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He no longer knew what made sense.
“There is a playground near here. Let’s go and see it.”
He chose not to turn around to face her. Something strange was happening to him, it was as though his being was being unstitched, piece by piece.
“Do you mean now?”
“Si. Andiamo.”
It was a warm day. Hot and cloying but with the hint of a breeze shifting through Rome’s ancient, cobbled streets. The Via Condotti – famous for its exclusive boutiques and restaurants – was only a few minutes walk from Fiero’s home – in one direction – but in the other, there was this: winding, beautiful streets lined with buildings. Each was painted an earthy colour and the walls were an uneven texture, bumpy and gnarled, so she wanted to run her hands over them and feel their stories.
Little pops of colour relieved those earthy tones: red geraniums tumbling from the window boxes, potted plants stuffed with lavenders and herbs and the smell of basil was sweet in the summer’s air. A gelataria was set up in a small caravan at the end of the strada on which they walked and as they passed it, Jack clapped his little hands together. “Ice cream! Ice cream!”
Fiero crouched down, his jeans straining over his muscular thighs so Elodie had to look away because the sight was doing something funny to her tummy. Not something funny – something familiar. She was so aware of how those legs felt, pinning her to the mattress, the wall, straddling her – strong and masculine. She looked away.
“Would you like a gelati?” He spoke in Italian but she understood because the last word gave the question context.
Jack however stared in wonder at these strange words, his little expression almost seeming overwhelmed.
Fiero repeated his question, more slowly, and this time, with gestures. First he pointed at Jack, and then at the shop, and then towards the colourful ice creams. Each one was artfully arranged, scooped high in its tray with a haphazard pattern, and their tops were adorned with more of their flavours. The nocciolo had hazelnuts sprinkled across it, the banana was the same, citrus slices adorned the limone.
“That one!” Jack pointed to the chocolate, with its glossy dark brown colour and cubes of chocolate arranged on top.
Fiero grinned so Elodie’s heart thumped into her chest so hard it hurt, then he stood, pinning her with the same smile. “And you?” He prompted, something unspoken in the depths of his eyes.
She swallowed, shaking her head on autopilot before reconsidering. It was so hot, and the gelati all looked so good. She rarely indulged in sweets, but suddenly, she wanted something. She hovered above the display, scanning to see what they had on offer, before selecting a scoop of strawberry. They watched as the young man behind the counter spooned the ice cream into small, paper cups, then handed them over. Fiero was reaching for his wallet but Elodie shook her head.
“I’ll get it.” She pulled some euro from her pocket and slid them across the top of the counter before Fiero could say anything. She was conscious of the way he was watching her though, his eyes heavy on her face. They turned and walked, Jack concentrating on getting the chocolate into his mouth.
“You have euro.”
Elodie jerked her gaze to Fiero’s in surprise. “Yeah. Why?”
“I didn’t think about this, that you would need local currency.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Yeah. I went and got cash out.”
He nodded, but there was a look on his face, a look that was part disconcerted. “When?”
“Um, Tuesday, I think?”
Another nod, but his frown was deepening. “I should have organised this. I’m sorry.”
It was so absurd, she almost laughed. “You threatened to send me home without my son but you’re apologising for overlooking the fact I’d need euro?”
She had the satisfaction of seeing his features tighten, his eyes flash with something she couldn’t comprehend.
“Believe it or not,” she didn’t push her point. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know that.” Again, a look of consternation crossed his face.
“You’re surprised?” They began to walk once more, Jack between them with a broad smile on his face as he lifted scoop after generous scoop of ice cream into his mouth. He was doing well, but Elodie scanned the street, her eyes landing on a bench seat across the road. “Let’s sit while he eats,” she murmured.
Fiero nodded, his expression still taut.
Once Jack was settled on the bench, in the middle of both of his parents, Fiero spoke. “I’m surprised I overlooked it, not that you sourced your own cash.”
“Why would you think it’s your place to arrange money for me?” She tasted her own gelati – it was delicious. The sun was warm around them, the air thick with summer, and ice cream was the perfect antidote to that.
