“Okay, then.” He tried to stand but didn’t quite make it, so I got to my feet and took his hand to help him up. He teetered a little and ended up falling against me with an, “Oops.” When he put his arms around me and grinned, it confirmed my suspicion that the “fall” had been intentional.
“You’re so cuddly,” he murmured. “You’re like a big teddy bear.” He had terrible instincts when he was drunk. I was far more grizzly than teddy bear.
He nestled against me, which felt good, but I couldn’t get distracted. “The café is probably closing soon. Can we please keep moving?”
Armando let go of me and took an unsteady step backwards before announcing, “I hate these shoes. They’re giving me blisters.” He almost tipped over as he pulled off one of his loafers, but I caught him before he hit the ground.
To expedite the process, I picked him up and carried him down the sidewalk. He wrapped his arms and legs around me and rested his head on my shoulder as he said, “I like you, Tory. You’re hot, and you’re a good listener. Can we be friends?”
“Sure.”
The young woman behind the counter didn’t bat an eye as I carried Armando into the café. I put him down and ordered two coffees to go, and he crouched down and peered into the bakery case as he muttered, “Those cookies look so good.” He tappedthe glass lightly with the tip of the shoe in his hand, like a cat pawing at a door.
There were three Florentines left, and when I added them to our order, he straightened up and patted his pockets. After a moment, he exclaimed, “I don’t have any money! I forgot that I didn’t bring my wallet to the wedding.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
I gave the cashier a few bills and told her to keep the change, and Armando said, “I’ll pay you back when we get to the hotel.”
“That’s not necessary.”
When he looked up at me with those big, wide doe eyes of his, I was struck by how attractive he was. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re a very nice person.”
“I assure you I’m not. Far from it.”
“Well, you’re nice to me.”
“You’re the exception.”
“Why?”
That was a good question. Instead of answering, I handed him his coffee and the bag of cookies and said, “Let’s go see if we can find a cab.”
It took some time, but eventually I got lucky and managed to flag down a taxi. On our way back to the hotel, Armando finished his coffee and leaned against me. Instead of eating the cookies, he hugged the small bag to his chest, like it was a stuffed animal. That tugged at my heartstrings far more than it should have.
After a while, he murmured, “I like your accent.” I hadn’t said anything for the past few minutes, so that thought must have been bouncing around in his head for a while. “It’s very subtle, but sexy. I can’t quite place it, though. It’s like, Italian with a touch of British.”
“That’s exactly right, actually. I grew up in Italy and spent the last few years in London.”
“That sounds exciting. I’ve never been out of the country. Actually, that’s not true. I’ve been to Tijuana several times, but that’s less than twenty miles from my apartment, so it’s not exactly some big adventure. I’m Mexican American, so it’s kind of sad that that’s all I’ve seen of Mexico.” He then went off on a long tangent about how he’d always wanted to take his son to meet their relatives in Oaxaca but had failed to make that happen. I tried to tell him there was still time, but he seemed determined to beat himself up about it.
He left his shoe behind when we reached the hotel, so I picked it up and brought it with me after I paid our driver. Armando swayed a little as he pulled his phone from his pocket and read a text. “Shit,” he muttered. “Daddy Warbucks is hosting an after-party in his suite, and I’m a mess. Will you please help me put myself back together? I don’t want to embarrass my son in front of his rich in-laws.”
I thought he looked adorable, though admittedly he was a bit disheveled. “Put this on,” I said, as I handed him the shoe, “and come with me to my room. Five minutes and I’ll have you right as rain.”
He chuckled at that and grabbed my arm to steady himself as he put on his loafer. “That expression is the kind of thing my regulars at the diner would say. Most of them are in their seventies and eighties.” He had a point. I rarely spent time with anyone my own age, and it showed.
Once we reached my room, he announced that he needed to pee and wandered to the bathroom. Meanwhile, I finished my coffee and found my lint roller. When I heard the toilet flush, I joined him and waited while he washed his hands. Then he turned to me and said, “Okay. Fix me.”
After I gave him a once-over with the roller, I re-tied his lopsided bowtie and instructed him to button his jacket. He randomly swiped at his hair when I handed him a comb, soI took over and combed it back neatly. Finally, I dampened a corner of a washcloth and tilted his chin up with my fingertips, so I could wipe away a smudge on his cheek.
While I was finishing up, he leaned into me and murmured, “I really want you to kiss me.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re drunk.”
