“Come on then, Hunter,” I said, throwing him one of his ubiquitous white T-shirts. Let’s go see what Signora Battelli has got us for breakfast.”
Breakfast: the word was deeply inadequate for what Signora Battelli had laid out. It was more like a banquet of breakfast foods: fresh oranges and wild berries; panini; sweet rolls; fette biscottate; muesli; three different homemade yogurts; caciotta and pecorino baccellone cheese; and a chef’s delight of salumeria – cold meat – including the local specialty of wild boar.
Sebastian’s eyes glowed, and he completed at least three circuits of the buffet table before he was satisfied, or possibly too embarrassed to go around a fourth time. Maybe not: I didn’t think Sebastian did ‘embarrassed’.
At the next table sat a couple of American students who were wide-eyed at the spread in front of them. One of the girls was asking Signora Battelli’s opinion on different types of fresh pasta.
“But how much should I give guests at a meal?” she said. “How will I know how much to buy back home?”
“Young woman,” said Signora Battelli, swelling with knowledge. “You buy a half pound of fresh pasta per person… except for my son: he eats one pound of pasta!”
I was rather hoping the son would appear so I could see if he lived up to expectations, but we were to be denied that pleasure. Signora Battelli explained that her son had taken a job in Rome.
It was the same story everywhere: young people leaving their small towns and villages to seek their fortunes in the big city. But wasn’t that always the case?
As soon as they realized that we were Americans, too, the girls were determined not to leave us alone. Well, I’m sure I could have disappeared in a puff of purple smoke and they wouldn’t have noticed – their eyes were welded to Sebastian instead. I couldn’t blame them, and I was sort of curious to see how he behaved with them.
One of them reminded me of his ex-girlfriend, Brenda. Maybe it was her propensity to toss long, shiny hair over her shoulder, and gaze at him from beneath her long lashes.
Jeez, she was flirting with him right in front of me like I didn’t even exist!
Sebastian answered their questions pleasantly. It was obvious they were angling for a ride with us, and it was almost comical how far their faces fell when he told them we were traveling by motorcycle.
“I’ve never ridden a motor-sickle,” said the one called Lydia.
And today won’t be the day either, lady.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it when you get the chance,” said Sebastian, evenly. He stood up to go, and held out his hand to me. “Come on, baby,” he said.
I placed my hand in his and he pulled it to his lips, kissing the inside of my wrist. A warm feeling traveled up from my feet, and settled somewhere in the area of my groin.
He was delicious and dangerous and my resolve to wait another 24 hours crumbled away.
The girls looked like they were in agony, and I couldn’t resist smiling at them as Sebastian and I walked away hand in hand.
“What?” said Sebastian, catching my eye.
“Sometimes you can be very sweet.”
I heard his breath catch in his throat; he looked so raw and vulnerable as he stared down at me.
“Tesoro, what did I say?”
He looked into my eyes, then let his forehead rest on mine.
“I love you, Caro,” he said.
Chapter 8
Standing outside Signora Battelli’s breakfast room, my world changed.
“I love you, Caro, so much.”
I couldn’t believe he was saying these words to me.
“I haven’t changed how I feel. I still love you – I’ve always loved you. It’s only ever been you.”
I thought my heart would stop beating.