“Well, this is a complete surprise. It’s nice to meet you, Renata.” They shook hands, but I noticed that Ren scowled when she let go. Turning to me, Melissa said, “Mike, I didn’t think you had it in you to be serious about being a husband.” Her tone was teasing, but I felt the sting.
I looked away and tried to decide what to say, but my wife seemed to have other plans. She took me by my left hand, clearly showcasing my beautiful wedding band, and said, “Well, that’s because he wasn’t supposed to be anyone else’s husband butmine.”
My smile returned as I looked at her in awe. Melissa’s mouth hung open, and she turned and walked away.
Twisting to pull Ren into me, I whispered in her ear, “That’smy Spitfire.”
She huffed. “You got that right, Data Boy. And you can put the surfboard away. It’s not happening anytime soon.” We didn’t end up getting in the water, but I was determined to see her on my board one way or another.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Renata
I’d fallen asleepevery night praying for Mike. Our conversation about his depression had shocked me, but I was grateful he’d opened up to me about it. If I thought I could love him the way he deserved, I could’ve stayed with him that night, just to hold him and prove to him he wasn’t alone but I didn’t want to muddy the water.
There were telltale signs that Mike was worried about my doubts. Even on days when we’d had a great time together, I’d let those warring emotions get the best of me, and I’d pull away physically or emotionally. He didn’t deserve this hot-and-cold treatment.
My biggest fear was allowing myself to show him my growing feelings, only to disappoint him when it wasn’t enough. Yet the safety, the connection, and the passion building between us were undeniable. In those moments, I’d let myself go, hold him, and enjoy being in his arms, only to pull away. It was becoming unbearable to ignore the hurt in his eyes.
“Father, why can’t I bring my own walls down and let him in? I’m such a hypocrite. He was willing to open up about his depression, his feelings of shame, and here I am still carrying this. But what I feel for Mike is stronger every day. Show me how to love him. Show me how to face my own fears and say the words he longs to hear.”
I had been searching the Bible for answers. God kept reminding me of His love, but that was different from loving Mike in my eyes. I knew I’d have to find a way to fix this.
I was in the backyard talking to God while Mike had lunch with Grammy. We often went together, but I told him to spend time alone with her some days. It was a quiet afternoon as I sipped on my espresso in a thick, plush chair I’d bought for our patio.
With Mike’s insistence that the house was now ours, he’d encouraged me to add what he called ‘The Renata Magic’ to it, and the backyard had been transformed into a quiet oasis. A fountain gurgled nearby, and hidden speakers had been added for our impromptu dancing sessions he’d promised me. Solar lights were spread throughout, so at night, the whole yard had a soft glow.
He’d helped me string multi-colored glass jars with solar lights on the lemon tree, which, thankfully, meant its resident squirrel had moved out. Our nights were quieter now, whenever Max, his trusty but goofy husky, made his nightly scan of the premises.
I found the perfect place for each of Mike’s creations and compiled my wish list of others he was more than happy to start on. The imperfect bowl I’d admired on my first tour of his workshop became our landing spot for his keys and wallet. I wanted it to remind him every morning and evening that he didn’t need to pursue that lofty goal of perfection. Some evenings we would spend in his workshop, music playing inthe background. I would watch him work, making notes in my notebook and sketching ideas for the new firm.
It was on those lazy evenings that my mind would wander to our wedding day. As beautiful as it was, the thing that stood out for me was that kiss. I traced my lips as I remembered how Mike’s felt on mine.
“Whew! I need some cold water,” I said out loud with a chuckle. My husband was ridiculously handsome and an amazing kisser. Like 5 out of 5 stars.Highlyrecommend. I hadn’t expected it since we said we would go slow, but when Pastor Danny said you can kiss your bride, who was I to argue with a man of God?
Since then, our kisses had been chaste and infrequent, and I was sure Mike had the same idea as I did. If we went beyond that, the ever-present spark between us would ignite. Seriously, that spark was so intense, we needed to avoid his workshop. And any gas-powered machinery.
Taking my last sip of coffee, I thought about how I had eased into a slower life, knowing that once the business opened, it would all change. That said, I wanted to adopt the Italian way of working, with more breaks and a more balanced work-life philosophy. It felt so foreign to hug Mike goodbye every morning as he left for work, knowing I didn’t have a job to go to, but I convinced myselfandmy mother that it was only temporary. There were days when I fought the guilt of him taking care of me, but I’d told Vicky that I secretly enjoyed it for a change.I’d never had someone to rely on in that way.
I walked into the house that had become my home and set my cup in the sink. Thinking about work made me recall my conversation with my ex-boss, Mr. Lamont, the day before. He had a hard time understanding the tremendous changes I’d made and warned me that my job wouldn’t be waiting for me if I changed my mind. There were so many unkind things I wantedto say to him, but as a professionalanda believer, I knew none of them would benefit either of us.
Ever since Mike and I filled out the immigration packet, I’d felt the ties to Tuscany loosening. It would always hold a special place in my life, and he and I had already discussed making a trip to Italy to visit my parents once things were further along. But San Diego was now my new home, and that thought made me unbelievably happy.
We were meetingMiles and Vicky for dinner at a seafood restaurant in the Gaslamp area the next Saturday night. Miles had a late meeting at work, making them run late, so Mike and I sat at the bar until they got there.
“You look lovely in purple,” he said, swiveling his high-top barstool towards me, touching my leg with his knee.
I looked down at where our bodies met and smiled. “You’re very sweet. That’s what you say about every color I wear. And it’s eggplant, not purple.”
He shrugged and leaned closer. “Eggplant, purple, green, blue. You, Renata Walker, have brought color into my life.”
“You’re very cute when you’re flirting, you know.” I tossed my hair off my shoulder, and his eyes tracked it. He didn’t shy away from showing how much he loved my curls. Mike had found a way to have his hands on them regularly.
“I was going for handsome, but I’ll take cute. Will you be okay for a minute? The bar top over here is sticky, and I need to wash my hands,” he said, holding them up for me to inspect.
“Of course. Go wash them so you don’t put anything sticky on my purple dress,” I teased.
He kissed my forehead and walked away. Not thirty seconds later, a well-dressed man in a blue suit, wearingwaytoo much cologne, slid into Mike’s seat, his attention locked on me.
