When the assistant – whose name, I learn, is Fran – leaves again, Marco joins me on the sofa and we cuddle close together to watch something stupid on TV. I’m barely even paying attention, just enjoying the feeling of being close together like this.
But even as we stay together, my head pillowed on his lap, a growing doubt begins to rise up inside of me, making me confront something I didn’t want to think about before. Even though everything that has happened over the last couple of days has been real, and wonderful, it’s left me with a big question that I still don’t know the answer to.
All of this time, we haven’t really spoken about the fact that my time here is limited. That I have only another two days left, and then it will all end – I have to fly home. I’m only here on vacation, but this is Marco’s home – so he won’t be joining me, and I can’t stay here, not with college on the horizon.
All of which makes me wonder exactly where this is going at the end of the week – and whether I’m allowing myself to fall for someone who won’t even be around after this.
Even though the glow I feel inside can’t be dampened by my doubts, they still linger. I focus on watching the television, trying not to think about anything else – and when it gets to be too much, I lift my head and find Marco’s face, and draw him into a kiss, so that he can make me glow again and take my mind off the growing fear.
I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to hear him tell me that at the end of the week it will be over, or to hear him tell me we’ll make it work and see in his eyes that he’s lying to me. For now, just being together is enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Marco
At last, in the middle of the afternoon, I have to at least get-up and do something. I’m used to working all day, making deals, having business lunches and dinners – sitting around doing nothing, even if I’m doing it with the best person in the world, is not quite comfortable yet.
The good news is that I know exactly what I have to do.
“Hey, stay there and relax,” I tell Hannah, planting a kiss on the top of her head as I ease away from the sofa. “I should make some calls about work. I’ll be back in a moment.”
I do have work calls to make – although maybe not in the way that she thinks. And above that, I need to make some plans. Since I don’t want to give them away just yet, I’ll have Fran make all of the arrangements for me – but that means a necessary piece of subterfuge, at least for now.
I step outside into the garden and make my first call. “Ciao, Fran?”
“Good afternoon, sir,” she says, crisply. “Are you ready to reschedule some of those missed appointments?”
“Not quite yet,” I tell her, suppressing a smile at her manner. “Actually, I’d like you to arrange some things for me…”
When the plans are made, there is nothing left to do except try to make the most of Hannah’s last two days in Italy. A day spent around the house is fine, but it can’t be her last memory from her first solo vacation. Just like everything else this too is something I want to make special for her.
I make sure to choose our activities carefully. On Saturday morning, we start out by going shopping again, because Hannah needs to have more of the finest things. I won’t send her home with anything less than a bulging suitcase. I’m happy to do it because I see the smile on her face when she wears something expensive, something really built to flatter a woman’s body and make her feel special, and I want to see that smile every day.
After shopping, the afternoon is dedicated to the last bit of sightseeing, exploring the parts of Rome that Hannah has not yet seen. Each stop has to be quick because there is of course no time to linger when only a day and a half of her trip remains; but I make sure that she sees the important things, that she has a good time, that she doesn’t feel too rushed.
And then there is food, which I know is part of the string that ties us together. As an Italian man, I of course love our cuisine, and Hannah enjoys it too, which means I have no qualms about taking her to the very finest Italian restaurants here in our great city. Not all of them are the most expensive; sometimes it’s more about that traditional touch, the family restaurant using those recipes handed down over generations.
But, yes, I admit, sometimes I like to choose the flashiest and most expensive places because I like to show off. I love when Hannah sees that I’m recognized in these places, that they even give me special treatment because they know I’m one of their VIP customers. To take her to a private, roped-off table, and to have the maître d’ showing us lavish attention – to see the stars in her eyes, that is truly special.
Of course, I try also to create special memories in bed. I made sure to pay off the hotel in order to allow her to leave early, and moved all of her things to my home so that we could be together as much as possible.
But all too soon Saturday is over, and on Sunday morning we go out to explore one more time, and all too soon again it’s Sunday afternoon, with only a few hours until Hannah must fly back home. And it’s time for her to pack her bags, including a new suitcase for all the
