Finally, Anne was in Italy with the love of her life! How lucky she was to have her own private tour guide: proud, knowledgeable, and gracious. How could she help but fall even more deeply in love with him than before? The one thing that kept it from being perfect was that she still had no idea what would happen to their relationship when they returned to the States. Would Sergio want her to move to New York or not? She tried to put it out of her mind, but it was hard.
In Milan, he had to work for a few hours each day, but that was fine because she got to explore a bit on her own. She took the Cathedral’s elevator up to the roof and snapped photos of the scary gargoyles. Human-like demons, dragons, dogs, and even one that resembled a duck—all with their mouths open as if they were screaming.
She also visited the high-end designer shops where the price of one blouse was more than she’d spend on rent in an entire year. But the next day Sergio dropped her off in a section of town that had vintage shops to die for. There she bought a red lace blouse that only cost as much as one day of rent.
In Florence, they had strolled along the Arno, visited the Palazzo Vecchio, and perused the Uffizi Gallery, including the Birth of Venus.
Now Sergio opened a final door for her. “And here you’ll see the number one Florentine attraction, one of the most amazing masterpieces ever made by man.”
Anne and Sergio walked down the wide hall to the viewing room. Even with an early reservation, it was already crowded. She glanced up at the marble face of David looming above a plethora of teenagers, with their backs to the sculpture, waving selfie sticks and taking pictures.
Sergio and Anne waited for the group to leave, then got a closer look. Astounded by the perfection of David’s body, she hankered to climb up and rub her hands along his smooth marble muscles—only because she was an artist and wanted to understand how the sculpting had been done, of course.
She motioned to Sergio. “Stand in front of him.”
Imitating David’s pose, he stepped back, turned his head, and lifted his left hand above his shoulder as if holding the slingshot’s pouch.
“How’s this?” He copied the sculpture’s serious expression.
Anne snapped a photo. “Perfetto.”
She took a few more pictures and gave Sergio a mischievous grin. “To make the resemblance better, would you pose naked?”
“Si!” Sergio laughed and started to take off his shirt.
“No, no. I was joking!” Anne turned as another noisy tour group moved toward them.
She chose a photo and typed in her phone: My own David next to the real marble giant-sized one. Pushing the button, she posted it on Facebook.
Sergio held out his hand. “Let’s not miss our train. Next up: Roma, the Eternal City.”
A driver picked Sergio and Anne up at the train station in Rome and sped toward their hotel. With the faster traffic, louder horns, and pedestrian-filled sidewalks, the energy here seemed even more rapid than New York’s. By the time the driver dropped them off, the sun had begun to dip beyond the horizon, but it was still scorching hot.
Sergio checked them in to their Relais & Châteaux hotel.
“You go on up, I have an errand to do,” he said.
She followed the bellman up to the quiet air-conditioned room, a respite from the hustle-bustle of the busy city. A bouquet of red roses, cobalt-blue delphiniums, and tall gladiolas was displayed on an entry table. The bellman set the bags down and she tipped him, hoping she’d given him enough.
At the window she studied the rooftop view of a domed church. “Not bad.” She snapped a photo and posted it. The morning’s photo of Sergio with David already had seventy-five likes.
The large bed with the carved wood headboard, gold-and-scarlet pillows, and white coverlet looked inviting. Entering the bathroom, she screamed.
Sergio rushed in carrying some shopping bags. “Are you okay?”
“This bathtub is practically as big as my whole apartment.”
“You’ll live.” He laughed. “Hurry, put on your jeans, we’ve got to get going.”
“But I stink and need a bath.” She stared at the tub.
“You’ll stink more later. You can take one tonight. The city is waiting.”
“But if it’s the Eternal City, it will wait for us forever.”
He smiled, pulling out boots, leather jackets, and gloves from his shopping bags.
“What’s all that for?”
“When you drive a Vespa, you are wearing a Vespa.” He put on a jacket and turned as if he were a model. “They see all of you. It’s part of your look. It’s about style.”
“But it must be a hundred degrees out there.” Anne frowned.
“It’s for your own protection.”
“Protection?”
“You’ll see.”
They dressed, walked the few blocks to the scooter rental, and went inside, where Sergio made the transaction.
He rolled a royal-blue Vespa out to the street and patted the back seat. “Hop on!”
“This is going to be fun!” She slid onto the leather.
“Avoid any sudden movements, and don’t try to help me by leaning to the side. Enjoy the ride.”
“Okay.”
“Put this on.” He handed her a helmet.
“It’s a retro bowling ball!” Anne tugged the silver-metal-flecked helmet on her head.
He strapped his black helmet on and pulled the guard over his handsome face.
“May the force be with you, Darth Vader,” Anne laughed.
He jumped onto the Vespa. She held onto him as he hit the gas and sped off into traffic. They bounced out of a pothole and she feared they were going to slide over, but he kept the scooter stable. Her heart raced as he drove down the white line between rows of cars. She closed her eyes as they almost bashed into a florist truck.
“Slow down!” she yelled.
He didn’t seem to hear her.
They twisted and turned up and down the hills, zipping in and out of traffic like a human video game. She hoped she wouldn’t lose the spaghetti she’d had on the train.
Sergio glanced in the rearview mirror and sped right through a red light.
Anne screamed. “Oh my God! You just broke the law.”
“Rules are meant to be broken!” he shouted back to her.
He pulled the Vespa off onto the sidewalk and continued along until he stopped in an area packed with tourists.
She carefully slid off the seat and tried to calm her wobbly legs. “I can’t believe how fast you were going. What’s the speed limit?” She removed her helmet and fluffed her hat hair.
“There isn’t one.” He shook his head and attached their helmets to the back of the Vespa. “It’s such a pleasure to drive without needing to check the speedometer.”
“You drove as if you really were a Star Wars character.” This was a side she’d never seen of him. In fact, she’d never ridden with him before. They’d always taken a Lyft, taxis, or town cars, and she’d done the driving while they were in Michigan.
“Let the Roma tour begin.”
“I need a minute. Water, please.”
He bought an Acqua Panna bottle from a kiosk and handed it to her.
She drank some water and gave the bottle back to him. “Okay. Ready.”
Sergio finished the bottle, tossed it in a can, and took her hand, and they wove through the crowd. The sound of running water could be heard.
He lifted his arm. “Here we have the Fontana di Trevi: Italy’s largest and most famous Baroque fountain, which stands eight hundred and fifty feet high and sixty-five feet across. Notice the Corinthian pilasters . . .”
“It’s stunning!” Anne pointed to the Neptune-like god. “There’s Oceanus in his chariot. And I recognize Abundance and Salubrity. Or is it the other way around?” Anne crisscrossed her arms.
“That’s right, the snake is drinking from Salubrity’s cup.”
“What does salubrity mean, anyway?” Anne snapped a photo, making sure to get the cascades as they flowed into the aqua-green pool.
“Healthful,” he responded. “Turn around.” Sergio handed her a euro. “Throw this diagonally over your shoulder from left to right without missing.”
She gave him her phone. “Okay. Here goes.” She turned and tossed the coin into the cascading water.
He clicked the camera on her phone. “Molto bene! It landed in the water, which means you’ll return to Roma someday.”
She frowned. “Hopefully not with you driving.”
He motioned toward where the Vespa was parked.
“I’m not getting back on that with you.”
“Mi dispiace. Next stop is not far. I’ll try to slow down, but I have to keep up with the flow of traffic.”
“The traffic isn’t a flow, it’s an erupting volcano.”
“Come on!” He took her elbow. She reluctantly climbed back on the Vespa, and he gently steered it around a corner, where he stopped.
“And these dolcezza are the Spanish Steps.”
It was packed with people who stood and sat on the steps.
“Good, the scaffolding is down.” She snapped a photo.
He nodded. “They say there are one hundred and thirty-five steps. Should we run up and count them to make sure?”
“Not today.” She yawned. “Let’s go back to the hotel for a nap.”
“How about a gelato first?”
“Now you’re talking.” She wondered when he would be ready to talk about her moving to New York.