In the hotel lobby, Paul lingered after he’d wished Dina a good night. He didn’t want to leave her.
“I had a great time tonight,” Paul said, in a small voice.
“Me too.”
The lobby was quiet, the two desk clerks occupied with their computers. One was on the phone.
Paul leaned, kissing her softly, a sensual brush of the lips that quickened her heart. She shut her eyes, feeling a fountain of heat rising from her toes to her head. When Paul drew back, she kept her eyes closed, allowing the tingling sensation to wash over her.
“If you want me along, I’d love to take Fabio’s tour with you,” Paul said.
Dina’s eyes opened, her eyes unfocused. She blinked. “Of course. Yes, it would be fun. We’re going to all the tourist sites. Sure you won’t be bored?”
She smiled—that miracle of a smile.
He could only smile back. “No, I won’t be bored. Not for a minute.”
They confirmed their phone numbers, and Paul ambled away, turning to wave once more as he exited the hotel.
In her room, just before she switched off the light, and just as she was about to tug the cozy quilt up to her chin, she had an impetuous thought. She shouldn’t do it, but she had to. She grabbed her phone and started a text to Paul.
Forgive me, Paul: but I have to ask again. Please be honest. Are you married? Are you hiding something from me?
CHAPTER 13
The next morning, Dina slouched about her room, feeling depressed and irritable. It was eight o’clock. She went to her balcony, drew back the cream-colored draperies and stared out on a misty gray morning. A light rain fell, and Rome looked as low and as moody as she felt.
At around five that morning, Paul had texted to apologize. He had to leave Rome for New York within the hour. Something urgent had come up and he couldn’t delay. He apologized twice, but said it was unavoidable.
Dina reached for her phone and read part of the text for the third time.
As to your marriage question. I assure you, Dina, I am not married. I was married once… I’ll tell you about it when we meet again. If there was any way I could delay this business thing, I would do it. Unfortunately, a large well-known company is having security issues (they are being hacked) and I must be there to take charge and do some hand holding. I wish there was another way. I will contact you in New York. Hopefully, this business issue will be resolved and, even if it isn’t, I want to see you. I look forward to it. There are so many fun things to do in New York at Christmas. Take care, Dina, and enjoy your last day in Rome. Please stay in touch.
Dina wanted to believe him. Had her text question the night before chased him off? He hadn’t responded to her second question “Are you hiding something?” She also didn’t believe his last name was Smith. He didn’t look like a Smith or act like a Smith, not that that really made any sense. It was just a feeling, and she trusted her feelings. She should have trusted her feelings during her last relationship—and she certainly wasn’t going to ignore them again now. Dina was convinced Paul was hiding something.
She turned from the windows and thrust her hands deep into her silk bathrobe. Why had he always deflected any personal conversation about himself, giving her only snippets of information? Maybe it had to do with the business he was in: cyber security. Maybe he was in the CIA, or was a kind of spy or secret agent. Those people didn’t talk much—at least they didn’t in the movies and spy novels.
Often during conversation, when she asked Paul personal questions, she felt as though he was hiding behind a suit of armor, and wouldn’t let her in.
What was most alarming? She was falling for the guy, whoever the hell he was. She felt safe and protected around him. Was that because he was in security? She also felt happy and more alive around him.
So why were most men so withholding? So duplicitous? So inscrutable and irritatingly—men? She’d loved his kiss, that one and only kiss. She’d loved their laughter over dinner. It had come easily and Paul had opened up a little. She’d loved his smile and his eyes that changed when he was enjoying himself, from dark gray to a shade of deep green. Was she imagining that?
She loved his walk, his clean jawline, his steady gaze, his thick hair, his sensual lips, the way he often moved close to her when they walked. And then she’d had that damned dream about him, kissing her, touching her, thrilling her. That didn’t help any, especially when she’d awakened soon after and read his text. Yes, she’d kept her phone on the pillow beside her all night.
Dina shot up and huffed out a petulant sigh. “Damn… and he’s not even my type,” she said aloud.
She flopped back down on the bed. He must be rich. So then why would he want to be with her, a waitress who didn’t even finish college? He probably had as many girl friends as Fabio. Hell, maybe she should come on to Fabio. He’d show her a good time, and she’d have something to talk about when she got back home to Gallagher’s. Her shoulders slumped a little, a pool of dread filling her stomach. She recalled the song her father used to sing, How ya gonna keep ‘em down on the farm (after they’ve seen Paree)?
She shot up again. “Why should I meet him in New York? What for?” she said to the walls. She’d probably just get her heart broken again. It wasn’t like Paul was going to move to Colorado—and she certainly wouldn’t be able to move to New York, one of the most expensive cities in the world. So where would the relationship go anyway? Nowhere. How could it? So, should she just accept the fact that she and Paul had had a great time in Paris and Rome and that was the end of it? What the hell did she want anyway?
She turned in a thoughtful circle, letting the emotion run its course. As she stared blankly, she felt a chill. The fact was, she was deeply disappointed he was gone. She’d been looking forward to exploring Rome with Paul, an attractive man who had reawakened her body and her emotions.
She’d been fine until she’d met Paul. Being with him had opened the possibility of intimate sensation—of feeling desired and loved again; feeling the hope of having a relationship with a man she could care for and respect, a man she could share a future with—and, yes, maybe even marry and start a family with. She wasn’t getting any younger, and baby fever had begun to intrude into her idle thoughts. She’d found herself thinking about little Ruby back in Paris, who had grasped her arms around Paul’s long legs.
Dina ate breakfast in her room while texting Patti and Veronique. When a second text popped up from Paul, she sucked in a surprised breath.
Dina, let me know if you have any problems when you arrive in New York. Please don’t take a gypsy cab at the airport. Let me know if I can help in any way. Call me directly, if you have any problems at all. Again, sorry to rush off.
A knock on her door startled her. She opened it, and her room service waiter presented her with a bouquet of flowers, wrapped in red paper and tied with a lavish red bow.
“Buon Natale! Merry Christmas!” the waiter exclaimed. “These just came for you.”
Dina beamed, her eyes searching for the note. She gave the waiter a generous tip and when he was gone, she set the flowers on her bed table and reached for the note. She anxiously drew it from the envelope and read, a smile forming on her lips.
Merry Christmas, Dina. I hope this is your first Christmas gift, with many more to come. Had so much fun last night. See you in New York. Tell Fabio to slow down and drive safely.
—Paul
Dina felt a wild lift of joy as she quickly peeled off the wrapping. The red and white roses exploded to life, some already in bloom, their sweet scent flooding the room. She leaned, eyes closed, sniffed and hovered over the velvety pedals, her heart beating with delight.
By 10am, when Dina climbed into Fabio’s Fiat, the sun peeked through broken clouds, and the domes and the monuments were lit up and glistening, newly washed by rain.
At the Trevi fountain, Dina joined a crowd of tourists, while Fabio told her that the backdrop for the fountain was the Palazzo Poli, with its monumental trium
phal arch. The fountain tumbled forward in front of the Palazzo facade. Fabio pointed to the statue of Oceanus in the middle. He was riding a shell-shaped chariot, pulled by two horses, one calm and one restless. On either side of Oceanus were statues representing Abundance and Health.
“See, Dina, how water flows over artificial rocks into the basin that represents the sea. Every day maybe eighty thousand cubic liters of water flow through the fountain. It’s unbelievable, yes?”
Dina held up her phone and snapped away, unabashedly joining the other tourists doing the same.
Fabio pointed to the sun glittering on the water, as the fountain pumped multiple streams of water into the basin. “Now it is time for you to toss a coin, Dina.”
Fabio handed her a coin and instructed her on how to throw it.
“Like I told you last night, you put the coin in the right hand and toss over left shoulder. But first, you must make a wish.”
Dina closed her eyes, formed her wish, and then threw the coin as instructed.
“Okay, good, Dina. Now you will come back to Rome someday.”
The wind picked up as they walked to the Spanish Steps and climbed the 138 steps in a mix of curves, straight flights and vistas. At the upper piazza of Trinita dei Monti, Dina took photos of the beautiful twin tower church that dominated the skyline, only pausing to lick a chocolate gelato that Fabio brought her.
“The gelato here is so good, Dina. I could eat boxes of it. Boxes is the right word, yes?”
Dina laughed. “No, Fabio, I think you mean buckets not boxes.”
“Yeah, buckets. Good, Dina. I learn some better English and you learn the Italian word bella. Do you know what bella means, Dina?”
“I think so. It means beautiful, right?”
Fabio looked at Dina, and held her eyes in his adoring eyes. “And you, Dina, are bella. So bella. You break my heart, you know, because you are so bella.”
Dina chuckled. “I don’t think I’m so bella, Fabio, but I do think that you are very Italian.”
He stepped back, with a spread of his hands. “Of course I’m Italian, Dina. Why not? So tonight, I want to take you out on the town. That’s right, yes? Out on the town?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“We go to hot restaurant. Good place. I know people there, and I show you to them. Those guys will be so jealous when I show you. They will fall in love with you.”
Dina licked the creamy chocolatey gelato, giving Fabio a suspicious glance.
“Why you look that way, Dina? It’s all part of the tour, but maybe you give me a kiss or two at dinner to show those boys how much you like me.”
Dina looked at him, doubtfully. “Let’s not get carried away, Fabio.”
“What does carried away mean?”
“It means, I won’t kiss you in front of your friends. It means kissing will not be part of the tour.”
“Why not? This is Rome. Everybody kisses in Rome. It’s good to kiss. I kiss good. I’m a very good lover, Dina. Maybe you stay in Rome for a while. Maybe we have fun and be, as you say, a couple.”
“I admire your confidence and persistence, Fabio, but I’m leaving tomorrow for New York.”
“But this Paul, he left you. How could he leave you like that? I don’t understand. I don’t understand you Americans. You come to Rome, you stay so short and then you go, just like that.”
Dina lowered her eyes. “He runs a company. Something came up.”
“Up. Up! Something is up! What’s that? Huh? I don’t understand Americans. I like them, you know, si, yes, but he’s in Rome with you, bella Dina. How can he leave you? I never leave you, Dina. You stay with me and we will have so much fun. We laugh, we eat, we travel. We drink wine, we make love. Not bad life. Good life. Yes?”
Dina re-evaluated Fabio. He was a handsome guy. No doubt about it. His broad face, olive skin, sexy lips and curly black hair were easy to look at. His shoulders were broad, his waist small, his confidence attractive. Although he wasn’t tall, he carried himself as if he were, shoulders back, chest out, eyes darting about looking for adventure.
And then she caught him glancing at a gorgeous Italian girl, who drifted by with a sexy attitude. She was all swaying hips, round, firm breasts and parted lips. Fabio gave her a bright glance, and she smiled at him with approval, her very dark, smoldering eyes looking him up and down. It all happened in seconds.
Dina recalled Angelo’s words. “He have lots of girls too. He like the girls.”
Dina watched him in quiet amusement. She gave a nod toward the retreating goddess.
“I think she could use a good tour guide, Fabio.”
He spread his hands in innocence. “She’s nothing. Next to you, she’s an ugly old girl, Dina.”
The rest of the afternoon was spent exploring the Coliseum and walking the streets of Rome. The City was alive with the sounds of accordions and violins, providing a Christmas soundtrack for Dina’s holiday stroll.
Fabio took her to the heart of the fashion district, the Tridente area, and they wandered the side streets away from the brand-name shops to find Saddlers Union, a cult luxury leather brand that had been a favorite of Jackie Kennedy’s. Dina loved the shop and purchased a new handbag for herself, one for Patti and one for Veronique. She was sure she’d see her new friend again, even though she hadn’t heard from her since she’d left to visit her ailing father.
As darkness descended and the lights of Rome blazed with color and glitter, Dina and Fabio were strolling down Via del Corso when she heard the sound of the Christmas song Jingle Bells—being played on a violin and sung in Italian! She hummed along, and pulled the collar of her coat up, as the wind gusted and the night grew cold.
Back at the hotel, Dina showered and dressed in her newly purchased navy cocktail dress, with short sleeves and ruffled details. She restyled her hair, this time wearing it in a flip, with bangs, an alternative retro look a stylist in France had showed her. The two-inch heels added height and a willowy sexiness, and when Fabio approached in the lobby, he slapped a hand to his cheek, shaking his head, his awestruck eyes wide, his mouth open.
“Dina! Sei bellissima. Sei il grande amore della mia vita.”
Dina smiled, pleased by his reaction. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds like you approve.”
He came at her in a rush, wrapped both hands behind her head, pulled her forward and kissed her full on the lips. Dina stood frozen, stunned by the kiss.
Fabio leaned back, gazing at her in a hazy romantic wonder. Suddenly, he lunged forward and kissed her again.
When they parted lips, he stared deeply into her eyes. “Potrei guardarti tutto il giorno.”
In the heels, she stood nearly two inches taller than he. She was speechless, the power of his kiss still lingering. She flushed. Yes, he was a good kisser.
“What does that mean, Fabio?”
He kept staring at her. “It means, bella Dina, that I could look at you all day. Sei la mia anima gemella. That means, we are soul mates. I feel it. I know it.”
Dina had never been deluged by blatant romance like this. It was flattering and arousing. She could see why Fabio had so many girlfriends. He was an expert charmer and kisser, and he looked gorgeous in his dark suit and powder blue shirt, his hair slicked back and shining under the lights.
He went to reach for her again, but she backed away with raised hands. “Basta, Fabio.”
His face registered shock, and then delight. “Basta? You know Italian, Dina! See, you must stay in Rome with me. Yes, you must.”
They drove to a trendy bar in downtown Rome, tucked away in a small street surrounded by beautiful yellow terra-cotta colored homes. Inside, Dina thought the place looked like something from an old movie, with comfortable retro chairs and sofas, and a cozy vibe, with a sleek cocktail bar and a thumping soundtrack.
Dina met five of Fabio’s friends, three men and two trendy, stylishly dressed women. The women were friendly but only one, Maria, spoke any English, and of th
e men, only one spoke broken English. They whispered and laughed and sized up Fabio’s new girl.
Dina sat on a sofa with Maria, a voluptuous brunette, who eyed Fabio with bland interest.
“He’s all huff and puff, you know,” she said, over a glass of wine.
“Huff and puff?” Dina asked.
“He’s good with the words, but too fast in the bed. All talk, I think the English say.”
“We’re not dating,” Dina said, quickly.
Maria shrugged, her profile reminding Dina of a young Sophia Loren’s.
“We weren’t dating either. It’s okay, Dina. He’s good for a night or two. It’s a nice face and a good body. But Fabio is maybe self-absorbed, I think. He never shuts up with the words about himself, even when he’s loving. Like I said, all huff and puff and too fast.”
Dina was not a prude. She had had lovers, but Maria’s candor was a little jarring and hilarious.
The rest of the night was a blur, because Dina had had two glasses of wine on an empty stomach. They’d all wound up at some posh restaurant, eating oysters, seafood, pasta and salad. Several times, Fabio’s arm ventured toward Dina’s shoulders, but each time she gently pushed him away.
Maria grinned and shrugged.
Outside the restaurant, Dina said her goodbyes. She noticed Maria whispered something into Fabio’s ear and he frowned. Dina would have loved to know the story surrounding those two.
When everyone else had drifted away, Dina turned to Fabio and told him she’d take a cab back to the hotel. He protested, and even stamped a foot.
“You cannot do this, Dina. You must let me take you home. You must let me into your room. We are soul mates. I know it. I feel it. I’ll show you how much I love you.”
Two Italian women passed, one a blonde, one a redhead, both attractive. For a split second, Fabio’s hot eyes darted toward them, performing a lusty scan of their bodies before returning his pleading eyes to Dina.
“Please, Dina. Let me come back to your room. Love is waiting for us.”
Dina touched his cheek. “Fabio… love is waiting for you all over Rome. Maria is waiting for you.”
The Date Before Christmas: A Novel Page 13