Sammy in Italy (Single Wide Female Travels #2)

by Lillianna Blake

  “Yes, I’ll try.”

  “Sammy, I’ve never—not for a second—doubted you.” He smiled and pulled me close to him. “I know that you have a hard time believing that, but it’s the truth. You turned my world upside down the day I met you. You still do—every time I look at you.”

  “How did I get so lucky?” I sighed and hugged him.

  “That’s what I ask myself.” He kissed the side of my neck. “We’re lucky we have each other—and this moment—and this amazing experience. I’m sure that we can think of a few ways to enjoy it.”

  “Oh yes, I believe we can.” I laughed as he tugged me toward the bedroom.

  A few hours later I smoothed down the black skirt of my cocktail dress. In the mirror it looked too tight. My legs were too exposed. My shoulders peeked out of the capped sleeves. Should I change? I tugged at one of the sleeves.

  “You look gorgeous.” Max stepped out of the bathroom in a gray jacket that made his eyes shine. “Ready to go?”

  “I’m not sure.” I stared into the mirror for a few more seconds. “I think maybe I should change.”

  He glanced at his watch. “We don’t really have time. You look perfect just like that. What’s the problem?”

  I took a deep breath and remembered our conversation from earlier in the day. I had to stop doubting myself so much. Instead of seeing the flaws of the dress, I forced myself to see the parts I liked. The skirt flattered my hips. The neckline was dramatic without being classless. The fine detail along the hem was what drew me to the dress in the first place.

  “Okay, let’s go.” I grabbed my purse and hurried away from the mirror before I could change my mind.

  In the elevator on the way down to the lobby, I noticed Max as he tugged at the sleeve of his jacket. First one, then the other. Then he straightened his tie. I smiled to myself as I realized that maybe he had his own doubts.

  “You look great, Max.”

  He glanced over at me with surprise. “Thanks.”

  “I mean it.” I trailed a hand down along the sleeve of his jacket, then took his hand in mine. “I can’t wait to show you off.”

  “Oh, really?” He grinned and took a step closer to me.

  “Yes, really.” I leaned in for a kiss just as the elevator doors slid open.

  Chapter 4

  “I see you’re enjoying Italy.”

  Isabella was standing there grinning at us as the elevator doors slid open.

  I pulled away from Max and as I did I stumbled on my high heel. Max reached out to catch me but only managed to grab my arm on the way down. I still landed on my rear end right in front of Isabella and about twenty other people who were waiting to board the elevator.

  “Sammy, are you okay?” Max pulled me back to my feet.

  I couldn’t look at Isabella. My cheeks burned so hot that I knew any make-up I put on was wasted. “I’m okay.” I hurried off the elevator so that the people who were waiting could get on.

  Max kept one hand on my lower back. Whether it was to prevent another fall or offer me support didn’t really matter. I appreciated it.

  “That was quite a tumble. You didn’t twist your ankle, did you?” Isabella looked down at my ankle with concern—my huge ankles.

  “I’m fine. I’m sorry. I feel so foolish.”

  “Don’t feel that way. I shouldn’t have startled you. We have a table reserved in the restaurant here.”

  “I want to thank you for the incredible room. It’s really much more than we expected.”

  “Good. I wanted it to be. You should be able to enjoy yourself while you’re here. I want this to be a memory for you, not just a leg of your tour.”

  “It certainly is.” I smiled.

  As we sat down at the table, I tried to let go of the embarrassment of my fall in the elevator. I needed to focus on the moment.

  Isabella ordered a fine wine, then looked across the table at me. “So there have been some changes to our itinerary.”

  “Oh?” I took a sip of the wine that the waiter delivered.

  “Yes, unfortunately the book signing I had lined up at a local bookstore got shot down.”

  “Oh, no.” My eyes widened.

  “It turns out that they had a bit of a bug problem and have been forced to fumigate. It’s horrifying, I know.” She sighed. “But I managed to book us a venue. It’s not quite what you’re used to, though.”

  “What is it?” I braced myself. Would it be in a school cafeteria somewhere? Would it be on a street corner?

  “As you know, your book is very popular, and even more so here in Venice. I put my feelers out to local events that would be able to handle the turnout I’m expecting, and one event in particular practically begged me for the opportunity to host you.”

  “Oh, how nice.” My heart fluttered.

  Max took my hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.

  “There’s a small fashion show taking place tomorrow. It is an intimate gathering, but it’s very selective—invite only. Alistair—the man in charge—offered to open up the venue prior to the fashion show, for all our guests.”

  “A fashion show?” I frowned. Even the street corner sounded better than that. “Do you really think that’s an appropriate setting?”

  “What could be better?” Isabella raised an eyebrow. “You inspire people to see their beauty, and a fashion show is all about beauty.”

  “It’s not that I’m not grateful for the opportunity—I really am—but it just seems to me that a fashion show only perpetuates one kind of beauty…and I doubt that many of my readers could identify with that type of beauty.” I frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “Perhaps you need to get to know all of your readers, Samantha.” Isabella paused as the waiter returned to take our orders.

  The tone of her voice lingered with me. Had I offended her? My stomach churned. I really wasn’t getting off to a great start with Isabella, between the fall and then my response to her idea. After all she’d done to make us feel comfortable, I shouldn’t be difficult.

  “You know what, Isabella, you’re right. I’m sorry. I guess I was just a little surprised. I’m sure you know best what would be a good venue. So if you think this is the right way to go, then I’m all for it.”

  Isabella smiled at me. “I think you’re going to love it. In fact, Alistair has even invited you to be part of the runway show.”

  “What?” My eyes widened.

  “You really must. It would be fantastic publicity.”

  I could barely hear her voice. A loud roar rushed through my head. Walk a runway in Venice? In front of all of those people? How could I ever do something like that? I looked over at Max.

  He smiled as he looked back at me. “You’ll be wonderful.”

  I wanted to punch him right in the nose. Okay, maybe not punch him, but I wanted to knock some sense into him. Max, always supportive, said what he thought he was supposed to say, but I didn’t want to hear that. I wanted him to share in my absolute horror at the thought.

  “Just let me know, so we can get a dress fitted for you.” Isabella smiled at the waiter as he brought our food.

  When he set my plate down in front of me, all I saw was butter and calories. What was I thinking when I ordered it? Well, I certainly wasn’t thinking about walking down a runway. My mind blurred as I thought about how I’d gone off my diet in France. I’d likely gained back a few pounds—maybe more than a few.

  “I think it’s a great idea.” Max picked up his fork and dug into his meal.

  I kicked his foot under the table. He jumped and looked over at me with a raised eyebrow. “It’s great publicity, like Isabella said.”

  “Sure.” I forced a smile. “Let me just think about it, okay?”

  “I’ll need an answer by the morning so that we can get the dress ready.” Isabella leaned across the table slightly and looked into my eyes. “Trust me, you want to wear this dress. It’s the newest in his line and it is gorgeous. I
just know it will be stunning on you.”

  Chapter 5

  I bit into my bottom lip and looked down at the food on my plate again. I didn’t share Isabella’s confidence, but wasn’t that the problem? As Max pointed out, I needed to believe in myself, not constantly give in to doubt.

  “Alright. Yes, I’ll do it. Of course I will.” I laughed a little. “How could I turn down such an incredible opportunity?”

  “Wonderful!” Isabella pulled out her phone. “I’ll just send the designer a text now. In the morning you’ll need to meet with his staff to get fitted for the dress, okay? I’ll send a car for you. I heard that there was a mix-up about the vehicles. I’m so sorry about that.”

  “It was fine.” I tried to control my pounding heart. “Max and I enjoyed the ride. Didn’t we, Max?”

  “We sure did.” He pointed to my plate. “Is your food okay? You haven’t taken a bite. Should I call the waiter over?”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s delicious.” I picked up my fork and let it hover over the food. My mind filled with images of me waddling down the runway as butter sauce dripped down my chin. I knew it was a little ridiculous to think that way, but that was the image that made me put my fork back down. “I think I’m just a little worn out from traveling. Maybe I’ll take mine to go.”

  Max locked eyes with me, but he didn’t argue. He signaled for the waiter and asked for my food to be boxed. I was relieved that he didn’t push me on the issue.

  Isabella and I got caught up in a lively conversation about the assortment of activities Max and I could enjoy while in Venice. By the time the check was paid, I’d forgotten about my nerves—until my stomach growled with hunger. I grasped the take-home container, and the scent of the food within it made my stomach growl again.

  Max took the container from me.

  “Thanks for dinner, Isabella.” I smiled at her.

  “I wish you could have enjoyed it. Do tell me if you’re getting ill. I’m sure we can arrange some time for you to rest.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I took Max’s free hand in mine. “I think I just need to let my stomach settle a little from the train.”

  “Have a good evening. I’ll text you first thing in the morning, and I’ll make sure the car I send is actually a car.”

  “Great. Thank you so much.”

  Max led me toward the elevator. As soon as we were by ourselves, he looked over at me. “What’s going on with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please, Sammy, I can tell when you’re hungry. Your face gets pale, your voice is softer—I know you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You ordered one of your favorites, so why didn’t you eat?”

  I quirked an eyebrow. Having Max along on the book tour was great, but he didn’t let me get away with anything.

  “I just wasn’t hungry.”

  He pursed his lips. From the tremble in his jaw I was sure he wanted to question me further, but the elevator doors slid open. He stepped aside as a family stepped off, then held the doors open for me. Luckily, a few other people stepped onto the elevator as well, which prevented the conversation from continuing. Then, floor by floor, people stepped off the elevator, until we were alone.

  He looked over at me. “I’m worried. Should I be worried?”

  I pointed to the elevator doors as they slid open. “Let’s go in.”

  He followed after me and set down the food in the kitchen. I was ready to dig in, but the thought of the dress the next morning made me shudder.

  Max ran his hands down from my shoulders to my elbows and up again. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, Max. I feel like everything I built up—every little bit of confidence—is gone.” I sighed and turned to face him. “I’m not sure if I can go through with this runway walk.”

  “Is that why you didn’t eat?” He narrowed his eyes. “Sammy, you know better than that. Starving yourself is never acceptable.”

  “I know, I know.” I plopped down in one of the chairs at the table and flipped open the container. “Grab me a fork, will you?”

  “Gladly.” He sat down beside me and handed me the fork. “Now tell me what’s got you so rattled.”

  “I was looking at this magazine on the train—at all of these beautiful Italian women. I mean, I know that beauty is different for everyone, but this beauty is a beauty I could never attain.”

  “No one’s asking you to change how you look, Sammy. That’s what you’re getting stuck on. The people here know your beauty—they see it and they want the world to see it too.” He stole a bit of my food. “I think you need a refresher. Maybe you should do some blogging.”

  “Maybe.” I frowned. My stomach stopped churning as I filled it with the delicious food.

  Chapter 6

  It embarrassed me to think that I was willing to go without food because of a dress. My readers deserved more than that from me. I deserved more.

  I turned to look at Max, who was watching me while I ate. “I just wish I could feel like I belonged, I guess. I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way.”

  “What do you mean, you want to belong?”

  “You know what I mean. Fit in—like I could just blend into the background and be a part of the crowd.”

  Max laughed so loud that I glared at him.

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  “Sammy, you could never blend in.”

  “Oh.” I furrowed a brow. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was getting at, but his words weren’t hitting me the right way. “Okay…”

  “Why would you want to? You’re a vivacious, creative, bold person. You are never going to fit into anyone’s mold, which is one of the millions of reasons that I love you. Why would you ever want to be like anyone else?” Max shook his head. “Maybe I have the wrong idea about what you want, but I never even considered the idea that you’d want to fit in.”

  “Of course I do. It’s hard to stick out like a sore thumb. I’m so clumsy, and I’m always getting into strange predicaments.” I frowned. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “No, Sammy.” He took my hand and looked into my eyes. “No, it doesn’t—not for a second. The only thing that ever bothers me is you thinking that you’re anything less than perfect. I don’t know how to explain that to you.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “I know you are.” He kissed the back of my hand. “And so are all of the women out there that are waiting to hear from you. Are you going to tell them that they should find a way to fit in—like all of the magazines do, like the media does—or are you going to inspire them to be proud and stand out?”

  I frowned. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  “You don’t.”

  “I do.”

  “You love it.” He grinned and gave my hand a squeeze. “It happens so rarely.”

  “Oh, stop.”

  “So? You didn’t answer.”

  “I would never tell a woman to try to blend in. You’re right. I guess I’m having a hard time accepting this new role I’m in. I feel like I have to look the part of a successful woman to deserve the success that I’m experiencing.”

  “You deserve it because of who you are. You got yourself here—no one else did that for you.”

  “You might have helped a little.” I grinned at him.

  “Maybe, but sometimes I’ve pushed against it too. You’ve stuck to your guns. You’ve known what you wanted and you’ve been going for it. That’s pretty amazing. Don’t lose that now out of fear. You have to stick it out and keep going.”

  “Maybe some sleep will help me with that.”

  “Good idea. Why don’t you take a nice warm bath first? That tub looks great.”

  “Excellent.” I cleaned up after my dinner, then walked to the bedroom and the bathroom connected to it.

  As the water ran into the large round tub, I tried to focus on calming my nerves. I didn’t need to be anything more than what I was. That was one of the hardest lessons I’d ev
er faced—that somehow I was already perfect.

  When I climbed into the tub, I was sure that I’d be feeling exhausted, but the warmth of the water actually cleared my mind. Old habits were hard to avoid. I could remember times when I thought eating as little as possible was the way to lose the weight I battled. I treated my body horribly, and my body responded by getting sick and sluggish. It was easy to think that a missed meal or two would lead to progress in my weight loss, but it actually had the opposite affect. What was I so scared of that I was falling back into such harmful habits?

  I closed my eyes. There it was—the runway—well lit and surrounded by an audience. There I was, in a dress so tight I was nothing but rolls. I toddled down the runway on high heels far too high for me.

  Suddenly, I understood my fear. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to fit in, it was more that I would be forced to. Someone else would choose my dress and my shoes. Someone else would tell me what was acceptable and not acceptable.

  As this realization hit me, I knew what my real challenge was. I needed to be strong enough to stand up for my own beauty as I saw it, rather than allowing someone else to shape it to suit them.

  The next morning I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. I could smell lemon and mint. Max had made tea. I smiled as I climbed out of bed. I couldn’t imagine being on the tour without him.

  When I walked into the kitchen Max turned around with a big blueberry muffin.

  “Isabella had them sent up.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “You’re going to need your strength. Who knows when you’re going to get another chance to eat?”

  “Alright, but no butter.”

  “These don’t need it, trust me.” He handed me the muffin along with a cup of tea.

  I glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Did she say what time we have to be there?”

  “In a half hour.”

  “What? That’s not enough time!”

  “All you have to do is show up and they will dress you, so no need to rush.” Max tapped the side of the cup. “I thought tea might be better than coffee.”

  “Good idea.” I smiled and sipped the tea. The warm liquid did wonders to soothe the anxiety within me, but my mind kept shifting to the fitting. Would I have any say in how it fit? What if it looked ridiculous on me? Would I be able to say no? The last thing I wanted to do was offend Isabella.