“I’m glad you liked it. And listen, thanks again for today. What you did for me was beyond what I could have asked. I realize this job was way beneath you. I might have looked you up,” Aria said, watching Alex's eyebrow arch.
“Oh, youdid, did you?” he answered, amusement dancing across his face. “Well, remember. Don't believe everything you see online.”
Aria thought of the perfect models she’d seen him pictured with and hoped that's what he meant, but she didn’t dare bring it up.
When Aria stood and started gathering dishes, Alex did the same. He brought the serving bowls to the counter while she filled the sink with soapy water.
“Hey, you cooked, let me clean,” he said, his expression stern when she tried to shoo him away.
She relented and started putting the leftovers in glass containers, watching him through her lowered eyelashes. She thought she was being discreet but kept finding Alex sneaking glances at her over his shoulder.
When she handed him the serving bowls to clean, his hand grazed hers, making her think about the way they felt when he held her close in the cafe.
Was he thinking about the kiss? That was a real possibility when he forgot the faucet was still running and almost overflowed the sink.
“Sorry,” he said nervously, removing the plug and scooping the spilled water into the draining sink.
It was impossible to ignore the spark that freely flowed between them. A few minutes later, when the last item was cleaned, he wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and leaned against the counter.
She could see that he wanted to say something but couldn’t, echoing her feelings. Trying to break the tension in the room, she offered to make him an espresso.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Aria nervously bustled about the kitchen, keenly aware of his tracking her every move.
“How do you like living in Positano?” he asked, the timbre of his deep voice making her melt again.
“I, I love it. I miss my parents back in Rome, but this is home now. My brother Santo lives in Madrid now, so we’re all spread out.”
“I get that. I’m grateful that Sofia lives near my dad. Makes it a little easier when I’m working.”
Handing him the cup and saucer, she said, “Why don’t you take your espresso into the living room? I’ll be right there with some Amaretto cookies.”
Alex was standing at the built-in shelves when Aria walked in with a bright blue ceramic bowl filled with cookies. She watched as he perused her collection of brightly colored bottles of every shape and size.
There was no mistaking how his expression changed when he saw her wedding pictures. His countenance became serious as he leaned in to get a closer look.
Hearing her clear her throat gently, he swung around to look at her.
“Let’s sit down,” she said, trying to reign in how emotional she felt having Alex in her house, looking at her pictures of Nicholas.
She wasn’t sure why, but it was a bit disconcerting. The photos were everywhere in the room: wedding pictures, candid shots of their honeymoon. Years of captured memories surrounded them.
Alex obeyed, taking the cookies from her now-trembling hands and placing the bowl on the coffee table where he had left his cup.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Do, do you want me to leave?” he asked, his voice deep and low.
“No,” she said softly, shaking her head.
“Okay. If that changes, know that you can tell me.”
Sniffling a few times, she said, “It’s the strangest thing. There are days that I love being in here, seeing these memories, feeling like he’s still here with me. And other days, I feel like tearing down every photo.”
Sitting next to him on the overstuffed sofa, she tucked her feet underneath her and sat back.
Nodding with understanding, he answered, “It was the same for me with my mom. No one prepares you for the whiplash of emotions you feel on any given day.”
“Exactly. It’s like being blindfolded on a never-ending roller coaster.”
