Love Like That

by Sophie Love

  If Elliot’s good mood hinged on her article, she thought sadly, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Did you sleep well, Keira?” Cristiano asked when he collected her from her hotel the next day.

  “Very well,” Keira replied, hearing her own clipped tone.

  Cristiano must have heard it too, because a small crease of confusion appeared between his eyebrows.

  “Are you looking forward to Venice today?” he asked her, as they exited the lobby and began their gentle amble along the cobblestone streets in the direction of the train station.

  She nodded. “I have a lot of work to do, though,” she said. “I may need to use the train journey for writing.”

  “Of course,” Cristiano replied, an air of hesitation in his tone. “Whatever you need.”

  They fell into silence. It was another beautiful sunshiny day in Rome, and the city looked sun-drenched and stunning. Keira was sad to say goodbye to Rome, not just because of how incredible it was as a place but because of the sense of loss she had felt here, the loss of her muse, her giddy sense of romance and inspiration.

  They reached the station and Cristiano took control over finding the platform and train. Keira was relieved that her days of negotiating busy foreign stations were behind her, but she didn’t like to think of Cristiano as just her guide. They had become so much more, even if nothing had happened between them. But now she had put a wall up between them, demoting him from potential suitor to someone there to serve her needs.

  “You are quiet today,” Cristiano said as he stowed Keira’s bag away for her and took a seat beside her on the train.

  Keira felt a sense of guilt and shame. It was unfair for her to blow so hot then immediately so cold. Cristiano clearly had no idea what was going on with her, because he seemed bewildered.

  “I’m sorry,” Keira replied, simply. “I’m just busy. I have a lot to catch up on, and we didn’t get the time to conduct any interviews yesterday.” She thought of Elliot’s request for more romance. “My boss wants more from me, so I’m just feeling a little stressed.”

  “Of course,” Cristiano said, as agreeable and calm as ever. “May I read what you wrote of Capri?”

  Keira paused, hesitant. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” she said, recalling the dreaming lovesick tone that the whole passage was seeped in. If she’d done her job correctly, Cristiano would be able to read between the lines—as she hoped the eventual readers of the piece would also do—and know that she was falling for more than just Italy. The idea of his eyes scanning over those words now made her feel vulnerable, naked, and exposed. She wanted to protect that silly, foolish version of herself, the one that had known no better. “It’s too rough of a draft,” she added. “I hope you understand.”

  “I do,” he replied, simply, but Keira could hear the tone of rejection in his voice.

  “There may be some people willing to be interviewed on the train,” Cristiano suggested.

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Keira replied, recalling the horrible experience in Naples with the couple getting a divorce. She’d learned her lesson the hard way about making assumptions about people!

  But Cristiano looked crestfallen at yet another rejection from her, and Keira felt bad. She relented.

  “Fine, you can find me some lovely romantic couples,” she said, giving in. “That would be very helpful.”

  Cristiano brightened immediately and hurried off in search of a couple for her. He returned a short while later with two people in tow.

  “See,” he proclaimed proudly. “Some residents of Rome who can help you with your article.”

  The couple sat in the seats opposite and, after introducing themselves as Elisabetta and Sergio, Keira began to quiz them on their experiences of living in Rome.

  “How do you feel about Italians being labeled the world’s greatest lovers?” Keira asked them.

  The happy couple laughed.

  “We’re very comfortable with it,” Sergio said. “It’s true, after all.”

  “Is it?” Keira queried. “Is everything here always chocolate and roses?”

  “We have roles,” the woman replied. “If everyone plays their part, things go very well.”

  “What are the parts?” Keira asked, intrigued.

  “The men make the first move,” Elisabetta explained. “They are the hunters, and we, the women, are the hunted.”

  “That sounds a bit old-fashioned,” Keira refuted.

  Sergio laughed. “It is not, though, because the women only think they are prey. In reality, they are the ones with all the power. It’s they who choose their men. We follow them around hoping they will notice us, trying to compete for their attention. But if they don’t want us then we have no chance, there is nothing we can do. An Italian man will be expected to make the first move, yes, but will only do so when he knows the woman wants him to!”

  Keira scribbled everything down, her mind working on overdrive. She couldn’t help but fit this into the context of her and Cristiano. Was it her own hesitance that had caused his? Was it because he couldn’t read her clearly enough that he had made no moves? It was all so complicated, and she knew the way she’d behaved this morning certainly wouldn’t help matters. She’d just made things with him even more confusing.

  “So would you say that is your secret?” Keira asked. “That because you all implicitly understand the rules of the game and the expectations of your gender roles, love can blossom more easily?”

  Sergio pondered her questions. “Amongst other things. We are very straightforward, also. We wear our hearts on our sleeves, complimenting women, being affectionate towards them. There is a lot of flirting. We are not guarded like you Americans. We are more open to love.”

  “Yes,” Elisabetta agreed. “We keep our minds and hearts open, knowing that love can arrive anywhere at anytime. We met in the grocery store.”

  “Really?” Keira exclaimed, raising her eyebrows.

  “That is not unusual here,” Sergio replied. “We have ways of flirting, social conventions that make it very clear to know when someone is or isn’t interested in your advances. People don’t get offended here, so the interactions are always pleasant. Therefore I felt no awkwardness walking up to Elisabetta in the bakery aisle and telling her she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

  Elisabetta gave her husband an admiring glance.

  Sergio’s words had made Keira think of the men on the ferry. They had been incredibly forward, making it very clear that they found her attractive. There had been no ambiguity in the interaction, and Cristiano had been very clear on that as well. Keira wondered if there really was something to all this.

  “So the idea of the Latin lover is really true?” she asked them. “Italian men and women really are more open to love?”

  “Yes, but there is such a thing as too open,” Elisabetta replied with a chuckle.

  “How so?”

  “There are people here who just love loving. Men, in particular.”

  “It’s true,” Sergio agreed. “It takes a long time to learn the difference between attraction and something that could become deeper. It is not uncommon for Italians to have many powerful relationships, declaring their partner The One, only to soon realize that they were wrong. It takes time and patience to know when a romance is really going somewhere. I believe some people are more cautious because of this.”

  As he spoke, Keira found her gaze wandering over to Cristiano. He appeared to be busy with something else but she wondered if he was just trying to distract himself from the topic of conversation. It seemed to Keira that Sergio was essentially describing Cristiano to a tee. He’d had his big love in Maria, and it had turned out to be wrong. He had become cautious as a result, perhaps learning the lesson of older Italian men more quickly than usual.

  “This has all been extremely helpful,” Keira told the happy couple.

  She thanked them and they le
ft. Keira looked over her notes, feeling enlightened, wondering if it was too late to put things right with Cristiano.

  *

  They arrived in Venice to the sound of a church bell tolling in the distance. As they exited the station together, emerging into a slightly cooler fall climate, Keira discovered herself in spitting distance of the water. On the streets, people flowed in one direction like a current, sweeping Keira and Cristiano up and pulling them along. Keira found herself breathless, astounded by the beauty and glamour of the city and the gravity-defying buildings rising from the edge of the Grand Canal. That same blend of different architectural styles she had witnessed in Rome was here as well. From Byzantine, Gothic, Renaissance, Classical, and Baroque, it was a patchwork quilt of history.

  “Where are we heading?” she asked Cristiano, feeling as though she had no choice but to helplessly follow the crowds.

  “Piazzo San Marco,” he explained. “The hub of Venice. Are you ready?”

  Keira wasn’t sure what to make of his comment, but she could see the sparkle of excitement in his eye and knew that whatever she was about to discover would blow her mind even more, if such a thing were possible.

  When they reached the vast square, where music was playing and pigeons pecked crumbs from the ground, she was indeed astounded. The Gothic architecture was a treat to the eye, enchanting and charming at once. There were wine bars all around, filled with lovers exuding romance.

  There were stores here, as well, and Keira noticed several selling masquerade masks. She remembered the Halloween event she and Bryn had attended at Gino’s restaurant and realized now that it had been Venetian inspired.

  It was only then that she remembered Halloween was today. So blown away by Italy was she that her favorite holiday had completely slipped her mind. That she’d be spending it in Venice of all places really did blow her mind.

  “Are there any Halloween parties in the city?” she asked Cristiano, suddenly enthused.

  He looked surprised at the sudden outburst of enthusiasm from her and Keira realized, guiltily, that she’d been difficult company for the last few hours. She felt very bad for him. It must be extremely confusing in comparison to the way Italian women usually behaved.

  “We don’t celebrate Halloween in the same way as you do,” he explained. “Though I’m sure there’ll be an American-style club night happening somewhere in the city. Here, it is tomorrow, November first, that is more important to us. All Saints’ Day. It is a national holiday where we celebrate the Catholic saints. In Italy it was once as important as Christmas. Then November second is All Souls’ day, where we celebrate and remember our dead. There are many events to celebrate these three days, with people in masks, food, flowers, and processions.”

  Keira perked up with excitement. “People wear costumes?”

  “Yes,” Cristiano confirmed. “There is a big costume ball tomorrow night that many people will go to. Is that what you want to do?”

  Keira thought of the ball at Gino’s. That night had been a disaster, but only because she’d been on a date with Glen. On Cristiano’s arm the masquerade ball would have been the most thrilling experience of her life. To get a second chance at it—in Venice, of all places—was like a dream come true.

  Keira clearly failed to keep her expression neutral because Cristiano raised an eyebrow then.

  “I can see that is very much what you would like to do.”

  Keira felt a thrill of excitement rush through her. She could barely contain herself and bit her lip. “If it doesn’t affect our schedule too much,” she said hopefully.

  “Not at all,” Cristiano said. “We can take our gondola ride today instead, that way you’ll be able to be on dry land for all the festivities.”

  Keira leapt up in the air. “Really? We can go to the ball?” she cried, grabbing Cristiano’s hand.

  He laughed. “Of course. If it will make you this happy. Anything for that smile of yours.”

  Keira suddenly remembered herself and, blushing, dropped Cristiano’s hand. But as they walked down the street, heading toward the costume store, Keira felt as though Cristiano was starting to relax again for the first time in a while. She, too, could feel herself shedding the gloom that had followed her around since the evening before, feeling more able to let herself get swept away by romance.

  They headed into a store together and tried on different costumes before finally purchasing black masks with gold trim. They laughed with abandon, and Keira couldn’t help but feel like they were on a date. She wondered if the people around them assumed as much. The thought made her giddy.

  With their costumes ready for tomorrow’s celebration, Cristiano took Keira to the canal and helped her upon a gondola. Keira’s mind instantly conjured up the memory of the last time they’d been in this situation together, in the close confinements of a gondola, their thighs pressing. It had been in the Blue Grotto, the place where fate had first presented her with an opportunity to kiss him. Perhaps this would be another chance, and one she would not miss again.

  To see Venice from the water was a whole new treat for Keira’s eyes. She’d been astounded and somewhat baffled by the construction of the city before, but from this vantage point it was even more incredible. She didn’t understand how such a place was real, how it had been created by human hand. It was an awe-inspiring, almost humbling experience.

  “My Keira,” she heard Cristiano murmur, “always lost in your thoughts.”

  “I feel like this isn’t real,” she told him. “Like I’m dreaming.”

  “Perhaps this is a dream,” he told her. “But you know that dreams do come true. Like wishes.”

  She looked at him then, wondering if he was alluding to the moment at the fountain when they had been about to kiss. She felt the tingle of expectation race through her veins.

  The feeling inside Keira only grew as they spent the next hour in the gondola winding through the canals, from the largest to the tiniest, exploring every nook and cranny Venice had to offer. At times the water was choppy, filed with motorboats, rowing boats, canoes, and gondolas, setting Keira’s pulse racing. She was so enchanted by Venice and so enthralled by the experience of exploring it by boat that it took her by surprise when the sun began to set.

  In the darkening sky, Venice transformed before Keira’s very eyes, turning from a place of fantasy to a city of magic. More than ever, Keira felt like she was in a waking dream. She turned abruptly and looked at Cristiano, her calm but quiet companion.

  “I’m going to kiss you now,” she said boldly.

  Cristiano’s eyebrows shot up. “You are?”

  “If that’s okay,” Keira added, with a shrug.

  “It is,” he replied, still looking shocked.

  Keira raised her hand to his jaw and gently cupped his face, drawing him toward her. To the backdrop of a golden sky, their lips were about to meet.

  Keira felt a surge of sensation racing through her, emanating from the place their bodies connected. She felt alive, awake, powerful. The moment was wonderful, imagining the kiss so soft and passionate.

  The boat suddenly bumped, jerking them apart. She looked at Cristiano, confused, and discovered the gondola had drifted in the water, colliding with the corner of a stone jetty that jutted out into the canal. They laughed together, carefree.

  “Cristiano?” a voice said suddenly.

  Keira looked up, confused, to see that standing on the sidewalk above the jetty, looking down on them, was a beautiful Italian woman. She looked shocked, maybe even a little disgusted by what she was seeing. By Keira.

  Keira recognized the expression on her face instantly, because she herself had worn it before, the moment she discovered Zach was cheating on her. This woman was more than just an acquaintance to Cristiano. She was a lover, quite clearly so.

  The woman began shouting at Cristiano, a barrage of passionate words that Keira couldn’t understand but could certainly get the gist of.

  “Ratto! Bastardo!” As she s
houted, the woman kept flailing an arm toward Keira and jabbing an accusatory finger in her direction. She repeated over and over again, “Chi è questa donna?”

  Cristiano passionately argued back at the woman.

  Keira hunkered down into the gondola, feeling overwhelmed by the altercation. All around them, people turned to stare at the commotion. Keira felt the gaze of many people on her. Some were whispering behind their hands, others pointing, others looking startled and gasping, covering their mouths, their eyes wide.

  Even though she couldn’t understand their words, Keira could see the passion on Cristiano’s and the woman’s faces. She could see the judgment in the eyes of everyone around them, the people who could understand what the woman was shouting. It was clear as day to her that this woman was Cristiano’s girlfriend. And that made her, Keira, the other woman.

  Startled, Keira leapt to her feet. She needed to get away from this commotion.

  Cristiano turned and reached for her, but Keira just wanted to get away. She pulled herself free. The gondola rocked beneath her and, in her emotional state, Keira suddenly lost her footing.

  She tumbled back over the side of the gondola, falling into the water. A huge wave of displaced water shot up into the air, drenching anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. Keira, shocked by the sudden turn of events, floundered toward the jetty. It felt like a million eyes were on her, and with the number of tourists who’d witnessed the moment Keira wondered whether that figure was actually correct.

  “Keira, stop!” Cristiano cried. “Where are you going?”

  But Keira was humiliated, soaked through, bedraggled. She didn’t want to hear any kind of excuse from Cristiano about the woman, his lover, and she certainly didn’t want to be here anymore, in public, the subject of the whispers and giggles of onlookers. She clambered onto the jetty, pushing past the mysterious woman whose unexpected appearance had triggered the whole embarrassing fiasco.

  Not knowing where she was going, Keira ran, taking the first alley she could, her feet pounding against the cobblestone ground as fast as her heart pounded against her ribcage.