Blossom in Winter

by Melanie Martins

  “I’m sorry. I forgot Roy is not at home.” He seems to be texting someone quickly, then looks back at me. “What if we go somewhere and have dinner? Do you remember that small Italian-American bistro in Soho with the amazing chocolate cake and strawberry milkshakes?”

  “Galli? I haven’t been there in ages. And it was more accurately a warm fondant brownie with coffee ice cream.” I lick my lips, picturing that dessert. “For sure, the best in town.”

  “Would you like to go there?”

  “What a question.”

  Having dinner like in the good old days with my godfather is beyond anything I could have imagined. I love Italian food, more precisely Galli, which is where I used to go with him ten years ago. At the time, he’d order spaghetti alla bolognese, followed by the warm brownie. He also used to order a special strawberry milkshake for me. Each time he would ask, they would reply, “We don’t usually have strawberry milkshakes, but for such an adorable child, we can make an exception.” My face would beam with joy every time the waiter would say that. This time is no exception—Alex orders exactly that.

  “We don’t usually have strawberry milkshakes,” replies the beautiful Italian waitress.

  “I used to come here with my goddaughter ten years ago, and since she couldn’t drink alcohol, they would prepare it.”

  “Oh, she’s your goddaughter?”

  I nod, putting on my most childlike face.

  “Correct,” Alex replies with a charming smile.

  “I’m sure we can do something for her.”

  “You are delightful. What’s your name?”

  “Isabella.”

  “Wonderful name, Isabella.”

  She blushes at the sound of his voice.

  “Are you from here?” he asks.

  “No, I’m from Sicily, Palermo. I just moved to New York.”

  “New York is very lucky to have you.”

  Isabella replies with a grin, her cheeks flushed.

  I must say, I’m quite entertained observing my godfather flirting with someone. “A heartbreaker,” as Rach and Jess would say. Well, sounds quite accurate. I wonder if he’ll be the same in Rome. My lips twitch into a smile as I picture him flirting, but this time in Italian. To my surprise, though, I can’t picture him doing that with anyone...

  But me.

  Petra! I immediately brush such thoughts away.

  While we finish our main course, I look pensively at the last bit of spaghetti on my plate. “I know why you left,” I declare. “I spoke to Dad…” It’s so hard to talk about it though. “I also owe you an apology.” I look up at him, but I’ve got to lower my gaze again. “I’m… I’m really sorry for the embarrassment I caused. I feel terrible.”

  “Petra, it’s all forgotten.” He reaches for my hand; the corners of my mouth lift timidly at his touch. I look again into his blue eyes and try hard not to get lost in them. Oh boy. “You were just a child. Don’t worry about it.” He pauses. “Honestly, I found it cute.”

  I burst into laughter. “Only you would say something like that.” I shake my head, beaming with joy. “It wasn’t cute. Rather embarrassing. Very embarrassing. I’m so sorry for Amanda...”

  “It’s all good, really. Don’t worry about it.” God, his smile is enough to heat up the entire room. “So, am I forgiven now?”

  “Of course you are.” I giggle at his question. “What about me?”

  “Hmm… Only if you promise not to call my next girlfriend a witch.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  We both laugh.

  “Speaking of girlfriends—”

  “I’m not into girls, no,” I interpose playfully.

  “I figured that out. Look, in Rome, just be careful, alright? Mainly with Andrew. Neither your dad nor I will be there to protect you.”

  What? You’re not joining us? My heart skips a beat. But who’ll be there to eat a traditional gelato with me while exploring the Piazza di Trevi? Who’ll be there to make me laugh? Who’ll be there to hold and kiss my hands and make me feel so special and safe? Andrew? Yuck! Definitely not!

  Hmm... I’ve suddenly got a plan.

  “Well, I find him cute,” I say, taking a sip of my strawberry milkshake. This’ll be fun. I wait patiently for his reaction.

  “Who? Andrew?”

  “Yes. Andrew Sullivan.”

  “Petra, forget it. Andrew is definitely not a good fit for you.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “First, he is way too old. Do you know how old is he? At least thirty-three.”

  “And you are forty, yet so many young girls are into you. Look at Emma.”

  “Emma is definitely not a role model to follow,” he snaps.

  “I don’t think Andrew sees it as a problem either…”

  “He’s a real douchebag!” I try hard to suppress a victorious smile. His concerns about Andrew are even more palpable than I expected. “Promise me you’ll behave in Rome.”

  I take another sip with amusement. “We’ll see.”

  “Who ordered the warm chocolate brownie?” asks Isabella staring at him.

  “It’s for her.”

  Isabella bends slightly over the table, putting her cleavage on display for Alex. Looks like she wants him to stare. She places the brownie in front of me and a spoon in front of Alex, handing him a napkin. “I brought you an extra spoon in case you want a taste. And here’s a napkin.” She winks at him before leaving.

  Discreetly, he opens the white paper napkin to find her phone number written down. A cheeky smile settles on his lips, and I find myself mirroring it.

  “You’re such a heartbreaker, Mr. Van Dieren,” I tease as usual, head shaking.

  “What can I do?” He puts the napkin in his pocket. “Too many desperate women in Manhattan…”

  “Of course, poor you. Trying to save them all.” I can’t help but laugh. “Were you like that with Amanda?”

  He cringes at the question. “Relationships are complex, Petra…”

  “Or you are complex?”

  He exhales loudly in return. “Maybe. Well, eat your brownie before it gets cold.”

  I take my spoon, look down at my prey already melting, and attack my defenseless brownie, taking a first mouthful.

  “How is it?”

  “Mmmm…” I utter, savoring the brownie as it dissolves in my mouth. “The best thing in the world,” I garble. “Oh, sorry. Do you want to try some?”

  He chuckles, reaches out to the corner of my lips with his thumb, and wipes some chocolate crumbs away. Then he puts his fingertip in his mouth, closes his eyes for an instant, and smiles. “You are right, Petra. The best thing in the world.”

  “Here we are,” announces the driver, pulling up to my building’s entrance.

  Painfully for me, this means the end of my evening. I sigh in discontentment. After all, I don’t even know if he’ll be joining me in Rome or not. I just hope my little plan will work. Seated in the back seat with Alexander, in a decisive but risky move, I slide my body close to his, incline my head, and give him a tender kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for the brownie. It was delicious,” I murmur with a gentle voice.

  But he looks quite upset and grabs my hand right before I leave. “Petra,” he calls suddenly, his tone deep and severe.

  “Yes?”

  “Kindly don’t do that again.”

  “Do what?”

  “Kiss me on the cheek.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so,” he snarls back.

  “You greet every girl this way, why not me?”

  Alex lets out a breath, displeased with my typical curiosity and stubbornness, but I wait patiently for his answer.

  “I prefer not to have your mouth too close to mine. Can you do that?”

  Wow. It seems like only the truth wanted to come out. Amusement twinkles in my eyes and plays with the corners of my lips. I must admit, it’s my guiltiest pleasure to make him feel vulnerable. Alex has alwa
ys looked so confident, so tough, so rugged, so unshakeable with his “aristocratic playboy” attitude and his piercing blue eyes. Having the power to make him fall from his pedestal with a simple gesture of tenderness feels too divine to stop. The more he says not to, the more I want to come closer and kiss him again. But instead, leaving my imagination behind, I politely nod and leave the car.

  Alexander Van Dieren

  I should have been happy and delighted to see little Lucy waiting for me naked upon my arrival, kneeling in the hallway of my condo, as always. But my mood is not as playful as I expected. After all, Petra will be in Rome for three nights, far from everyone and dangerously close to Andrew… Damn, that guy is a real douchebag. And she seems to like him. How? Well, they spent three months working in the same office, after all… I bet Andrew is already planning something in Rome with her. And they are staying in the same hotel. I shiver picturing them. Fuck. This time I won’t even be around...

  “My lord? Everything alright?”

  I look down at Lucy, kneeling just in front of me while I rest on the sofa holding her leash. She wanted to suck me, but I told her I was tired.

  It takes between eight and nine hours to get to Rome, maybe if I get a flight in the afternoon… I sigh. Why am I even so worried? Petra is nearly an adult… But I did promise her no one would ever hurt her again. And a long time ago, I also gave her that necklace… I should give it back to her actually…

  “My lord?”

  I blink again at the sound of Lucy’s voice and let out a sigh. “I have a lot on my mind today,” I snap.

  “Maybe I can help you relax…” Lucy lets her words trail off as she tries for the second time to unfasten my belt. I want to decline again, but it’d be selfish. I’ve already rescheduled with her so many times. I take a deep breath and brush my thoughts away. “Show me, then.”

  Chapter 11

  Teterboro, August 27, 2019

  Petra Van Gatt

  “Let’s take a group photo. Williams! Don’t be shy,” shouts Andrew while a member of the crew holds up his iPhone, ready to capture the moment.

  I hate photos, but what can I say? I join the group and try to put on a smile, but I can’t compete with the excitement of my colleagues, who are all dressed up like successful executives for the sake of traveling in a Gulfstream G650.

  We are leaving at eight a.m. from Teterboro—a small private airport but definitely the closest one to downtown Manhattan, just across the George Washington Bridge. I usually travel from here to go to Rotterdam, as it’s less than a twenty-five-minute drive from home.

  Jess can’t hide her enthusiasm as she steps onto the plane. Her gaze alights on the comfortable beige leather seats, the perfumed wet towel handed to her, and the champagne already being poured by the friendly female crew. “I’m loving finance. Rach, please take a pic of me for Instagram. Get the seat and the window too.”

  In fact, Jess has gone overboard in getting ready for the trip: ivory pantsuit, beige pumps, red lipstick, and some gold jewelry, which makes her look even older than usual. I roll my eyes. Pathetic.

  I can’t enjoy the trip. After all, Alexander is nowhere to be seen. Maybe I should have scared him further about Andrew...

  Speaking of Andrew, here he is entertaining his other interns by doing a photoshoot with them in the jet, which will undoubtedly be shared on social media in the next few minutes. “Williams, would you like a picture with your glass of champagne?” he asks.

  “No, it’s okay. Thank you.”

  “Petra doesn’t have social media,” adds Rach.

  Jess gapes in shock. “What? You’re kidding. Not even Instagram?”

  “No. Just WhatsApp.”

  The pilot and the cabin supervisor step in and greet Andrew before welcoming the rest of the group. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Richard Heinze, and I will be the pilot onboard this flight, destination Ciampino Airport, Rome. The flight duration is expected to be between eight and nine hours. If the weather remains stable, we should arrive by ten p.m. local time, four p.m. Eastern Standard Time. If you have any questions, please ask my colleague, Sabrina, who is supervising the cabin crew. I wish you all a very pleasant flight.”

  We all smile and thank the pilot for his message, but he stares especially at me and nods. I look down, hoping no one else noticed.

  While everyone is discussing their plans for Rome, how to retire at the age of fifty, and whether it would be worthwhile to own a plane, I excuse myself and retreat to the beige leather sofa at the very back of the cabin with my book and noise-canceling earbuds.

  “What’s wrong, Williams? Everyone seems excited about Rome but you. Are you missing your desk already?” teases Andrew, sitting beside me on the sofa.

  Although I’m annoyed at being disturbed, I remove my earbuds out of politeness. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I just like to be in my corner and read.”

  But Andrew’s feeling chatty. “Is it your first time abroad?”

  “No, I’ve been abroad many times. I’m alright, really.” I conclude with a polite smile, my eyes shifting back to my book, yet Andrew seems to be studying me.

  “If you want to talk, I’m here. I know you like to play tough, but we are all human. We all have our ups and downs.”

  Wow. It doesn’t sound like Andrew at all. His tone is more caring, empathetic, sensitive, and compassionate. Heck, it even feels quite reassuring.

  “I’m just…” I let out a breath. “I’m missing a guy in New York, and he is not even my boyfriend...”

  “See? Was that so hard to get off your chest?”

  “A bit.”

  “Glad to know there is more than work in your life. I thought you had a heart made of stone.”

  “Well, the worst part is, he’s not even interested in me. We are just friends. He has tons of gorgeous women around him anyway…” I look down, thoughtful. “I just hope this trip will help me forget him.” Oops! I feel like I’ve just said too much.

  Andrew swallows hard and leans slightly closer to me. “If you feel like talking about it, I’m free the last evening before we come back. We can have dinner somewhere nice… I mean, just a friendly one—nothing else.”

  I don’t know what to say. Is he bluffing? Or does he have some twisted intention in mind? I can’t tell. However, I do recall Alex warning me.

  “Thanks for the invite,” I politely reply before reopening my book.

  He sighs, maybe disappointed, but finally leaves.

  Even at ten p.m., Rome is a cauldron of heat. A warm breeze welcomes Andrew and his interns as we step down from the plane and head to the three black executive Mercedes waiting right in front of us on the tarmac.

  “Feels so good to be back.” Andrew takes a deep breath and gets into the first car.

  We make our way to the St. Regis, a landmark in the downtown featuring a nineteenth-century elevator—the oldest in Italy (and still functioning).

  As we arrive, Jess and Rach have already taken out their smartphones to take pictures of the hotel entrance—on the left the beautiful marble stairs, and on the right, the reception where Andrew’s handling our check-in. They walk toward a sumptuous, imperial-inspired grand lobby. It’s styled with gray tones from the marble walls and chess-patterned floor to the sofas. The carpets and pillows have a touch of gold, and there’s an opulent crystal chandelier at the center of the hand-painted ceiling. A perfect mixture of modern luxury and classic grandeur. Jess and Rach sit on one of the sofas, while Luke does his best to get the perfect angle for their pics.

  “Have you seen this place, Williams?” shouts Jess, as I’m still standing at the entrance.

  “It looks very nice.”

  Andrew joins us with our key cards in hand. “Alright, everyone. Here are the key cards for your respective rooms. We’ll meet tomorrow for breakfast at seven o’clock, and at eight thirty, I want you all in the Ritz Ballroom, where the conference will begin. No one should be late, and you should all be in a good mood and
ready to be sociable. Don’t forget you represent the company. Consider this still part of your internship.” He stares particularly at me, known for being tardy and quite reserved. “Very well. I wish you all a great night. Buonanotte, folks.”

  My bedroom is modern, elegant, and spacious, decorated in imperial gray tones with a high ceiling and curtains tied back with a sash. I look out through the window; I’ve got a nice view down to the street, still full of locals and lovers hand-in-hand strolling around, enjoying the warm breeze of the night. I let out a sigh. With my mind flying away, I can’t help but picture myself out there with him… Damn, so silly you are, girl!

  Indeed, he’s my godfather and friend—that’s it. Plus, let’s face it—tonight he’ll most likely be out partying with some random chick in New York… Which is how it should be!

  I check my WhatsApp out of curiosity. He’s online, but sadly, not for me. And why would he, huh? We never engage in trivial chats anyway. Maybe I should text him and let him know I’ve arrived safely… No, he didn’t even bother to ask. Dad at least texted me twice.

  Okay, enough. I have to focus, get some sleep, and be at my best for tomorrow. After all, Andrew was quite clear: this is still part of our internship and a social attitude is expected—exactly what I hate the most.

  Since there’s no Janine to wake me up at six a.m., I call reception and book a wake-up call. Then I plunge into my bed, close my eyes, and force myself to sleep.

  I start having dreams I shouldn’t. Mostly dreams about a man I shouldn’t even think of. But those dreams are rather sweet; they taste like candy. Or, from the heat rising between my legs, like that warm brownie…

  You are right, Petra. The best thing in the world.

  When I arrive for breakfast, I realize all the interns are already here indulging in the buffet. Inseparable Jess and Rach are alone at a table by themselves. I manage to make it down at 7:10, the last one. Fortunately, I don’t see Andrew around. Everyone has made quite an effort with their appearances, looking so sharp and expensive, straight from a fashion magazine. Jess opted for a light-blue pantsuit with a white silk top and beige pumps, impeccable hair and makeup combined with a Bulgari purse, while Rach wears wide-leg beige pants and a white shirt.