Bella Cigna

by Wendi Dass

  Sarah sauntered up, batted her lashes, and placed her hands on his chest. The warmth and firmness of his body threatened to unravel her, but she steadied her voice. “I suppose that would only be appropriate if we were alone.”

  He softened his brow line. “Oh…no…I enjoyed it.”

  Smiling, she plucked back her hands. The operation was going better than she’d expected. But now, for the hardest part—extracting details on his current relationship. On—she secretly cringed—Antoinette. “But what am I thinking? Of course, Antoinette wouldn’t approve. Will she be joining us as well?” She turned her attention to a tray of empty cannoli shells and a bowl of a white fluffy substance she presumed to be the filling.

  “Oh, no. She’s out of town.”

  “Visiting family, I suppose?”

  “No. Work.”

  “Work?” Sarah spun on her heel. “Who works on Christmas?”

  He shrugged. “Financial advisers trying to secure a Chinese firm.”

  “Ah. Well, so long as she makes you happy. She does make you happy?” Sarah stared up at him. His honest eyes would reveal the truth.

  But he shifted his gaze, casting his attention in the direction of the cannoli. “I don’t know. I guess so.” He picked up an empty shell.

  Sarah tried to measure his feelings by the expression on his face, but it matched his response—indifference.

  “How about we concentrate on dessert? That’s a less loaded topic. Plus”—he dipped his finger in the white substance—“we’d better get these done before I eat all the filling.” He brought his finger to his mouth.

  Impulsively, Sarah grabbed his hand. Was the sultry outfit to blame? Or that she was alone with him? She didn’t know. For whatever reason, she couldn’t hold herself back. She wrapped her mouth around his finger and licked off the sweetened mascarpone.

  With each stroke of her tongue, Eduardo widened his eyes.

  “Mm.” She closed her eyes as she lapped.

  A cannoli shell snapped with a crack, and Sarah opened her eyes. A crumbled cannoli lay in Eduardo’s other hand, its shattered pieces falling to the floor.

  Sarah released his finger. Tongue explorations were definitely not part of the plan. “I’m sorry.” She bent to clean up the broken shell.

  “No, it’s okay.” He knelt beside her. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Neither was I.”

  He laughed lightly. “I think I need a glass of wine. Can I get you one?”

  Maybe some alcohol would help her relax? No, she needed to focus, not indulge in her desires. She smiled. “Maybe just some water.”

  He nodded and opened the refrigerator.

  As he prepared drinks, Sarah reminded herself of her plan. Antoinette. Right. Focus! “So, does Antoinette like wine?”

  Sighing, Eduardo dropped his shoulders and handed her the water. “Don’t all Italians?”

  Sarah frowned, picked up a cannoli shell, and spooned in some of the filling.

  “Let me help you with that.” Eduardo spooned the filling into a plastic bag.

  Sarah sipped her drink. He sure liked skirting the Antoinette issue. Was that because their relationship wasn’t serious? Or because their relationship was?

  He handed her the bag.

  With a steady hand, Sarah squeezed the mixture into the cannoli.

  Eduardo wagged a finger and took the bag. “You have to squeeze firmly and consistently.” He filled the cannoli like an expert pastry chef, placing a rosette dollop on the top. He cocked a brow and gave a devilish grin.

  As she rolled her eyes, Sarah snatched back the bag. She did her best to emulate his process, forgoing the flourish on the top.

  Eduardo gave a nod of approval.

  As the stack of unfilled cannoli dwindled, uneasiness crept into Sarah’s chest. She had no idea how he felt about Antoinette. “So…. have you been together long—you and Antoinette?”

  Eduardo laughed. “You sure are asking a lot about her.” He wiped his hands on his apron, placed his hand on Sarah’s waist, and spun her. “Are you bothered that I’m seeing someone?”

  “Why should I be bothered?” Sarah delivered her well-rehearsed response. She let the silence hang for a second. “Would you be bothered if I was dating someone?”

  “You mean other than me?”

  She smiled—now, they were getting somewhere—and nodded.

  He pulled her closer, locking his gaze with hers. “Yes, Sarah. It would bother me very much.”

  A wide smile spread across Sarah’s face. This revelation was more than she could have hoped for. She reached up to embrace him.

  “Papa! Papa!” Lucia called as she pranced into the kitchen.

  Eduardo dropped his hand from Sarah’s waist. “Yes, Lucia?”

  “Have you finished your alone time with Miss Mill—I mean Miss Sarah yet?”

  Sarah couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I suppose, Lucia.” He turned to Sarah. “Let’s finish our conversation later.”

  With a nod, Sarah exited the kitchen, wondering if she might have some more alone time later that evening.

  Chapter 23

  All through dinner, Sarah pined for a few moments alone with Eduardo. Not even Eduardo’s flaky, baked cod or spice-coated shrimp could draw her mind from the question yet to be answered. Would he give up Antoinette to be with her? Mom made several futile attempts to give them some privacy.

  “Lucia, dear, won’t you help me get the coffee for dessert?” she offered.

  “Papa always makes the coffee.” Lucia stood tall and smiled.

  And later, after everyone licked their plates clean of cannoli filling, Mom turned toward the child. “Lucia, would you mind showing me to the bathroom?”

  Lucia reached for another cannoli. “Second door on the right.”

  Sarah’s mother gave a feeble smile.

  Of all the times for a mother’s meddling not to work. Sarah gripped her knees under the table to keep her heels from jittering.

  “Papa, can I watch TV?”

  “Yes,” answered Eduardo, Sarah, and Mom, in unison.

  “I’ll join you.” Mom rose from the table.

  Sarah took a casual sip of her water.

  Eduardo cupped his coffee. “So”—he leaned forward on one elbow—“we’ve talked a lot about me tonight. What have you been up to these past few months?” He tipped back his cup.

  “Well, I would like to say I’ve visited all of Rome by now, but I’m not even close.”

  “No?” He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “No long walks along the Tiber? No candlelight dinners on Via dei Coronari?”

  “Long walks alone, yes.” Sarah set down her glass. “But I’ve never heard of the Via dei Coronari. And candlelight dinners? Please.” She swatted the air. “The closest I’ve come is tea at Al Forno’s with Anna. And the tea was total crap, by the way.”

  “Tea!” He smacked the table and stood. “I almost forgot.” He cut the space to the kitchen in two long strides.

  Sarah took advantage of his momentary absence to shift her legs from under the table, crossing them so her lean calves dangled in his direction.

  Eduardo returned with a wooden box. He set it on the table and lifted the lid.

  Inside was an assortment of teas: reds, blacks, greens, and even herbals, all neatly arranged in their paper parcels. “Eduardo! I can’t believe you went to such trouble.”

  Smiling, he shrugged.

  “Really.” Sarah placed a hand on his. “Dinner itself was enough. But the tea, too?”

  He cupped his other hand over hers. “Eh. The octopus was chewy.”

  “When isn’t octopus chewy?” Sarah laughed.

  He didn’t reply; he only smiled and gently stroked the back of her hand.

  Adrenaline coursed through Sarah’s veins. Why couldn’t Lucia and Mom disappear for a while? Why couldn’t Antoinette disappear indefinitely?

  Focus.

  She plucked her hand from his gr
asp and leafed through the teas. “When does Antoinette get back?”

  Eduardo leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He let out a sigh through pursed lips. “A couple of days.” He flicked his gaze in the direction of Sarah’s mother. “And how long is your mother visiting?”

  “The same.”

  An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Muffled Italian cartoons whined in the background. Sarah’s heart pounded. If she was waiting for a better opportunity to tell him she wanted him back, she wouldn’t find one. “Eduar—” she started.

  “Does she need any souvenirs?” Eduardo said at the same time.

  “Souvenirs?”

  “Mrs. Miller,” he called over to Sarah’s mother, “might you be interested in a shopping outing with Lucia and me tomorrow?” He placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “And your daughter, as well?”

  “Why, that sounds lovely, Eduardo. What did you have in mind?”

  Sarah relaxed her shoulder under Eduardo’s grasp. Tomorrow she would tell him, for sure.

  ****

  Just after ten the next morning, Sarah and her mother arrived at the Piazza Navona. The hallmark of central Rome was covered with vendors selling marionettes, rosaries, and glass ornaments blown in Venetian factories.

  Eduardo clutched Lucia’s hand and guided her through the crowd.

  With her mother by her side, Sarah walked just behind. The air sent a chill over her face but hopefully a few moments alone with Eduardo would warm her cheeks.

  Eduardo pointed out a food stall selling roasted chestnuts and pressed a coin into Lucia’s hand. “Mrs. Miller, would you mind taking Lucia?”

  Sarah’s mom beamed. “Only if I can get some, too.”

  “My treat.” Eduardo dropped another coin in Lucia’s hand.

  Lucia dragged Sarah’s mother down the crowded promenade.

  When they were out of earshot, Eduardo turned to Sarah and grabbed her hand. “Are you warm enough?” He rubbed her hand between his.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “I am now.”

  He smiled back, his breath fogging in the air. He strolled with her in silence, hand in hand.

  Words didn’t come as easily as the previous evening. Sarah knew the words that needed to be said, and perhaps Eduardo did as well. Was his silence also from nerves? Or was he waiting for her to speak first? Waiting for her to tell him she was ready for a relationship. Ready for him.

  She cleared her throat. “I hear Traviata is opening soon.”

  “Is it? I hadn’t heard.”

  “So, you won’t be taking Antoinette then?”

  He grimaced. “Sarah, things with Antoinette, they’re…”

  Eduardo continued, but Sarah didn’t hear him. She only heard someone shouting her name—and the voice wasn’t her mother’s. “No,” she whispered.

  “Sarah!” Marco’s voice rang clear again.

  Sarah froze. Her stomach clenched.

  From within the crowd, Marco emerged, pushing past Eduardo and embracing her.

  Eduardo recoiled, his chocolate eyes pinching under his glasses.

  Marco hugged her like she was his long-lost love. Sarah broke free from his scrawny arms. “Excuse us,” she said to Eduardo, grabbing Marco’s shirt and tugging him to the side. “What are you doing?” Her voice was as cool as the air around them.

  “Sarah. Is it really you?” He reached for her again.

  “Stop!” Sarah stepped back.

  With a tightened jaw, Eduardo flashed a stern gaze.

  Sarah returned a strained smile, raised a hand, and mouthed, “Just a minute,” then turned back to Marco with narrowed eyes. “What do you want?”

  “Want?” He ran a hand through his long, flowing hair. “I don’t know. I thought we could go out again. Last time was so great.”

  He stared with his puppy-dog eyes. Great? Of course, he thought last time was great. He’d gotten laid. Stepping back again, she glanced in Eduardo’s direction. Lucia and Mom were beside him now. Furrowed brows marked their faces. Heat flushed her cheeks. If she didn’t get rid of Marco fast, Mom might start an inquisition. She squared her shoulders. “Listen, Marco, I’m sorry, but…” She needed an excuse.

  Across the way, Eduardo marched toward them.

  Think of something…anything! Sarah’s heart pounded.

  Eduardo neared.

  Sarah could scarcely breathe. The only thing worse than Sister Maria knowing about her one-night stand would be Eduardo knowing.

  Aha—Eduardo! He was just the excuse she needed, especially since Marco thought Eduardo was her husband’s name. She refocused on Marco. “I’ve gotten back together with my husband.” A gritty edge entered her voice. “And he’s here.” She flicked a brow in Eduardo’s direction. “So please, if I mean anything at all to you, please go. Now.”

  Marco appraised Eduardo. His easygoing, youthful face scrunched.

  “Eduardo,” Sarah called, “I’ll be right there.” She flashed Eduardo a smile then motioned to Marco with stern eyes for him to walk in the opposite direction.

  With slumped shoulders, Marco stalked away.

  Perhaps Marco recalled the name. Perhaps he finally realized Sarah wasn’t interested. Sarah didn’t know, and she didn’t care. All she cared was Marco was gone. She let go of the cold air caught in her chest and crept back to Eduardo. “So, what were you saying?” She placed a hand on his sleeve.

  Eduardo’s gaze followed Marco into the crowd. He stiffened his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. Peering down through his glasses, his steady gaze questioning, he sighed.

  Sarah’s cheek twitched, her smile faltering. If a candlelight dinner on Via dei Coronari made Eduardo jealous, how would he react to her having spent the night with Marco?

  “It’s not important,” he said in a whispered growl. He turned on his heel, brushing off her hand.

  Sarah stood as still as the statue of Neptune, as cold as the frozen puddle surrounding him in the fountain.

  For the rest of the outing, no one spoke about Antoinette, no one spoke about the upcoming opera production, and, certainly, no one spoke about resuming their relationship.

  Chapter 24

  The cacophony of horns, squealing tires, and rolling suitcases was deafening. Cars cut off buses, which pulled in front of double-parked taxis. Sarah hugged her mother goodbye, the hollowness inside her a stark contrast to this city full of life. Hollowness not because Mom was leaving, but because Eduardo had barely spoken to her since Marco’s appearance.

  Sarah gave Mom a send-off wave then wrapped her coat tighter around herself. She waded through idling cars, their exhaust hovering in the frigid air, back to Eduardo’s black Mercedes.

  When she tugged the car door shut, silence greeted her.

  Eduardo looked over his left shoulder and pulled into the zooming traffic.

  “Thanks again for driving my mom,” Sarah said.

  “Driving was the least I could do.” He kept his gaze fixed on the road.

  Sarah pondered another conversation starter. Where was the easy banter between them? The casual touches?

  Damn Marco! If not for him, Eduardo would probably be calling Antoinette right now, apologizing for ending things over the phone. But no. Now, an offer to drive her mother to the airport was just a gesture of politeness rather than an excuse to spend time with Sarah.

  Finally, she was alone with him. No children pestered. No mothers hovered. Just she and Eduardo sat in the tight confines of a car for a thirty-minute ride. Sarah couldn’t ask for a better opportunity to set things straight. So, why did she feel like she’d swallowed a baguette whole?

  She gripped her knees, rubbing the denim fabric under her palms. These were the jeans she’d worn the day he’d officially asked her out—the jeans had drawn his gaze to her hips and thighs. He gazed with eyes so hungry his eyes could have jumped through his glasses that day. And now? He certainly wasn’t appraising her today.

  With a sigh, she slumped in the seat and shifted her g
aze back to the window. Outside, scooters weaved through traffic. Stacks of signs, their names and symbols unfamiliar, lined the road. To the east, St. Peter’s Basilica arched in the skyline.

  Sister Maria’s words suddenly flooded Sarah’s mind. We have to put ourselves in uncomfortable situations to get what we want.

  From the passenger seat, she stole another glimpse at Eduardo. Was he driving faster than usual? Was he that anxious to get rid of her?

  Uncomfortable, indeed. Sarah took a deep breath and plunged in. “I’m sorry about yesterday. About the little interruption.”

  “Interruption.” Eduardo gripped the wheel tighter and accelerated.

  “Yes. I honestly had no idea Mar—” She bit her lip.

  Eduardo gave a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.

  “Had no idea my friend would be there.”

  “Neither did I.” His voice, devoid of its mellow tone, sounded flat and cold.

  “Again, I’m sorry. Really.” She placed a hand on his sleeve. He didn’t pull back. That small glimmer of hope encouraged her to continue. “I was hoping that we could have talked more…” She hesitated, swallowed hard, and tapped her toes. “About us.”

  Eduardo snapped his head in her direction. At the same time, his foot caught the brake, and the car jerked. Horns blared. “Sorry,” Eduardo returned his attention to the road.

  Sarah pulled back her hand and clasped it with the other in her lap. “If you don’t want to talk about it—”

  “No,”—he cleared his throat—“I do.”

  She loosened her clenched hands. “Well, I just wanted you to know that I’ve decided I’m ready. Ready to date again.”

  He flicked his gaze toward her then back to the road.

  “And,” she continued, her voice shaking, “I know that you’re with Antoinette now, but I wanted to tell you that if things should change, I­—” Her voice broke, but she forced herself to finish. “I’d like to date you again. If you’re interested, that is.”

  Her heart pounded. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Slowing the car, Eduardo pulled into a parking lot. He shifted the car into Park and turned to face her. “Sarah, this thing with Antoinette is nothing. Nothing compared to how I feel about…” The sentence died in his mouth. He shifted his gaze back to the windshield.