They rattled out Italian like peanuts, with such speed and vigor, each talking over the others, that I struggled to catch everything they said. Sebastian probably only caught one word in fifty, but he sat there grinning, only wincing when the owner’s mother, a little, round nonna of about 80, grabbed him with both hands and kissed him repeatedly.
Then they all pulled up chairs and surrounded our small table, which soon overflowed with affection. Someone fetched half-a-dozen espresso cups and I sipped happily at the thick, bitter liquid. I was amused to see that Sebastian added several spoonfuls of sugar before he found the rich brew palatable.
Eventually some more patrons arrived and the family scattered, returning to their various roles of cook, cleaner, chef and bottle-washer.
“Whoa! That was something else,” said Sebastian, as we were left to our own devices.
“Wonderful, wasn’t it?”
“They kind of reminded me of your dad.”
I sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair.
“Yes, crazy: just like papa.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
Then he laid his hand on mine and I felt his gentle touch. My eyes flew open in surprise and I jerked my hand away.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his cheeks heating.
“No, that was rude of me. I was just…”
Tension returned and to my horror, I found my hands were shaking. I fumbled in my wallet for some money and placed the bills on the table under an abandoned coffee cup.
“I’ve got money,” he said, awkwardly.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” I muttered. “I have to get back now.”
Sebastian stood in silence, then followed me back onto the main street.
“Aspetti, signore!”
The coffee shop owner had followed us and was waving the notes I’d left on the table.
I stared, bewildered as he forced the bills into Sebastian’s hand.
“No, please. You and your beautiful wife must come again. You are like family. Please!”
Refusing to keep the money, he kissed us both and trotted away smiling.
Sebastian’s bemusement turned into a broad grin as he passed the money to me. “For you, signora. Beautiful wife, huh? Well, he was half right.”
It was my turn to flush, but I tried to laugh it off. “Free coffee always tastes the best.”
“Yeah! We should definitely do this again.”
I couldn’t return his puppyish enthusiasm; I simply smiled weakly.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I only got about one word in every sentence. I thought my Italian was better than that. Hell, I’ve been studying it for four years. Maybe you could teach me; I mean, just some Italian conversation practice. That would be awesome!”
My automatic response was a big NO, but I didn’t get the chance.
“Hey, Seb. What’s up?”
Sebastian’s face froze.
“What do you want, Jack?”
“Who’s your cute friend?”
A look of anger and deep dislike crossed Sebastian’s face.
“Ah, come on, dude! I’m just saying.”
I was pretty certain Jack was one of the surf rats that I’d seen Sebastian with the day before. He was slightly older than Sebastian and his friends, with dark hair and dark, feral eyes; I disliked him from the first sentence he spoke.
“Caroline Wilson,” I said, hoping to defuse the sudden tension.
“Howdy, Mrs. Wilson,” he said slyly, his eyes swiveling from my wedding rings to my cleavage.
We both looked at Sebastian, who seemed very ill at ease.
“Well, it was nice bumping into you again, Sebastian. Do you want a ride back to the Base or perhaps you’d prefer to stay with your friend.”
I waited less than a second before I fixed an insincere smile to my face.
“See you around then. Ciao.”
And I walked away.
I was furious with myself. Why had I pretended we’d just bumped into each other? It had all been perfectly innocent, so why lie?
And then I remembered the touch of his hand on mine and my ridiculous over-reaction.
Oh, this was not good, not good at all.