Julian’s gut clenched and he flew from the bed. Running straight into the bathroom, he held his hand over his mouth and reached the toilet just in time before he got sick. Once. Twice. He sat on the floor, back against the wall, and waited until the nausea seemed over. Stepping inside a steaming shower, he prayed for the hot water to wash away his sins.
Forgiveness. It never came easy to Julian.
In recent months, while he blamed himself for the jumping accident, it occurred to Julian the matter of forgiveness wasn’t a new issue he struggled with. The day he’d watched his parents being burned alive, flames of quiet rage burned inside Julian. They’d betrayed him with their recklessness on the show, by not settling down somewhere and allowing their family to lead a normal life. Morsels of anger toward them dissipated fast as they surfaced, though, because his fury felt wrong considering he’d lost them forever.
He shut off the water and stepped from the shower. While toweling dry, he glanced up at the large mirror over the vanity. The tattoo on his pectoral muscle mocked him, reminded him the man he used to be was a fake. Inked with a three-dimensional effect, the bold tattoo showed a circular tribal ornament, the masked face of a warrior in the center. The crew insisted he get it done after a shoot in southern Ethiopia, where the tribe leader told Julian he possessed a warrior’s heart.
All it took was a few drinks for Julian to agree. Now he wanted to rip it off his skin.
As he blinked at himself in the mirror, the pain in his head disappeared only to be replaced by a truth ringing loud as a bell: unruly behavior came easy after losing his parents because he had nothing left to lose—including his own life.
He dried himself, wishing for a way to relieve the anger always pulling him down. Once, while touring a church in Orvieto, he overheard a priest talking to someone about forgiveness. Would granting himself mercy make the heaviness in his chest lighter? Or did he just need a shrink?
Once back in the room, he turned on the television. Watching a morning show, he dried his hair with the towel then wrapped it around his waist. An empty day ahead of him doing paperwork while his tour did other things added to his lousy mood.
Yesterday, he’d planned on asking Mamie to spend the day with him. Another tame adventure, meant to keep her focused and out of trouble. Only what happened at the museum left him emotionally spent, forcing enthusiasm the rest of the gallery visit. Mentally, he’d run away from her.
Running.
A path Julian followed since the age of fourteen. When would he stop?
Chapter 12
“Thanks, Sandra.” Mamie left the lobby and took the stairs to the second floor to the room Sandra told her belonged to Julian.
Armed with Julian’s real story and the desire to help him through a crisis she didn’t fully understand, she continued until she stood outside room 207. Mamie lifted her hand and, only after she banged three times loudly, did she spot the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob.
Before she could turn and make a fast escape the handle jiggled and the door swung open.
Julian stared back, naked except for a white towel wrapped at his waist. Her gaze drifted to a tattoo of a symbol just above his left breast, peeking out behind a few sandy brown hairs. She followed the narrow trail of hair in the center of his broad chest, stopping as it hit his naval.
He cleared his throat.
She quickly looked up, her gaze landing on bags beneath his eyes. “Sorry. Good morning.”
His jaw tightened as he dropped his gaze to the door handle.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t see the sign until it was too late.” Voices in the room caught her attention. The reason he didn’t want to be disturbed took on another meaning. “Oh, never mind. I’ll catch you later.”
“It’s the TV. I’m alone.”
“It’s nothing important. I can tell you’re—”
“What’s up, Mamie?”
In spite of his obvious bad mood, her mission today was Julian’s happiness. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? That is, if you’re free.”
He drew in a deep breath and his broad chest lifted, forcing her to ogle again like a desperate woman. An awful way to feel, and yet she fit the bill.
She looked him square in the face. “I asked because you’ve shown me some wonderful things and, well, I enjoy your company.”
His face softened a little.
Feeling bolder, she added, “In fact, I can’t think of anybody I’d rather spend my day with.” Then she smiled, the most hopeful, upbeat smile she’d probably put on her face in the past five years.
He studied her with an impassive stare for a long few seconds. “Have you eaten breakfast?”
“Not yet. I’m on my way down.”
“Let me get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs. Grab us a table. We can talk then.”
“Great.”
He nodded, shot her a half-smile, and then shut the door.
Mamie let out a breath, letting go of tension in her tight shoulders. Once in the dining room, she got a plate of food then found a table in the corner, away from the other patrons. Getting the man who she suspected was Eddie to open up a little wouldn’t be easy.
The waiter delivered her coffee while she sat picking at a bowl of fruit. A penance after days of ignoring anything too healthy. Only if she finished the fruit would she let herself dive into the nearby plate of salami, cheese, and Nutella.
A few minutes later, Julian entered the room. He said something to the waiter and, after taking only a roll from the buffet spread, approached her table.
Julian pulled out a chair and sat, his knees bumping hers.
She glanced at his plate. “All those yummy things to choose from and you got one roll?”
His gaze drifted to her heaping plate and she swore he turned white.
“You feeling okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” He sipped his water.
She chewed on a piece of melon, debating whether to mention she’d seen him in town last night.
“How’d you like Florence?” he asked.
“Nothing short of remarkable.”
“Favorite part?” He tore a corner from his roll and slowly chewed it.
“There were two things. I loved the view of Florence from the Boboli Gardens. Simply breathtaking.” He nodded, watching her with a deepness that made her almost forget to breathe.
“I’d love to show you Fiesole,” he said. “Different city views, but equally beautiful. Maybe while we’re at the farmhouse we can take a ride.”
“I’d like that.”
“And the second thing?”
“The statue of David.” She reached out and touched his hand for a second. “Really, Julian. Thank you. I’ll always remember how you introduced me to it.”
He offered a close-lipped smile. “My pleasure.”
She smoothed the hazelnut spread onto half a crusty roll wishing she could just ask about the call of his she’d overheard, but it wasn’t the right approach. After taking a bite and swallowing, she said, “Last night, I was Googling things about Italy and stumbled on a quote from Mark Twain. Something like Michelangelo’s designs—no wait... Ah, yes. ‘The Creator made Italy from designs by Michelangelo.’”
Julian laughed. “Great quote.” He watched her for a moment then reached out and touched a spot beneath her lower lip, his touch gentle and surprising. “You wear your Nutella well.”
She dabbed with her napkin, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “I can’t resist this stuff. Is it gone?”
He picked up his napkin and wiped beneath her chin. “Now it is.”
She couldn’t remember the last time a man touched her with such care, in a way so...so...familiar and almost intimate.
“Twain’s comment carries some truth.” Julian put down his napkin. “This country is so beau
tiful. Easy to see what inspired the Renaissance artists, you know? I’ve traveled to many beautiful places during my life, but Italy is special.” He stared into his coffee cup for a fraction of a second, then met her gaze and spoke more softly. “I like watching you see everything for the first time.”
Her cheeks warmed knowing he’d been watching her so closely, his awareness a surprise and the kind of attention she once loved receiving.
To want it was also scary. This new and fun thing with Julian could vanish in the time it took the second hand to tick. What did she really know about him? She didn’t want to like being around him so much. Yet the mystery surrounding him intrigued her.
“Tell me about your tattoo?”
His shoulders stiffened, but he replied calmly, “It’s an Aztec warrior.”
“Cool. Why did you decide on that and not, oh, let’s say, Tweety Bird?” When she smiled, his shoulders relaxed and he grinned.
The smile faded. “A few of my buddies talked me into this after a little too much to drink.” He glanced down at the tabletop for a second, then looked up. “That’s it. Just a crazy impulsive decision.”
She nodded, certain there was more to the story. “What kind of adventure can we take today?”
“There’s tons of treasure right here in Siena.”
“Sounds good.” She sipped her coffee, watching him over the rim as he ate small bites of his bread. “Guess we won’t be using my list at all.”
He chewed then swallowed. “Have I disappointed you yet?”
“No. But my list is still on the table, right?”
“Maybe for another day.” He wiped his hands with his napkin. “Finish eating. We’ve only got until five, when the others come back and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” He paused and studied her for several seconds. “How do you manage to get me to do things I shouldn’t be doing?”
“It’s a gift.” She waggled her brows and loved the way his face softened in response.
She ate while Julian shared a story about a trip that went awry from one of his other tours. In the back of her thoughts, the fact she wasn’t completely honest with Julian about her life made her feel awful. The topic of work bringing her to Tuscany was legally off limits, but she did have a personal story to share. Not the made-up story about a divorce.
Julian laughed. “And then Beppe spent five minutes trying to get the goats to cross the road...”
His joy and improved mood made her happy. It made her want to be truthful and reveal to him the true Mamie.
So what was she waiting for?
* * * *
“Some say this church is the soul of Siena, while the main square is the heart.”
Julian glanced at Mamie from where they stood in the back of Siena’s Duomo, looking out to the nave. She stared straight ahead, her dark eyes wide and her full lower lip slightly open, giving him a minute to study the gentle slope of her nose and creamy skin.
She seemed interested in the tour he’d given her. He never tired of looking at this place. Lined by columns made of white/black marble and layered in a striped motif, the cathedral displayed sculptures of Siena’s past religious leaders, while the floor displayed storytelling done in mosaics.
Her intense gaze canvassed the interior of this medieval gothic masterpiece, then she turned to him. “And when did you say it was built again?”
“They started construction in—I think—the early twelve hundreds.” Instead of staring at the artwork, he couldn’t take his eyes off Mamie. She seemed… What was it? More confident? He usually didn’t notice women’s fashions, but lately her clothing was less plain, more like what he saw on local women. Like the long halter dress she wore today.
“Just remarkable.” She reached inside her purse and removed her sunglasses, glancing his way as she looked around one more time but her mood had shifted abruptly. “Thank you for being such a thorough guide. I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”
Thorough guide? That’s exactly the part he’d played for her, though. Not that of a man who’d taken notice of her, loved to talk to her, was interested as all hell about her. Damned if he didn’t do the showman thing with everyone. When he was Eddie, he was always on and entertaining. Never giving those around him a glimpse into his personal side. Now as a guide, he rarely took off this same hat. Much easier than being himself.
They headed out the doors and into the large piazza in front of the church. A warm breeze blew by, making her lightweight dress flutter around her slender legs and giving him a peek of her shapely calf where the dress slit on the side. Where was she putting all the food she’d been eating? Certainly not on those lean curves.
“Are you getting hungry yet?” She glanced around, definitely avoiding Julian’s gaze. Yup, her good spirits during the cathedral visit had disappeared.
“Sure. I can eat now. There’s a nice place in that direction.” He pointed to his right.
As she slipped on the dark glasses, he swore he caught glistening in her eyes.
She started to walk away, but he reached out and took her hand.
Pulling her closer, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head.
He lifted her sunglasses and placed them on top of her head to find the tears he suspected in her eyes. “Mamie. What is it?”
She dropped her chin to her chest. “I’m sorry. Being inside there...” She looked up at the cathedral. “It made me think about someone I lost who’d have truly enjoyed this place. Hell, he’d have loved everything about Tuscany.”
He? “How about we sit and talk?”
She hesitated then finally nodded. He led her by the hand to the cathedral’s side, where the front steps wrapped around the building. They found some shade and fewer people. He motioned for her to sit and, when he joined her, their legs touched. He held tightly onto her hand and waited for her to say something.
Her shoulders stooped as stared at her lap. “The story I told you about my life isn’t completely true. I’m not divorced. My husband...he died and also—” She stopped and shut her eyes, her face contorting right before tears streamed down her cheek.
“What is it, Mamie?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head then drew in a deep breath. “Nothing.”
His heart ached for every tear she shed, but he wouldn’t push her right now. “I’m sorry. How long ago?”
“Five years.”
All the sadness displayed on her expression when she first arrived became clear. No wonder he’d related to her. The agony of such a loss always painted the same picture. Torment he fully understood. “I’ll bet it’s been a tough five years.”
“Yes.” Her lip trembled and she let go of his hand and wrapped her arm around her stomach. “It was a car accident.” She drew a deep breath. “It’s the reason I limp.”
He nodded, remembering what she’d told Joel after the scooter accident.
“EMS said I was lucky to have survived.” She bowed her head and whispered like a passing breeze, “I never felt lucky.”
Julian put his arms around her shoulders and drew her trembling body close to his chest. Words escaped him. All he could feel were the pieces of his broken heart stirring inside his chest, reminding him how it felt to lose a loved one. Tightness made his throat thick, and an unexpected tear ran down his cheek.
He hugged Mamie even tighter, though it didn’t stop the control he’d mastered for many years from slipping away. Mamie’s pain became his own, causing his throat to swell and his eyes to water. For once, he didn’t fight his pain. Not only for Mamie, but for his own losses, too.
They stayed on the steps, Mamie settled against his chest and Julian supporting her—or maybe she was supporting him. No matter. Being with her at this moment felt so right. But why? He hardly knew her. Yet something had drawn them together. Perhaps their suffering.
>
She looked up at him. Tears stained her cheeks. He reached into his pocket, found a napkin, and wiped her wet face.
“I’m sorry.” She said, watching him through watery, vulnerable eyes filled with pain so raw he couldn’t let go. “You’re crying?”
“I-I...” Words escaped him. The story of his parents’ death had been neatly brushed under the carpet for a long time, so he didn’t know what to say. Besides, this was about her. “Yes. I’m sad for your loss.”
She frowned and her eyes skipped around his face, her scrutiny making him uncomfortable. He didn’t want to talk about his problems.
“I’m sorry to dump this on you.”
“Don’t be. I’m not sorry you did.”
“No?” She watched him, her brows furrowed and a desperate gleam in her eyes. “It’s been a relief to be someplace where nobody knows about it.”
He nodded. It was why he changed his appearance and made sure nobody knew he was once Eddie. A fact he could share with her right now, so she understood she wasn’t alone with the emotion.
Instead, he used his finger to wipe off some wilted mascara beneath her eyes. “Thank you for telling me.”
She took his hand. “You’re welcome.”
They sat together for several minutes, their shoulders touching while they quietly watched the crowds.
She shifted and faced him. “I think I’m still hungry.” She smiled, so slight and quick he almost missed it. “Pitiful, huh?”
“Not one bit.” Right away, he felt better, surprised how much her happiness suddenly mattered so much to him. “My plan was to grab some food from a deli in the old part of town, find a place to eat and people watch, then head to a park called All’Orto de’ Pecci. They have medieval gardens you might like. We can even take a short afternoon siesta.”
She grinned. “You need a rest?”
“I’m running on very little sleep after a rough night.”
“Don’t let the rest of the tour hear you say that. You’ll never hear the end of it.”
He laughed. “Can’t I count on you to keep a secret?”
“For now. But if the time ever comes, I may use it against you.”
The Sweet Life Page 13