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legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders. “I won’t hurt you?”
“Are you serious?”
I giggle. “No?” I hold onto him, and he wraps an arm behind himself, holding me against him as he picks his way down the hill.
FOUR
Gwenna
For dinner, we hit up Lola Lombardi’s, a family-owned Italian place with a gorgeous, blue-tiled wishing well, ivy crawling up the tall brick walls, and an extensive wine menu.
We park a block or so away in downtown Gatlinburg, and Barrett buys me a rose from a street vendor as we walk toward our destination. We end up each holding part of the rose’s stem, holding hands with the rose between us, which makes me giggle.
The place isn’t too crowded, so we get a giant corner booth—too wide, Barrett claims, for us to sit across from each other, so he slides in beside me. He tells me it’s been years since he had Italian food, which launches us into a conversation about all the countries he’s visited. I brace myself at first, but he enjoys regaling me with stories.
The more we talk, the more we drink, until Barrett kisses my neck and, as he does, he grabs our bottle and moves it across the table.
I shove his chest. “You thief.”
“Non più per te, donna.”
I poke my lip out. “Why’d you take the wine?”
His lips brush the bridge of my nose, trailing up my forehead, and his hand smooths over the hair at the back of my head.
“Why do you think, Piglet?”
“Because you’re a mean ole Bear?”
He shakes his head, smiling sweetly. He takes my hand and brings it up to his head, to the spot where—
“Ohhh. The TBIs. Righhhht.”
He chuckles.
“Did you ever have a seizure?” I ask, wrapping an arm around him.
“Two. One before surgery, one right after.”
I lean against his shoulder. We lace our hands together.
I look at his face, trying to determine if he’ll mind questions.
He smirks. “Thinking?”
“Yessss.”
Our waiter brings a basket of ciabatta and lights the little candle on our table, and when he goes, Barrett looks down at me. “And?”
“And what?” I bring a piece of bread up to my mouth.
“What were you thinking?”
“Oh, just if you had to take anti-seizure medicine, what your recovery was like, that kind of thing.”
“Did you have any seizures?” he asks, poker-faced.
“Some. Right after. I was in a coma for a few weeks, so it was after that.”
