rolled my eyes and handed the box back to him. “Are you?” I said a little sassier than I'd intended. “We were having a perfectly nice time. And then you do this.” I handed the box back to him.
He'd barely taken the box back from me when he stood. “Get up,” was all he said sharply. “We're going.”
Good grief.