Roman Crazy
Page 45
During the ride from my bus stop to the villa earlier this morning, I had concocted a plan. After passing an incredible market on the way in to work this morning, I also spotted a cheese shop, a wine shop, and a bakery, all within thirty steps of the bus stop.
“I was thinking of making dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?”
“Mm-hmm, Daisy’s flying out tonight, I’ll be alone.” I held my breath. “Want to come?”
“Just tell me what time,” he replied.
I told him anytime after seven and hung up with a secret smile on my face.
* * *
“I MIGHT USE YOUR LUGGAGE. It’s so much nicer than mine,” Daisy teased, running a hand across the leather. She flicked open the lock and examined the smooth interior. “Definitely using it. Then it guarantees you’ll really be here when I come back.”
“Of course I’ll be here.” I blinked at her innocently. “I’d never leave without my Vuitton luggage.”
She slapped me on the arm. “I’m serious. I travel so much, but I’ve never had someone waiting for me when I got back. It’s kind of nice.”
Daisy the globetrotter was off on a late flight to Amsterdam tonight, bidding on her next project. Who knew when she’d be back. Just last night I was raving about her nomadic lifestyle, but this put her life into a new perspective for me. Sure she had work friends here. but what’s left of her family was back in Boston, and her visits back to the States had gotten less and less frequent over the years.
“Makes you want to find a nice gorgeous Italian man to settle down with, doesn’t it,” I said, arching my eyebrow at her.
“I think you’ve got the nice and gorgeous on lock. I’m in no hurry for either. Besides, I’ve got you. Speaking of nice and gorgeous, any plans while I’m gone? You’ve got a lot of nonwork hours to fill. Whatever will you do?”
I evaded, not because I didn’t want to tell her, but because I didn’t want to jinx anything. “Subtle. I was thinking of some day trips; Florence, Bologna, maybe Milan for a weekend.” I paused, hearing the actual words I was saying. “What is this life?”
“Don’t question it. You deserve every ounce of happiness that this country brings you. P.s., I hear Marcello loves Milan.”
“What’s another word for subtle?” I asked. “Hey, no way!” I cried as she starting pulling my matching duffel bag from my closet. “If you’re taking all my fantastic luggage, I’m keeping this.”
“For weekend trips—”
“For weekend trips,” I said, giddy at the thoughts of planning them. I wasn’t limited to Italy, either. I could revisit Spain. Pop over to Paris. Explore Greece. The sky was the limit. I just hoped that he’d be free—and interested—to join me. But what would that entail? I know what weekends away with Marcello used to mean: lots and lots of naked times. Is that still what it meant? Was I ready for that?
I was pulled out of my thoughts by Daisy, packed and ready to go.
“Don’t get into any trouble while I’m in Amsterdam,” Daisy teased, grabbing her purse and keys. “I worry, leaving you home all alone.”
“I’ll be fine, Mother.”
“Whatever will you do while I’m away . . .”
When the door clicked shut, I jumped from the couch and danced to the table to find my phone to call Marcello. I danced, shimmied, and sang his name. There may have been some humming. It may have been “Let’s Get It On.”
“I can hear you,” she shouted from the stairwell. “You can at least have the decency to wait until I leave before calling your boooooyfriend.”
I swung open the door. With wide-eyed innocence, I said, “How’d you know I was calling your dad?”
She mock-gagged. “Unfair!”
“Be safe. Love you!”
When she disappeared around the corner, I closed the door, leaning against it. The phone was clutched in my hands and my nerves were climbing like vines to wrap themselves around my lungs. I had a pretty good idea of what might happen when he came over, and for the life of me I couldn’t find one reason to not to do exactly that.
I took one more breath, then called to let him know that Daisy had left the building.
With barely one ring, he answered with an out of breath, “Pronto.”
“Hey, am I interrupting you?”
He cleared his throat. “Hey to you, and no, you are not interrupting me. How are you?”
“I’m good. Uh . . . Daisy just left.”
“I see,” he said quietly.
“Do you still want to come over? We could you know . . . hang out.”
“Hang out?”
“Yeah, you know hang out. Board games, Netflix, and chill.”
“Board games?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“And dinner, you didn’t forget I said I’d make dinner.”
“I have not.”
Everything south of my teeth clenched, tightened, and sang “Hallelujah” in anticipation. “I went shopping this afternoon. I have ingredients.”
“I like ingredients.”
“How’s an hour? That’ll give me time to get things going in the kitchen.” And reshave my legs, loofah my entire body. Slather myself in that blood orange lotion I bought at the fancy Italian soap shop. As you do.
“That might be a problem.”
My heart sank. I didn’t consider there being a hiccup. “Oh, okay,” I said, trying to sound unaffected. “Just come over whenever you can.”
“I was thinking of making dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?”
“Mm-hmm, Daisy’s flying out tonight, I’ll be alone.” I held my breath. “Want to come?”
“Just tell me what time,” he replied.
I told him anytime after seven and hung up with a secret smile on my face.
* * *
“I MIGHT USE YOUR LUGGAGE. It’s so much nicer than mine,” Daisy teased, running a hand across the leather. She flicked open the lock and examined the smooth interior. “Definitely using it. Then it guarantees you’ll really be here when I come back.”
“Of course I’ll be here.” I blinked at her innocently. “I’d never leave without my Vuitton luggage.”
She slapped me on the arm. “I’m serious. I travel so much, but I’ve never had someone waiting for me when I got back. It’s kind of nice.”
Daisy the globetrotter was off on a late flight to Amsterdam tonight, bidding on her next project. Who knew when she’d be back. Just last night I was raving about her nomadic lifestyle, but this put her life into a new perspective for me. Sure she had work friends here. but what’s left of her family was back in Boston, and her visits back to the States had gotten less and less frequent over the years.
“Makes you want to find a nice gorgeous Italian man to settle down with, doesn’t it,” I said, arching my eyebrow at her.
“I think you’ve got the nice and gorgeous on lock. I’m in no hurry for either. Besides, I’ve got you. Speaking of nice and gorgeous, any plans while I’m gone? You’ve got a lot of nonwork hours to fill. Whatever will you do?”
I evaded, not because I didn’t want to tell her, but because I didn’t want to jinx anything. “Subtle. I was thinking of some day trips; Florence, Bologna, maybe Milan for a weekend.” I paused, hearing the actual words I was saying. “What is this life?”
“Don’t question it. You deserve every ounce of happiness that this country brings you. P.s., I hear Marcello loves Milan.”
“What’s another word for subtle?” I asked. “Hey, no way!” I cried as she starting pulling my matching duffel bag from my closet. “If you’re taking all my fantastic luggage, I’m keeping this.”
“For weekend trips—”
“For weekend trips,” I said, giddy at the thoughts of planning them. I wasn’t limited to Italy, either. I could revisit Spain. Pop over to Paris. Explore Greece. The sky was the limit. I just hoped that he’d be free—and interested—to join me. But what would that entail? I know what weekends away with Marcello used to mean: lots and lots of naked times. Is that still what it meant? Was I ready for that?
I was pulled out of my thoughts by Daisy, packed and ready to go.
“Don’t get into any trouble while I’m in Amsterdam,” Daisy teased, grabbing her purse and keys. “I worry, leaving you home all alone.”
“I’ll be fine, Mother.”
“Whatever will you do while I’m away . . .”
When the door clicked shut, I jumped from the couch and danced to the table to find my phone to call Marcello. I danced, shimmied, and sang his name. There may have been some humming. It may have been “Let’s Get It On.”
“I can hear you,” she shouted from the stairwell. “You can at least have the decency to wait until I leave before calling your boooooyfriend.”
I swung open the door. With wide-eyed innocence, I said, “How’d you know I was calling your dad?”
She mock-gagged. “Unfair!”
“Be safe. Love you!”
When she disappeared around the corner, I closed the door, leaning against it. The phone was clutched in my hands and my nerves were climbing like vines to wrap themselves around my lungs. I had a pretty good idea of what might happen when he came over, and for the life of me I couldn’t find one reason to not to do exactly that.
I took one more breath, then called to let him know that Daisy had left the building.
With barely one ring, he answered with an out of breath, “Pronto.”
“Hey, am I interrupting you?”
He cleared his throat. “Hey to you, and no, you are not interrupting me. How are you?”
“I’m good. Uh . . . Daisy just left.”
“I see,” he said quietly.
“Do you still want to come over? We could you know . . . hang out.”
“Hang out?”
“Yeah, you know hang out. Board games, Netflix, and chill.”
“Board games?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“And dinner, you didn’t forget I said I’d make dinner.”
“I have not.”
Everything south of my teeth clenched, tightened, and sang “Hallelujah” in anticipation. “I went shopping this afternoon. I have ingredients.”
“I like ingredients.”
“How’s an hour? That’ll give me time to get things going in the kitchen.” And reshave my legs, loofah my entire body. Slather myself in that blood orange lotion I bought at the fancy Italian soap shop. As you do.
“That might be a problem.”
My heart sank. I didn’t consider there being a hiccup. “Oh, okay,” I said, trying to sound unaffected. “Just come over whenever you can.”
