All I Believe (Firsts and Forever, #10)(36)

“I’d never do that. I’m going to cherish this forever. Even if I become desperate for money someday, I still won’t sell it. If I end up homeless, this will hang on the wall of my cardboard box.”

“You like it that much?”

“I love it, not just because it’s beautiful, but because it’s from you.”

He smiled at me. “I’m sure it’s not news to you that art is incredibly important to me, so your reaction to that painting brought me a lot of happiness.”

I slid close and put my head on his shoulder, still hugging the painting, and he put his arm around me. “Thank you,” I said softly.

“You’re welcome, Nicky.”

“I like it when you call me that.”

He tilted his head and rested his cheek against my hair. “It’s so tempting to bust out all kinds of mushy pet names for you. I have at least a dozen of them all cued up and ready to go, but I know I need to pace myself, so I’m sticking with Nicky for now.”

“It’s funny, you don’t strike me as a mushy pet names kind of guy.”

“Oh I’m not. Usually. Something about you just brings it out in me.” I grinned at that and kissed his shoulder.



*****



We went by Fiona’s workplace and picked up a key, then walked the four blocks to her apartment. She lived in a sunny one-bedroom in an old building with cream-colored stucco walls and beautiful tiled floors. I dropped off the painting and Nana’s present, and then Luca and I went to the market, where I bought entirely too much stuff.

It was such a simple act, but it felt good to shop with another person. Luca was great company. He laughed and joked about the things I was buying to try to put together an ‘American’ meal, even though the Sicilian market didn’t carry anything truly over-the-top like spray cheese or Twinkies. He also gave funny suggestions for stuff we could make, some of which I actually went with.

Luca helped me haul the groceries back to the apartment, and then we got busy cooking. He draped his suit jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and rolled back his sleeves, and despite his promises he did try to help a bit. “Wow,” I said at one point, grinning as I leaned against the stone counter and watched him trying to dice a tomato, “you’ve literally never cooked before, have you?”

He grinned too and said, “Don’t judge me.”

“There’s no judging, but here’s a suggestion. Try holding the knife in a different way, not like it’s the shower scene from Psycho and you’re trying to murder the tomato.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay, not exactly. But still.”

He chuckled as he tossed the knife on the cutting board and pulled me into his arms. “Are we done cooking yet? You’ve made enough to feed fifty people.”

I’d made three different versions of tuna casseroles, in the hope that one of them would come close to what Jessie remembered. “I’m all set for now. The dessert and appetizers are done and the casseroles are all ready to go. We just have to put them in the oven when people start arriving. Throw your murdered tomatoes on top of the green salad and I’ll stick it in the refrigerator.” Okay, so the salad wasn’t strictly American, but I’d made some Thousand Island dressing to go with it, so I figured that qualified.


When the salad was put away, Luca poured two glasses of wine and handed me one, then took my hand and led me onto Fiona’s little balcony. We got cozy on her lounge chair, which was surrounded by potted plants. I put my head on Luca’s chest, and he kissed my hair and said, “I could get used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“You know, the whole domestic bliss thing. Quiet evenings at home with someone special.”

“That’s pretty far removed from your current international jetsetter lifestyle.”

He said, “I travel for work. Jetsetters travel for fun. Big difference.”

“Still. This has to pale by comparison.”

“Actually, what pales by comparison are all those lonely nights on the road. I’m turning thirty in a few weeks, and have been doing this job since I was twenty-five. I can’t even count the number of meals I’ve eaten by myself, or how many nights I’ve spent in random hotel rooms with no one beside me in bed.”

“I can see how it might wear thin after a while.”

“It does, and it was a sticking point in my one serious relationship. It’s really no wonder he wanted to keep our relationship open. I wasn’t around enough.”

“That shouldn’t have mattered,” I said. “Monogamy isn’t based on how much the other person is around, it’s based on love and commitment.”

“Apparently Axel never got that message.”

“Your ex is named Axel?” Luca nodded and I asked, “What is he, a rock star?”

“Investment banker.”

“I was close. Does he live in Rome?”

“Yup.”

“So, he’s Italian.”

“Yes and no. He grew up in the U.S. and his father’s American. His mother’s Italian though, so he has dual citizenship and decided to relocate to Rome after college.”

“Why?”

“Presumably because he’d already slept with everyone in the U.S., and wanted to start fresh in a new country.”