AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Please don’t dwell on it, because if we relive that kiss live and in person, forgetting about it will be a complete and utter no-go.
“Okay,” he said. Wait, was that relief or disappointment flooding through her veins? Clearly, she needed more coffee to keep her brain online.
“You said there’s more coffee in the kitchen, right?” Sloane hauled in a deep breath, and was pleased to discover that it actually chilled her out a little.
“Coffee. Right. Yes.” Gavin turned on his well-polished heel and moved through the entryway toward the living room. As she followed him farther into the cottage, the black and white prints on the living room wall snagged her attention again.
“These are pretty,” she said, stopping to take a closer look. Gavin halted halfway across the living room floorboards, turning to lay eyes on her before sparing a glance at the photographs.
“Thank you.”
“Did you take them?” Sloane edged close enough to the photos to run her fingertips along one polished black frame. A few years had passed since the trip abroad that had fueled her unbridled creativity. All the places where she’d written—tiny trattorias in Venice, grassy hillsides in Tuscany, and then later in cafés in Provence and Madrid—they all cascaded together now, a series of blurry fragments rather than the solid outlines and crisp details she used to know by heart.
She was losing her inspiration, bit by bit. And nothing short of being there was going to get it back.
“Yes.”
“Florence?”
“Most of them.” Gavin kept his gaze fixed on her, his expression as blank as if they were discussing the weather rather than one of the most beautiful places on the planet.
“Did you take them recently?” She was pushing, she knew. But as she stood there, grasping at the elusive memory of her own experience, Sloane suddenly ached so hard to unearth the spark again that she didn’t care.
“Two years ago.” Gavin’s clipped answer was a clear indicator he’d rather not talk about it, but rather than clam up like anyone else would, Sloane closed her eyes and let her words flow.
“There are vineyards like this along the Via Francigena.” Her mind’s eye stuttered like an old movie projector, stirring up snapshot-like images of ancient stone-cobbled pathways and trees thick with the suggestion of summer turning into fall, but the pictures faded quickly, refusing to stay put.
“You traveled the Via Francigena?” Gavin’s words were heavy with recognition and surprise.
She nodded, letting a smile touch her lips before opening her eyes. “Only from Tuscany to Rome. Do you know the route?”
“Of course. It’s one of the most well-known medieval trade routes in history. I’ve just never met anyone who’s traveled the actual path.”
“It’s time consuming, but worth every second.”
His eyes turned wary. “Wait…you didn’twalkit, did you?”
She barked out a quick laugh, watching Gavin’s expression morph from doubt to outright shock. “The ancients walked the entire path from Canterbury as a pilgrimage,” she said. “Getting from Florence to Rome on foot isn’t as hard as it sounds. Really, it’s just one step at a time. Plus, it’s not like I did it in a day or anything. I was there for six weeks.”
“Still, there’s what? A hundred and fifty miles between Florence and Rome? And you just walked it?”
Jeez. You’d have thought she’d just told him she was a celestial being from the planet Insanity rather than copping to some extended sightseeing. Then again, it wasn’t like she was unused to people thinking she was unorthodox. “Actually, I think it’s closer to a hundred and seventy-five.”
“You think?”
She shrugged. “I was a little distracted by the whole gorgeous landmark thing to officially count.”
Okay, so walking the beautiful path of the Via Francigena might seem a little crazy in hindsight, but the sheer awe she’d felt following in the literal footsteps of so many people seeking enlightenment of their own had set her creativity on fire. She’d outlined and drafted her entire first book with her feet on that path. Crazy or not, there was simply no substitute.
“So, you spent over a month of your life wandering the Italian countryside on foot, rather than hitting the major cities to vacation like pretty much everyone else?”
The fact that she’d surprised him so much felt oddly satisfying. “Oh, I spent time in Venice and Milan, too. But the whole point of the trip was to find inspiration. What better place to do that than a pilgrimage route, really? I mean, you thought it was beautiful enough to take these pictures, right?”
She paused, sweeping a gesture at the photographs lined up on the wall with all the austerity of the Queen’s Guard. “All I really wanted to do was take things in, at my own pace, so I’d never forget it.”
And yet, she had. Just like that.
God, this whole thing was stupid. All the tiny villages, every stone church and garden courtyard, all of it had been reduced to memories she could no longer bring forth with any sort of clarity. Gavin clearly didn’t want to skip down memory lane, and anyway, all the reminiscing in the world wasn’t going to bring her inspiration back. Sloane buttoned her lips, determined to drop it.
