Bella Cigna

by Wendi Dass

  “Excellent! These are all good!” Sarah smiled. “Keep going.”

  “Well, all right.” Sighing, he pinched his lips with his fingers and scrunched his brow.

  But then he relented, and for the remainder of the short trip, he spilled out the requirements until Sarah had no more room on her sheet of paper. With a new employee, he could focus more on his personal life—spend more quality time with Lucia…with her. Was it too much to hope for?

  ****

  One hundred and fifty miles later, Sarah arrived with Eduardo at the Uffizi just as the gallery was opening. The city was asleep, and the winter sun peeked through the arched stone entrance. The waters of the adjacent Arno trickled in the background. Inside, shoe heels clicked on checkered marbled floors, and busts and full-size statues decorated the halls leading to the galleries.

  Sarah didn’t know what to look at first. She scanned the handheld map, her fingers trembling. She yearned to see everything at once. Botticelli? Da Vinci? Eduardo’s finger appeared on the edge of the map.

  He lowered the map. “We have all day, Sarah. Take your time.”

  All day? But she could spend an entire week and still want more. So much of the city was yet to be seen.

  Behind Eduardo, the vibrant red of Raphael’s Madonna drew her, and she raced off to study it. The hours passed quickly; she was so preoccupied with the art works.

  In the early afternoon, Eduardo went off to pick up a gift for Lucia in the museum shop.

  Sarah circled back to the Botticelli exhibit. She wanted to take another moment with one of the museum’s most famous works, The Birth of Venus.

  Bright reds and blues, vivid after some five hundred years, filled the canvas. The pale-skinned, blonde-haired goddess of love stood at its center, demurely covering her private regions as angels floated beside her. Sarah admired the delicate brushstrokes, the sharp contours of faces, and the shadows capturing the details of the human body. A blush crept to her cheeks. Did Eduardo find Venus’s curves attractive, or would he rather cover them up, like the nymph in the painting?

  She dropped her gaze to the floor. Was that why she revisited the painting? To examine Botticelli’s capturing of human anatomy? To question what beauty really was?

  Again, Sarah lifted her gaze. Even without the summary in the brochure, the title alone was enough to explain the painting’s meaning. The Birth of Venus. Love. Temptation. Choice. She studied Cupid, his dropped jaw and widened eyes as he took in Venus’s naked body. Two lovers whose course was meant to collide.

  Sarah stiffened her shoulders. Was she ready to fall in love again? Or should she be focusing on her future, following up on the job application she’d submitted with a letter to the principal?

  “Ready to go?” Eduardo asked.

  Sarah turned to stare into Eduardo’s gentle eyes. Could people stop themselves from falling in love?

  Eduardo cleared his throat. “Unless, of course, you need more time.”

  “No. I’m ready. We’ve got to leave time for the Accademia.”

  “And lunch.” He looped an arm in hers.

  “Aww,” she teased, “you’re putting off visiting your twin?”

  Eduardo scrunched together his brows.

  “The David.” Sarah started toward the doorway. “Please tell me someone has commented on your resemblance. The dark, curly hair. The Greek nose. You even have a voice like an angel!”

  Eduardo threw his head back with a laugh. “I don’t play the harp.”

  “Well, there is that.”

  He stopped at the doorway, unlinked his arm, and drew it to his shoulder, an imaginary slingshot at the ready. Puffing out his chest, he assumed the David’s stance. “But I do have his physique, don’t you think?”

  Admiring his square shoulders and playful grin, Sarah smirked. She could get used to this carefree side of Eduardo. “Oh, really?”

  “Maybe not exactly.”

  Sarah laughed.

  Eduardo peered over Sarah’s shoulder at the painting of Venus. “She really is beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is.” She gulped and ran a hand over her waist and down her hip. Very soon, he’d study Sarah’s body—each curve and crevice. Would he find her as beautiful as Venus? Or would she turn him off?

  Chapter 28

  By the time Eduardo brought her to the hotel room, Sarah was tired, her feet ached, and a tightness pinched her back. She made a beeline for the king-sized bed and flopped onto a cloud of blankets. The mattress nestled her sore body and down pillows cradled her head. How had she survived four months in a lumpy, misfit bed?

  She kicked off her shoes and stretched out her legs. Ha! Her feet didn’t even hang off the end. Sarah closed her eyes and relaxed. The dreamy pillow-top supported every square inch of her back, arms, and legs.

  “Comfortable?” Eduardo asked.

  A moan escaped Sarah’s lips, and she opened her eyes.

  Eduardo stood above her, his chest raising and lowering with shallow breaths.

  His gaze filled with the duskiness of desire, and a tension crept into Sarah’s muscles that not even the luxurious bed could relax. Was the tightness from her nerves? Excitement? Both?

  With his gaze still fastened on hers, Eduardo reached for something next to the bed.

  A wine chiller. Was that bottle of champagne there all along? Sarah narrowed her eyes. “You’re quite determined,” she teased.

  “Nothing wrong with loosening you up a bit.” He grabbed the neck of the bottle, easing it from the ice.

  “I think this bed is doing a fine job of that.”

  “That good, eh?” In a swift motion, Eduardo slipped off his shoes, firmed his grip on the champagne bottle, and hopped over her. He landed beside her with a thump. “Ah”—he fell back onto the pillows—“you’re quite right. But who can resist a glass of champagne?”

  “On an empty stomach?”

  “Why don’t we order in?”

  Sarah swallowed hard, unsure if she was ready for their alone time to start so soon. She nodded.

  Grinning, Eduardo uncorked the bottle.

  Sarah studied his hands as he worked—his strong grasp of the slick base and his gentle nudge of the cork. She shivered, her insides tingling like the champagne, ready to bubble over.

  Eduardo freed the cork with a pop, and frothy foam spilled out, dripping over his hand and onto the bed.

  Without saying a word, Sarah grabbed the fluted glasses from the nightstand.

  Eduardo filled them.

  Trading him a glass for the bottle, she returned the champagne to ice.

  “To no interruptions.” Eduardo raised his glass.

  “No interruptions.” She clinked his glass. She took a sip—enough to get a taste of its sweetness and to calm the uneasiness that grew in her belly, but not so much that she might forget everything the next morning. The longing in his gaze returned.

  “So, any requests for dinner?” Eduardo sank into his elbow.

  “Whatever you suggest.” Easing onto her side, she mirrored Eduardo’s position.

  Eduardo lifted a brow, downed the rest of his drink, and tossed the empty glass on the far side of the bed. “How about an appetizer?” He danced fingers on her knee.

  Lowering her gaze to the glass, she searched for a response. But chatter filled her head. Which pair of underwear am I wearing again? I did remember to put on the black, right? My bra—is the push-up feature obvious? And if the bra wasn’t right, would she be discarded as quickly as the glass?

  Eduardo tapped fingers up her thigh and over her hip.

  Sarah squirmed away. As she jumped to her feet, she spilled her champagne.

  Eduardo stiffened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  The lust in his eyes dimmed. “No…I…” Why couldn’t she push aside her insecurities? Why couldn’t she just enjoy herself? With a shaky hand, Sarah placed her glass on the nightstand and chewed her lower lip. Don’t screw up. She forced a smile. “I j
ust need a second.” Then she dug inside her bag for the condom, placed it on the nightstand, and made her retreat to the bathroom.

  “What’s this?” Eduardo asked.

  Sarah stopped mid-step, and her stomach turned. Please, God, not the contraception conversation. She slowly turned back to face him.

  Between two fingers, Eduardo held the shiny packet, staring at it with crinkled brows. “You only brought one?” He tossed the condom on the floor.

  The queasiness in her stomach was replaced by a knot the size of Mount Vesuvius.

  Eduardo stood, strode to the closet, and yanked out his suitcase.

  Something rustled as he hunched over the bag.

  He returned to the bed and set a bulk-sized box of condoms on the nightstand. “For you, I come prepared.”

  Sarah erupted in laughter.

  “What?” Eduardo shrugged. “As if one would be enough.” He trotted over. “You’re beautiful.” He grasped her hands and pulled her closer to the desk light. Extending his distance, he looked her up and down. His gaze lingered on certain spots: her neck, her breasts, and her hips.

  With each pause of his gaze, the brown of his eyes grew richer, and the space between his breaths shortened. Sarah removed his glasses and lowered them to the floor.

  Eduardo grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close, covering her mouth with his.

  His body warmed her flesh, and she went limp in his arms. Sometime later, she awoke to the sound of the shower, but she didn’t open her eyes. She nuzzled into the sheets, and the lingering warmth of their entangled bodies encompassed her. Eduardo’s scent—so clean, so fresh—mixed with the sticky sweetness of their coupling greeted her like the aroma of a freshly steeped cup of tea. The muffled tune of the brindisi from La traviata sounded through the rush of water.

  “Libiamo! Libiamo!” Eduardo sang.

  Sarah pushed herself up on her elbow. Dusky streaks of light dipped in through the window. Puffs of steam escaped under the bathroom door. Eduardo’s melody continued.

  Eduardo. Her smile deepened.

  Eduardo. She reclined back on the bed.

  Eduardo. She closed her eyes.

  “Oh, Eduardo,” a husky voice whispered. Heat rushed to Sarah’s cheeks, and she tightened her jaw—the voice was hers. The hands that clawed Eduardo’s back, and drew him closer as he rocked gently back and forth, were hers, too.

  She snapped open her eyes. Was she too passionate? Too reckless? She was the one who’d suggested they forgo the condoms after they’d blown through three. The barrier seemed unnecessary—she wasn’t worried about getting pregnant, and they’d discussed the disease issue before. She’d longed to be closer—to feel him in every possible way.

  From the bathroom, Eduardo’s voice drifted to a whistle, also Traviata, but not the brindisi. He whistled the love duet.

  Sarah relaxed the muscles in her face. No, she wasn’t overzealous—at least not by Eduardo’s standards. What was wrong with enjoying sex, anyway? Anna certainly did. Meredith, too.

  So much time had passed—too much time—since she’d been intimate with a man. How many years had passed since she and Philip made love—since sex was more than a hasty chafing that coincided with Sarah’s ovulation?

  A knock sounded at the hotel room door.

  “Servicio!” a man shouted.

  “Un momento!” She draped the comforter over herself and opened the door.

  “Tu colazione.” The man pushed a cart into the room.

  Order in. Sarah stifled a laugh, noticing for the first time a rumble in her stomach. They’d forgotten dinner completely.

  As soon as she closed the door, she turned her attention to the food. Sliced meats and cheeses, crusty breads, and gooey pastries filled half of the cart. The other half contained steaming coffee, a pot of tea, and a carafe of milk. What should she try first? A meat and cheese sandwich? A pastry? Wait—was that a crock of Choctella? The growl grew even louder, and she smothered a croissant with chocolate spread.

  Italians. Sarah took a bite and sweetness nipped her tongue. They love their food. What had Anna said about Italians? About sex and their food? She shoved another bite in her mouth and retrieved her phone. She pulled up Anna’s string of texts—all unanswered.

  —How was it?—

  —Wellllll?—

  —Sarah?—

  —Are you ignoring me?—

  Sarah opened the messenger to reply. At the same moment, the shower stopped, leaving only Eduardo’s whistle echoing off the bathroom walls. Did she have time send a quick message?

  The bathroom door creaked open.

  I guess not. Sarah jumped back in bed, discarding the phone and croissant on the nightstand.

  Eduardo emerged through the steamy vapor. “You’re up.”

  Sarah nodded, her gaze hanging on him. With a towel wrapped around his waist, Eduardo emerged with beads of water sprinkled on his bare shoulders. His peppered hair was tightly coiled from washing. Her insides tingled, the feeling of bubbling over returning.

  “I see breakfast arrived.” He grabbed a slice of cheese and a piece of bread and tore off a hunk of each with his teeth. “I told you we’d order in,” he said with his mouth full.

  “Better late than never.”

  “I think that can be said about more than just the food.” He winked, set down the bread and cheese, and settled on the edge of the bed. “Think you’ll be ready to catch the early train?”

  She stretched her arms above before smoothing her hands over the comforter. “That would mean saying goodbye to this bed.”

  Eduardo rested a hand on hers and drew his fingers over the back. “You know, my bed isn’t much different. Why don’t you stay with me?”

  “Tonight?” She stared up at him.

  “Whenever you want.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed her knuckles with his lips.

  “What about my work?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll drop you off.”

  Sarah hesitated. What if someone saw her with him? Like the girls. Or Sister Maria.

  “Don’t worry about Sister Maria.” Eduardo searched her expression. “Leave that to me.”

  “Well, in that case…” Was she dreaming? How could things get any better?

  Eduardo leaned in. “Mia bella cigna, what would I do without you?”

  Sarah didn’t respond. His lips tickled her neck, and the essence of spice and freshness wafted from his hair. But in that moment, she knew exactly what she would text to Anna.

  You were wrong. Sex is way better than the food.

  Chapter 29

  For the next few weeks, the days passed slowly. The hands of the classroom clock refused to find the twelve and the three, and the afternoons—in the hours between when the children left, and Eduardo picked up Sarah—were even worse. Not even Sarah’s sketchpad could distract her. And hall duty? Interminable. How could a night away from Eduardo feel so long? Especially when the nights spent with him, which were more a regularity than not, slipped into morning faster than Eduardo rolled his ‘r’s.

  Time was fickle, especially when measured by Eduardo’s presence.

  So, when Eduardo’s weekend with Lucia neared, Sarah didn’t want to let him go. Of course, she wanted him to spend time with his daughter—for both their sakes—but she didn’t want to miss a minute of his time. Then she felt guilty for feeling anything but happiness.

  “I can’t believe a month has passed,” she said one evening as she dined with him. “What do you two have planned?” She hoped her carefully crafted smile masked the heaviness in her chest.

  “Two?” Eduardo lifted his brows. “Well, naturally you’ll be joining us.”

  He wants me to join them? The weight in her chest lifted then bored down again. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure.” He squeezed her hand. “Actually, I insist.”

  “Well, okay. If you insist.” She relaxed her smile and squeezed his hand. She wouldn’t be spending the weekend alone after
all.

  ****

  “Cheese?” Eduardo brought a block of Parmesan to the table.

  In Eduardo’s flat, Sarah sat beside Lucia, observing the interactions of the father-daughter weekend.

  “Me! Me!” Lucia squealed, uncurling a forkful of spaghetti.

  Eduardo paused, shaver in hand. “Is that how we ask?” His gaze drifted to Sarah. “Especially in front of a guest.”

  “Please!” She bounced on her chair.

  Eduardo’s admonishment apparently did nothing to dampen her energy.

  He gave Lucia a generous helping then turned to Sarah. “Let me guess.” He exchanged the shaver for a grater. “Just a dusting?”

  Sarah smiled. “Don’t you know me well?”

  Eduardo shrugged and applied a scant layer to her plate.

  “That’s all you want?” Lucia asked.

  Red sauce outlined Lucia’s mouth. Sarah placed the napkin on her lap. “Someday you’ll understand. Well”—she swept her gaze over Eduardo’s elephant-sized portion—“maybe.”

  Lucia knitted her brows.

  “Nonsense!” Eduardo twirled a heap of pasta on his fork. “Who doesn’t love a woman with curves? Take Miss Sarah’s curves. I never knew a woman could have such perfect curves. Maybe it’s an American thing.”

  Sarah paused. Heat prickled her cheeks. Under the table, she slammed a foot on Eduardo’s.

  “Ow!” Eduardo hollered through cheeks stuffed with spaghetti. “What was that for?”

  With lips pursed, Sarah motioned with her eyes toward Lucia.

  Eduardo leaned in toward Sarah. “What? You don’t want her to know?” He spoke in a hushed tone.

  “Know what?” Lucia glanced between the adults. “You mean about you two?”

  Sarah froze and looked at Eduardo. “You told her?”

  “Me?” Eduardo rubbed the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t tell her without asking you first.”

  “No one told me,” Lucia said. “I overheard Mama talking to Leonardo.”

  Eduardo gave a thick sigh.

  “Leonardo De Luca?” Sarah gasped.