“Do you have any idea how important this could be for both of us?”
I sigh, “Yes, I know you want to find yourself again after the loss you’ve been through. And if I weren’t so confused by it, I’d be honored you chose my retreat to help you get there.”
Something passes over his eyes, but he hasn’t faltered in his gaze. Not once. We’re staring at each other for a good three seconds when he says, “That’s not what I meant, Tempest.”
Wracking my brain to understand what that means, I’m interrupted by our server. “Scusi, signorina, more wine?”
Josh answers for me, “No, Grazie,” and stands up, “Grazie.”
The young man bows his head, “Prego, prego,” and rushes off again.
I rise from my chair, napkin thoughtlessly tossed. At Josh’s expression, I ask, “What?”
He stands several inches taller than me. “I’ll see you at nine-thirty, Tempest.”
“Okay, Josh.”
Starting to leave, he turns his head and stops. “Take a walk with me. Everything is planned. Your schedule was well thought out. Meticulous, even.”
I laugh, “I don’t know about meticulous!”
“Nobody needs you right now.” He holds out his hand. “Except me.”
My frown drops to his offered hand. I clasp mine together, passing him. “I’ll see you at nine-thirty, Josh.” As a warning I toss behind me, “Don’t be late.”
Chapter 18
“Slept like a rock,” I smile to Tempest after practice the next morning, our first full day in Italy begun.
Rolling up her mat — mine still on the grass behind me — she’s suddenly stiff. “That’s great, Josh.”
“We’re going into town for lunch today?”
She swings her long single, thick braid behind her, and straightens her neck. “That’s what’s on the schedule.”
Ignoring the unspoken challenge to recite it again — don’t have to prove I’ve done that twice — I ask, “How are we getting there?” At her questioning look, I casually explain, “I looked on the map and knew you’d consider it wasn’t walking distance to some.”
Her knowing smile comes slow, and she drops to pick up her folded blanket. “People not from New York.”
I nod, “Not used to walking as much as we are,” glancing over as Joan walks into the villa, winking at me.
Tempest holds her mat and blanket in front of painted-on aqua yoga pants and matching long-sleeved midriff, “We’re taking a car,” colorful stone-laced bracelets stacked on both wrists. One ring on her right index finger that I notice doesn’t match her bohemian yoga vibe.
We’re the last two out here, which I’d planned. Tempest left last yesterday evening, and at her studio. I gathered that she doesn’t intend to have her students feeling abandoned, or alone. It makes her alone, but hey, the captain goes down with ship.
Now I’m here.
She’s not alone anymore.
“A few cars, yeah?”
“Yes, Josh,” she sighs, obviously wondering why I’m bugging her about this. “We’ll need more than one. But I thought of that, too!”
I chuckle, enjoying her continuous irritation more and more. “I figured you had.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because I wanted to see if you had to go in those cars?”
Her hip juts in annoyance. “Of course I do!”
“Is it a must?”
Cocking her head, she demands, “Do you want me to fly?! Shall I sprout wings and meet you all there?”
Stepping back on one bare heel, sunlight catching my eyes, I laugh and tell her, “I’d like to see that.”
“So would I,” she mutters, bringing her hips back into alignment, brown eyes beautiful as she smiles. “That would be pretty cool. Me with wings, flying over the coast of Italy.”
“I’ve got something like that we could do.”
Tempest stares at me. “What the Tuck are you talking about?”
“I was thinking it’d be fun to rent a scooter. Wanted to see if you’d like to ride on the back.”
Her lips part. “Could we?”
“Yes!”
“I’ve never been on one before!”
“Lucky for you, I have. You’ll be safe. I even have a motorcycle license.”
She leans forward in shock. “You do?!” Few Manhattanites need wheels. Some don’t even have a regular drivers license, so her surprise is logical being from New York.
“From back home. Rode a Harley during high school.”
Impressed she nods, but a frown jumps into her whole being as she leans back, disappointed. “So it’s expired.”
“Still have it!”
“With you?”
“Not with me.”
“Josh!”
“You don’t need a license to ride a scooter. I was just making you feel safe.”
Tempest thinks about it, eyes shining as they dart toward the villa, probably considering if it’s okay to take a scooter when her students have to take cars. She whispers, conspiratorially, “Let’s do it!”
I expected a hard no, and my whole body feels the yes even though I keep my cool, shrugging, “I’ll pick you up at the time we’re meant to leave.”
Bouncing once like a little girl, she exclaims, “I’m so excited,” starts to head off, but pauses, glancing to my mat. “Sorry, I’ll wait for you to gather your things.”
“Nah, I’m good. You go on ahead.”
“I like to be the last one to leave,” she frowns, confirming my suspicions even more with the confession, “I don’t want you feeling alone.”
Meaning more than she realizes, I smile, “I don’t want that either,” and roll up a spongy red yoga mat I bought on a whim, that seems to have proven to bring more than Zen back into my life. “If you’re worried about the others riding in cars, they paid for that. And sure, we might inspire them to rent a scooter, but that would be on a voluntary basis.” Hoisting my unfolded blanket and rolled mat, I meet her eyes. “Scooters aren’t for everyone, but cars are. What you booked worked for the group as a whole. Bonus Activities, as you stated in your schedule, are the rights of every student on their own to do added things they feel will make their trip here more fun.”
Tempest eyes me. “You
