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An hour later, we’ve got a picnic packed and we’ve given Penny the day off. “She can watch them tonight when we head to dinner,” Ricco says. Given that I’m about to meet some of his family, the thought of not worrying about my preschooler’s spilled milk or tantrum over her meat that’s not cut to the right size sounds like an excellent idea.
The beach is a fair trade.
The sun beats down, it’s a warm day in Tuscany. I spread a blanket on the sand and lay out our towels, while Ricco slathers sunscreen over the kids before he races them to the water. I sit on the sand, my sunglasses perched on the edge of my nose. It’s gorgeous here, so picturesque it looks like it belongs on a postcard. I can’t believe I’m staring at a Mediterranean shoreline, watching the hottest guy I’ve ever met splashing in the waves with my daughter and his son.
I love the sound of waves crashing on the shore, and Emmy’s giggles. The scent of saltwater mingles with the scent of the ripe peaches I packed, and a gentle breeze fills the air. I breathe in and exhale, trying not to think about our plans for tonight.
What will the family think of me? What will I think of them?
My phone buzzes with a text.
Jason:
Hey, babe. Enjoying yourself?
So so so much. It’s gorgeous here. Stunning. We’re at the beach.
Excusez-moi. Let me get back to my cubicle while you order an aperitif. I want pics, beautiful!!
I send Jason a quick picture of me on the beach, sticking my tongue out at the camera.
The beach stretches along the turquoise waters; fine golden sand runs between my toes. Umbrella-topped loungers and colorful beach towels line the shore. In front of me, Ricco leans on his forearm, building a sandcastle with the kids. Emmy’s captivated, drizzling water over one of the sides to make patterns in the sand, and little Marco rears back and kicks it over. Emmy wails. I cover my hand with my mouth to stifle a laugh as Ricco shakes a finger at Marco and comforts Emmy.
“Lunchtime?” I offer, hoping the distraction helps.
Couples walk by hand in hand, and little children splash in the shallow water. It’s so calm and peaceful, but I can’t help but wonder how today’s excursion will contrast with tonight’s dinner.
“We’ll build you your own castle to destroy, but leave Emmy’s alone,” Ricco says sternly.
Marco nods. “You promise?”
Ricco nods. “As soon as we’ve finished lunch, I’ll build you as many castles as you want to kick over.”
Marco grins and takes a huge bite of his sandwich.
“I was a dino,” he says to me in explanation. “Sorry, Emmy.”
Emmy frowns into her sandwich and takes a tentative bite but perks up after she eats.
It feels so homey and domestic, and I can’t help but imagine ourselves like this… Emmy and Marco, me and Ricco, a small but ready-made family.
When the sun begins to set and the kids are yawning, we pack up our sandy selves and head back to the house. We get the kids situated and get ready for the night. I’m a little sunburnt but happy. This day at the beach was as beautiful as I could’ve imagined.
“You feeling okay about dinner tonight?” Ricco asks curiously, standing behind me, buttoning his shirt.
“Oh, yeah, I feel great,” I lie. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s only a whole bunch of people I’ve never met who know each other, in a country whose language I barely know, and I’m joining a man who may or may not be—”
I don’t finish because I suddenly realize I’m not ready to say this out loud.
“May or may not be what, baby?” Ricco asks softly.
I was going to say the man I’m falling in love with.
I shake my head. I can’t say it out loud, not yet.
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “Ready to fight someone over me at a moment’s notice?” I say, my eyes twinkling.
Ricco stands behind me, looking sexy as fuck in his suit and tie, clean-shaven yet still rugged and masculine. He rests his hands on my hips and meets my gaze in the mirror. “There’s no may or may not about that,” he says with conviction. “I’ll fight anyone for you.”
I swallow and bite my lip, holding his gaze in the mirror.
“But we’re civilized,” I protest, even as a part of me loves this fierce side of him.
“You’re civilized,” he corrects. “This is only a facade for me.”
He gives me a wink. I can’t help but wonder. How much of this is true? How much is he making up?
How much does he really mean?
The kids squeal in the other room as Penny puts a movie on. They’re already in their jammies with large bowls of popcorn, but I doubt after our day at the beach they’ll last much longer. Again, it feels so right and domestic, so natural and homey but there’s an edge to everything I can’t quite settle. It’s as if Ricco’s only shown me one side of himself and hinted at the other, but I have a dark feeling there’s so much more than what I’ve seen so far.
