Polishing off the last bite of bread I’d already made, I headed back to my room. We met at the door twenty minutes later, then chose to walk the few blocks to the restaurant.
We ordered our drinks from the hostess before we were even seated, but Anita knew us and didn’t mind. After catching up with her for a minute, she left to get our order and Elena turned her attention to me.
“How was today?” she asked, cutting to the chase. “Did Marco get weird again? If so, I think it’s time he and I had a little talk.”
“Not necessary,” I said without any hesitation. “There’s no need to threaten his crown jewels with your Sicilian butter knife again. He was perfectly normal today. Sweet even.”
“Sweet?” A confused frown wrinkled her brow as she pulled her head back. “What do you mean, sweet?”
“He brought me coffee this morning.” My voice softened as I recounted the events that had kicked off my workday. “It had already been fixed just the way I like it, and he said that he enjoys spending time with me.”
“Well, I’d hope he enjoys spending time with you,” she teased as she smoothed out the deep purple tablecloth in front of us. “What else did he say?”
“A few things. We’re still getting to know each other better, and our relationship is growing. It makes every conversation feel meaningful, even if no earth-shattering information is shared.”
“But he likes you?” she asked, leaning over slightly. “He does, right?”
“I think so. It’s not like we’re on the cusp of some epic love story or anything like that, but we’re having fun.”
Anita appeared with a carafe of white wine and a glass for each of us on her tray. She hurriedly placed them down, left us to pour our own drinks, and went on to the next table.
Elena and I filled up our glasses, but she spoke while doing it. “Why can’t it be an epic love story? I can see the movie posters now. It could be called Billionaire and his Beauty.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I thought I might have pulled an optic nerve. “That’s a terrible movie title. There’s also that rule that says if you can think about it, it already exists.”
“That’s for porn,” she pointed out. “This would be romance at its best. The girl who was saved from taking it all off at a strip club gets swept off her feet by a hot rich dude who brings her coffee? It’s the stuff dreams are made of.”
“Exactly. Dreams, not reality. In reality, the girl didn’t need to be saved. She just needed an opportunity to save herself, which he gave her. Also, I haven’t been swept off my feet. They’re still planted firmly on the ground. Thank you very much.”
She pointed a manicured finger at me as she took a long gulp of her drink. “I see that sparkle in your eyes when you talk about him. There has been some sweeping. Let’s say you’ve been swept off of one foot.”
“That sparkle was put there by orgasms, not love.” My declaration was met by one curious and one disapproving look from the people at the table beside ours.
It was a beautiful summer’s evening, and the outside courtyard of the bistro was packed. I wasn’t surprised they had heard me.
Elena, as always, didn’t seem to care whether people were listening in on our conversation. She took another swig of wine and wagged her brows at me. “I’m still waiting for you to tell me all about those orgasms. It’s the least you can do for those of us who aren’t having any we’re not giving ourselves.”
I lowered my voice when I realized the eavesdroppers were becoming more interested in what we said. “What’s there to tell? You know as much about orgasms as I do. Plus, it’s rude to speak about what happens in the bedroom.”
“Fine, fine.” She put up her hands but pouted. “Don’t give me the details about what happens in the bedroom. But don’t get angry with me when I hold out on you next time.”
“Please do.” As much as I loved my friend, her colorful commentary had left me with the intense urge to bleach my brain a few times.
She gave her head a shake, but at least she didn’t stick with the topic. “In that case, let’s talk about outside of the bedroom. You say it’s not the start of a great romance, but why not? He’s crazy hot, he’s super successful, he brings coffee, and apparently, he gives great orgasms you’re too shy to talk about.”
“You just had to get that in there, didn’t you?” I sipped my wine, waiting for her to continue.
Shrugging her shoulders with a sassy grin spreading on her face, she downed almost half her glass. Once she swallowed it, she smacked her lips. “I did, but I’m letting it go now. I know you’re not too shy to talk about it. Anyway, my point is that he’s the kind of man you don’t let go.”
“I’m pretty sure I have to have him before it counts as letting him go.” I caught Anita’s eye and ordered another round. She shot me a thumbs-up, motioned to the menus on the stand, and nodded her understanding. “I’ve never had money in my life, so him having money or not means nothing to me.”
“Bullshit,” Elena said firmly. “It means something to everyone to have a partner who can support them and their families. No one wants to have to worry about how they’re going to feed all the mouths conceived by their love.”
I used my glass to point at her, making sure none of the tart liquid spilled out. “You have a very different perspective on that than I do. All I want
