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“I wasn’t exactly dressed for walking in these shoes, so I think I deserve a foot massage when we get back to the room.” Her smile is infectious. She knows what she’s doing, and I’m not opposed to having my hands on her again, even if it is her feet.
“Only after they are washed and perfumed. I draw the line at touching smelly feet.”
Her mock gasp makes me chuckle slightly. “Are you saying my feet smell? That is not very gentlemanly.”
“I think we established a long time ago that being a gentleman is not my strong suit.” No matter how much I want to say I can change for her, I know I can’t. This is who I am and have been for a long time.
“Oh, I don’t know, I think you certainly rock a suit,” she purrs, her gaze running down my torso.
“Not helping me here, Victoria,” I scold, waving my hand above my crotch that is hidden under the table. And her smile tells me she knows exactly what she is doing to my body.
We’re sitting at a little outside table at one of my favorite restaurants near the hotel. I might not get to cook much these days, but that doesn’t mean I will eat just anything. I’m picky, and it’s not always the big-name restaurants that are the best. Especially when you travel, finding little family-owned and run restaurants, where the food is made with love, is like finding a hidden jewel.
Pepe’s place is certainly a diamond in the rough. Pepe and Angelina have been cooking here together for thirty years, and now their kids are running the restaurant with them. No matter how busy they are, they always find a table for me when I’m here. Once it was even in the kitchen, and we talked all things food and cooking while they kept working and I ate my freshly made seafood linguini pasta. I couldn’t help it, though. They were so busy, as soon as I was finished, I grabbed an apron and started helping. It was one of the most enjoyable nights I have had since I left Australia. It reminded me of being back in the kitchen with my grandparents.
“I don’t think I can eat another bite, Nicholas. I have eaten more today than I do in a week at home.” That makes me a little uneasy, because in my eyes, we haven’t eaten more than average today. It makes me wonder if there is more to that statement.
“Do you want them to package up your leftovers and you can snack on it later?” I ask, nodding to Giulia that I’m ready for the bill.
“Oh God, no. A girl has to watch what she eats. Too much pasta and these curves just get curvier.” And there it is, she is self-conscious about her body, giving me a little insight into the Tori insecurity she hides from the world. Hence the eating comment before. I want to tell her how beautiful she is and that women should have curves and that can mean in any shape or form. But that is just putting me in a bigger hole than I am already trying to dig myself out of after this afternoon’s kiss.
Instead, I take my last sip of wine from my glass and then tap my card on the machine that Giulia brought to the table. I let her know that, as always, the food was amazing and to say hello to her parents. As I leave a sizable tip as usual, Victoria now stands and joins in complimenting the food and apologizes that she couldn’t finish it, not wanting to insult the chefs.
Giulia hugs us both, then I take Victoria’s hand which feels like the normal thing to do now. We say our goodbyes and start the short walk back to the hotel. Everyone eats later in Europe, so the streets are still busy and noisy. Italy is never a quiet place. They love to eat and socialize, which is why I love the culture here.
We don’t talk on the way back, instead just enjoying the silence between us for once. And the unusual thing is we are never silent unless one of us is mad at the other. But this afternoon has been different.
Seeing the joy on Victoria’s face as she stood in front of the Trevi Fountain with her eyes closed for a moment before throwing the coin over her shoulder to make her wish was so mesmerizing. I didn’t realize how much I have lost touch with reality and the simple things in life. When she told me of her childhood dream, I had to make it happen.
The photos on my phone that she asked me to take for her remind me of my mother in a way, believing in the power of the universe to bring her what she wished for. In the moment when she was saying her wish in her head, eyes closed, a real calmness came over her face, and I couldn’t help but capture that beauty. That is not the photos she asked for, that one was for me.
I can tell her feet must be getting sore like she mentioned, as her pace is slowing the closer we get to the hotel.
I should have called for the car, but walking hand in hand today is something I have never enjoyed so much with a woman. No plans, just wandering and taking in the view around us. We hopped on and off the tourist bus a couple of times when the distance was a little long but always sat upstairs in the sunshine and took in the view. By this stage, we have both taken off our jackets and I’m carrying them. Next time we go sightseeing, I need to plan it so we can dress a little more casually. I don’t really enjoy being around all the people, and crowds are not my thing, but the look of joy on her face made it worth the suffering.
“Would you like me to carry you?” I don’t know where that came from, but I can’t have her in pain.
“Oh, don’t be silly. Sure, my feet hurt, but not that bad.” Her voice is a little quieter than before. I can tell she is hesitating in saying something. Stopping her isn’t an option because I don’t want to delay getting her to the room where she can put her feet up.
Squeezing her hand gently, I ask, “Then why are we walking slowly?”
“Because I don’t want today to end,” she whispers, looking down at her feet rather than at me.
I don’t want to embarrass her so just give her hand another little squeeze. “I understand,” is all I reply, because the truth is, I feel the same.
We continue in our silence until we make it back to the room, both in our own heads with our thoughts.
We stop just outside the room. Before I tap the keypad, I want to say something to her, but I know I must stay strong.
Finally opening the door, it’s funny how it feels instead like it’s the closing of the day. Both of us just stand there, not knowing what to say or do. I don’t have much more restraint left.
“I think I’ll take a shower,” Tori quietly mumbles, turning and walking toward the bathroom without looking at me.
“Take a long hot bath, it will help soothe your body,” I call after her, which makes her groan, and I try not to laugh. Because I know what she is thinking, and neither a shower nor a bath is going to soothe the ache we both have.
Hearing the door close and the bath water start, I know I’m safe from the temptation for a short while. As long as I don’t think about her in there naked, surrounded by bubbles.
