Alessa didn’t know about dripping sweat, but she couldn’t help noticing how his body glistened with a light sheen of perspiration.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s wash that off.” She laughed.
Hand in hand, they rushed to the edge of the ocean. Michael let go and dove into the water while Alessa remained behind and looked on. Slowly, she followed him in, squealing as the ocean inched higher up her legs. She should just be brave enough, like Michael, and take the plunge. The cold would only sting for a moment.
And maybe, while she was being brave and all, she should try plunging into love too.
Rafaele and Jayne came to mind. They had jumped right into their romance, and look at how happy they were. She wouldn’t be surprised if they announced a wedding date sometime soon.
She raised her gaze to the big, blue ocean, and Michael, beckoning to her. Try as she might to fight it, she was developing feelings for this guy. Strong feelings. And she liked it.
Raising her hands above her head, Alessa mimicked Michael’s example, one thought running through her mind as she slipped beneath the watery surface: perhaps it was time to let go of her fear and try this thing called love.
The sun hung low on the horizon when Michael opened the throttle, leaving a magical day in Anzio behind them. He and Alessa had swum and tanned much, talked a lot, and eaten a good deal more. They’d even managed to run out of food. How he was going to enjoy returning to these memories in the coming days…the sound of her voice and her laughter, the way her lips moved as she spoke, and the feel of her skin beneath his palms—not only on the beach just after she’d handed over the suntan lotion after each trek from the ocean, but as they’d played in the water too.
Sitting behind Michael, Alessa snuggled into his back, her hands wrapped perhaps a little tighter around his chest than they had been on their journey to the coast. All right, make that a lot tighter. And somehow he suspected it had nothing to do with his driving skills. At least, he hoped it didn’t.
Back at her apartment, Michael brought the Ducati to a stop and cut the engine. Alessa slid off, and he leaned the bike on the kickstand.
Would she invite him in? If she did, how would he respond?
“I’ll walk you to your front door,” he said.
“Thank you.” She slid her hand into his as they strolled through the courtyard, the fragrance of the tiglio trees and nearby jasmine creepers permeating the air. You had to love Italy in the springtime.
At her door, Alessa turned the key in the lock. Without opening the door, she slowly twirled around and leaned against the wooden surface, her gaze searching his.
“Well, thanks for the early dinner—you were right, the food was worth delaying our departure.” On a whim, they’d popped into a quaint, little beachfront restaurant that served the freshest seafood he’d ever tasted.
“Prego. I’m just sorry we ran out of food.” He really thought he’d packed more than enough.
Alessa giggled, her eyes dancing with mirth. “I’m sorry I ate most of your food.”
Michael shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see a girl with a healthy appetite.” He took a step closer and leaned his hand against the doorjamb. His gaze searched hers in the dim light.
Her lips curved with a smile. “Um, would you like to come inside for a coffee?”
He’d love an espresso to perk him up—the sand, the sea, the fun had all resulted in a wave of exhaustion crashing down on him. But…
“I…don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Alessa touched his T-shirt lightly, almost as if she were merely brushing a piece of fluff from the fabric. Then she deepened her touch, moving her hand behind his neck.
Was she giving him permission to—?
Michael stooped down to claim her lips before she changed her mind.
Chapter Nine
ALESSA SCURRIED AROUND HER APARTMENT as she readied herself for her special day. She couldn’t believe that she and Michael had been dating for a month already. So the saying was true—time does fly when you’re having fun.
She had never dated anyone for an extended time. Sure, she might’ve seen a couple of guys several times over a few months—at the same time—but nothing was ever exclusive. With any of them. Now, it was just Michael and her—the rest of the world had seemed to cease to exist. They saw each other at least four to five times a week. Last week she’d even seen him six times because she’d gone to church with him on Sunday morning. They’d hung out in the city for the rest of the day just enjoying the fruits of summer—sunshine, snacking on an orange they’d each nicked from one of the trees that lined some of Roma’s streets, and or course, gelato. If this was her Trevi Fountain romance that she’d tossed two coins away for, bring it on. What a return on her investment!
She might even agree to Michael taking her for pizza one of these days.
Her breath hitched. Was that the surprise he had in mind for her tonight? He must’ve remembered their one-month anniversary, because he was being extremely secretive about this date. Well, if pizza was what he’d planned, she might just permit him to share this special meal with her this time.
A familiar knock sounded at her front door. She pushed the second earring through the piercing in her ear. The long, dangly earrings moved as she fluffed the curls in her hair, and the string of tiny diamante sparkled. She shoved her feet into her tan, chunky-heel sandals, fastened the straps, then hurried to the door.
Michael peeked out at her from behind a large bunch of red roses. He smiled. “Ciao, bella. Happy monthaversary.” He handed her the bouquet.
She’d always flinched, annoyed, when men called her beautiful. But when the five-letter word—bella—rolled off Michael’s tongue, warmth spread through her.
He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hello.
Oh, she could so get used to this.
An ache formed in her chest. Would she be too afraid to take their relationship to the next step, and run? Would she tire of his lips one day? Or he tire of waiting?
She hoped none of the above.
Michael stepped back to look at her, the biggest smile stretching across his face, and she was glad she’d chosen this dress for the occasion—whatever that occasion might be. The dusty-pink chiffon miniskirt made her feel so feminine. And its tent design was so comfortable, the fabric swaying with her every move.
“Let me put these flowers in a vase, grab the scooter key and our helmets, then we can go.” She giggled. “Oh, and fix my lipstick.”
Alessa pivoted then paused. She did a half-turn. “We are going out tonight?”
Michael grinned. “Oh yes. But leave the helmets and key.”
“We’re walking?”
He shook his head.
“Catching the bus?”
Another shake.
“Taxi? Ducati?”
“No, amore mio. Hurry with the flowers, then I’ll show you.” Michael bounced on his heels, barely able to contain his excitement it seemed.
The flowers hurriedly arranged in her best vase, she placed them on the console table in the passage where she could see them whenever she entered or left her apartment. And when she moved around. Right in the middle of her home was the best place for them. Like Michael—in the middle of her heart.
She gazed up at the empty wall. Then why couldn’t she bring herself to hang the framed charcoal sketch of her, Michael, and Sienna? Or to share with her sister about her relationship with the man Sienna believed was Alessa’s soul mate?
Michael grabbed Alessa’s hand and led her down the steps leading out of her apartment building and into the courtyard.
“Close your eyes,” he said, a tremor rippling through him. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction.
She gave a nervous laugh. “I won’t be able to see where I’m going.”
“I will lead you. Trust me.”
Without hesitation, Alessa’s eyes closed, and she held on a little tighter to his hand. If
only she’d learn to trust him in other areas of her life. Like sharing with him what had made her so anti-marriage, and where she went when her eyes glazed and she disappeared in her mind to another time and another place.
He had parked around the corner to hide the surprise from Alessa. Fortunately, despite it being evening, they would still have a few hours of daylight before the world went dark. He loved these long summer days. Especially because he got to spend them with the woman he loved. Yes, he had fallen so hard for her and so fast. This had become far more than just being obedient to God. If only all obedience to the Lord was this easy and pleasant. For certain, Hosea’s acquiescence could not have been a piece of cake.
When he came to a standstill, he told Alessa to open her eyes.
She did. And then she widened them. Her head snapped to him.
“You bought a Vespa, like mine?”
He nodded. “Except mine’s black. Couldn’t have us both having the same color—it would be too confusing.”
Hand to her mouth, she chuckled. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“Well, I had to find a transport alternative—especially if I’m to continue making almost daily trips to this side of town. It was either that or move closer.”
Alessa placed her thumb at the edge of her mouth for a brief moment. She offered a coy smile. “I wouldn’t mind having you in the neighborhood.”
He wouldn’t mind either, but he had to remember the real purpose of being in Italy. God had to come first—before Alessa. And for now, he needed to be at Hope Center, not setting up a cozy little abode miles from his coworkers.
Now if Alessa agreed to marry him… He might just have to commute to work then.
“And look at that—” She burst out laughing and lifted the silver glitter, open-faced helmet. “I hope this one’s yours.”
Michael’s head bobbed up and down. “Oh yeah. And the black one is yours.”
Alessa eased up on her toes and planted a kiss on his lips. “You’re too sweet. But how did you—”
“I asked my parents to sell my bike back home.”
“But you loved that bike. You told me so. Several times.”
Michael threw his head back and spun full circle on his heel, laughing. “Argh, I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry, it’s just… Well, that bike and I have traveled many roads together, seen many things, have many stories to tell.”
“Then why sell it?”
He took her hand and wove his fingers through hers. Then he kissed each of her fingers lightly. “Life changes, and so do priorities. Chances are I might never return to America to live. No point in the bike getting all rusty and dusty in a garage now, is there?”
Her eyes lit up and Michael’s heart beat a little faster. Did she grasp the enormity of what he’d just said?
“Why do you think you might never return?” Alessa clamped her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Because, cucciola mia—” My puppy. Matteo had taught him that one. “If I’m to make you my wife one day, I need to leave my parents and cleave to you. I think that probably means my bike as well. I know deep down, you’re a Tuscan girl at heart. I could never take you far away from your home.”
He grinned. “Besides, I needed the money.”
Tiny lines formed on her brow. “For what? Don’t you get supported by people in your church back home?” She lifted the black helmet off the seat and examined it.
“I do. But not enough to buy a scooter.”
“Ha, if that bike of yours was half as fancy as you claimed, you should’ve been able to buy far more than just a Vespa.” Alessa slid the helmet onto her head and flashed him a grin. “It fits.”
“Of course it does. I snuck a peek at the size of your helmet. Do you want to wait here while I lock up your apartment?”
“I still need to fix my lipstick.” Alessa spoke a little louder than normal because of the helmet on her head.
Cupping his hands against the sides of the head protector, Michael drew Alessa closer, and then he kissed her. “Why?” he said when he finally released her mouth. “It’s just going to get kissed off again.”
“You do have a point. And I don’t mind if it does. Not one bit.” She began to fasten the helmet’s strap under her chin. “The front door key is hanging behind the door. Would you mind turning out the lights, except for the one in the passage? Oh, and please grab my tan clutch bag on the kitchen table and my cell phone.”
Michael hurried to do as requested.
Alessa had just slid onto the seat when he strolled back to the scooter. He handed the small bag and phone to her then put on his own helmet.
Alessa leaned over Michael’s shoulder as he eased onto the seat in front of her. “You know, it does look rather like a disco ball.”
He laughed. “All for you, my darling Alessa. All for you. And the bonus is, other drivers can see me coming for miles at night.”
“Well now, that I’m not too sure about. It’s sparkly, but not that sparkly.”
“As long as you can see me, that’s all that matters.”
Michael started the scooter and pulled away, Alessa holding tightly around his waist, laughing.
He’d made reservations at Colore, a quaint little restaurant he’d seen tucked away in a tiny piazza one day on his way home. The name simply meant, color.
“Buonasera. Signore Michael Young,” he announced himself to the hostess. She checked for his booking and then showed them inside to their table. He’d been hoping to sit outside, under the pergola made of colorful umbrellas and tucked away behind a hedge of bright pink bougainvillea. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when he stepped inside the restaurant. The complete antithesis to what he was expecting, the restaurant interior’s décor was done in an elegant black and white with splashes of color on the walls in the form of brightly colored artworks. Good thing he’d put on his smart trousers and a jacket tonight. The restaurant was far fancier than he’d thought.
“Michael, this place is amazing,” Alessa whispered as she slid into her chair in their secluded booth. “How did you find it?”
“On my wanderings home one day. It made me think of you.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because you bring so much color to my world.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “And you to mine.”
A waitress, dressed in black and white, appeared beside their table. Splashes of blue, green, yellow, red, and orange—like paint splatters—brightened her dark apron. She smiled. “Buonasera. Italiano? Inglese?”
“American.” Michael chuckled.
“Sì.” The waitress handed them each a leather-bound menu. “My name is Caterina, and I will be your waitress this evening. You can choose from any of our meal options on the menu. Or would you like to hear about our specials?”
Michael and Alessa nodded, and the young woman proceeded to rattle off about six different specialties for the night. Michael got lost on the first one.
“I think I’d like to try the home-made gnocchi with truffles.” Michael looked at Alessa.
“Make that two.” She shut the menu.
“Oh, and a bottle of sparkling water, per favore.” Michael had quickly come to learn that Alessa usually only drank sparkling water. He’d also learned to enjoy the drink with a meal himself instead of soda.
“Mi scusi, dov’è la toilette?” Alessa asked.
The waitress explained where the bathroom was, and Alessa eased out of their booth.
“I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the restaurant.
Michael tapped the waitress on the arm before she left. “Excuse me, but what is the price of the gnocchi special?” He liked to know what he was in for—see if he could afford dessert for them both—but hadn’t wanted to do a price-check in front of his girlfriend.
“Thirteen five.”
“Thirteen five?” he clarified. Must mean thirteen euro fifty.
“Sì.”
Not badly priced. Pretty much in
line with the other pastas on the menu and what he’d seen in other restaurants.
Soon Alessa returned from the bathroom, and they chatted all the way through a bottle of sparkling water before their meal arrived. Michael ordered a second bottle.
“Do you mind if I pray for the meal before we eat?”
Alessa nodded and bowed her head.
Michael stretched over the table to grasp her hands before bowing his own head and giving thanks for their meal.
Immediately after the “Amen,” Alessa stuck her fork into a gnocchi and lifted it to her mouth. She closed her eyes and moaned as she chewed. She swallowed. “This is delicious! A good choice.” She stabbed another like she was spearfishing in the ocean.
The meal was tasty, although Michael didn’t really know what the fuss about truffles was all about. He seriously couldn’t taste anything out of the ordinary. Maybe he just didn’t know what he was supposed to be tasting. Either that, or those truffle shavings were minute.
When his plate was empty, he set his knife and fork down.
His hand moved to his jacket pocket, and his heart thumped against his chest at the reason he’d had to opt for a scooter and not a fancy bike like Matteo’s. Should he do it now, or later as he’d planned?
Reaching to the center of the table, Michael plucked a small blue flower from the colorful selection in the tall, glass vase. They wouldn’t miss one tiny flower. He twirled it between his fingers. Was it a forget-me-not, or were they a lighter blue—not quite so intense? If it was one, how perfect. He leaned a little farther across to give the blue bloom to Alessa.
Her hand trembled as she took the flower. She lowered her gaze, remaining silent until it became painfully uncomfortable.
“My love, is everything all right?”
Offering him a nod, she lifted her head. Her eyes held a moist sheen. She gave him a wobbly smile and dabbed the tips of her fingers to the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Alessa…” Michael scooted over to her side of their booth and drew her into his arms. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She shrugged and sucked in a ragged breath. “I— It’s my papà.”
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