Chapter Twenty-Three

June 2

IS THERE ANYTHING better than waking up without an alarm while gorgeous Tuscan sunshine streams in through the window? I honestly don’t think so. And what is that smell wafting around the room? Italy is magical.

I roll over to find that Carter has already gotten up, so I turn the other way and gently put my feet on the cool stone floor. Outside the blanket, I actually feel a bit chilly, something I rarely get to experience in June as an Arizonan. I fumble through my bag to find a sweater and throw it on over my pajamas and go searching for my man and, to be honest, breakfast.

Coming down the stairs, I realize the delicious smell is getting stronger and start to wonder if Carter has taken our time apart to learn some new skills, but the kitchen appears empty and untouched. Perplexed, I make my way out to the patio where I find him sitting with a few pastries and a cup of coffee, staring out at the rolling hills.

“Well, hello, Cyn-shine,” he says, using his favorite nickname for me.

“Buongiorno,” I say back. “Where did this lovely spread come from?”

“That would be the bakery next door,” he says with a smile. “Can you smell it? I think we’ve hit the jackpot for location.”

He is giddy and I can’t help but match his mood. I’ve been so focused on how happy I am and what this trip means to me that I’ve forgotten what it must be like for him. He’s worked so hard for so long, and after everything I’ve put him through this year, this must be incredibly overwhelming.

“Hey,” I say, sitting in the chair next to him. “Have I told you yet how much I love this trip, and you for planning it? You’re my hero.”

We lock eyes for a few seconds while I try to convey how genuinely thankful I am, but then my stomach gives the loudest grumble I’ve ever heard and we both start to laugh. Carter gestures toward the plate of pastries and my stomach continues its roar.

“You should pick first,” I say, then immediately hope he doesn’t grab the one I’m eyeing.

“I’ve already had two,” he says. “I may be a hero, but I’m no saint. And I wasn’t sure how long you’d be sleeping. I couldn’t resist the smells from next door.”

“Aw, man.” I grab the pastry covered in powdered sugar before he can go for number three. “How long have you been up? Did I sleep the day away?”

“I’ve only been up about fifteen minutes,” he admits, dodging my fist as I reach over to lightly punch his arm. “But I really didn’t know how long you’d sleep.”

We break into laughter again and I am delighted that the pastry tastes as good as it looks. It’s perfect for my first official Italian food. Light and fluffy, but so flavorful. I’ve been looking forward to the places and things we’re going to see so much that I almost forgot about all the wonderful food we’re going to eat.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I ask, helping myself to another pastry.

“No agenda,” he says. “I wasn’t sure how we’d be feeling after traveling and getting settled, so I thought we could explore the town and make a game plan for the rest of the week, but we can do anything you like.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” I say with a mouthful of another delicious treat. “I may go into a food coma after this breakfast, so a lazy day sounds delightful.”

We sit and enjoy the scenery as we both happily savor the last of the baked goods. It is sunny and breezy, my two favorite elements for exploring, and my legs are itching to get moving.

“Do we have bikes?” I ask, struck with inspiration.

“There are some in the garage we can use,” Carter says. “Looking to cover more ground than we can on foot?”

“I just feel like riding bikes through the Italian countryside is so very perfect and that’s what we should do. Right now.”

“Right now?” He grins.

“Well, maybe we should change first, but pretty much now, yeah.”

We clear the plate and head inside to get ready. I run upstairs to brush my teeth, throw my hair up in a ponytail, add some sunscreen moisturizer to my face, put on shorts and a tank top, and head back down to find Carter getting the bikes pulled out and ready to go.

“Do we need the map?” I ask, thinking back on my Girl Scout days. “And maybe a compass?”

“I think we’ll be okay if we don’t go too far,” says Carter, who honestly has terrible survival instincts. I grab my phone and take a picture of the map from the binder and double check that my compass app works without Wi-Fi. It does, and I feel a bit better, seeing as how we’re about to set out in an area where we don’t speak the language and have never been before.

I close the door behind me and bounce my way down the steps, excited to see more of our beautiful surroundings. Carter has thrown a couple of water bottles in the basket of his bike and has a huge smile on his face, likely mirroring mine.

I throw my leg over my bike and teeter a little before finding my balance. The bike is old but sturdy and I soon feel like a kid again as I pick up speed and the breeze blows harder in my face. Carter is behind me, but just a bit, so I slow down until we’re side by side.

“Which way?” I ask as we pull up to a fork in the road. I look up at the street sign and try to remember the name of it, but we’re right on the edge of the town and I feel like I’ll remember how this looks.

“Well, left takes us more into town, but I think right takes us toward the next village.”

“Hmmm. Town?” I suggest.

“Town it is,” he says, leading the way. I take out my phone for a minute and find that we are heading northeast, meaning our villa must be on the southwest corner of town. I make a mental note and pedal after Carter.

We wind our way through the streets and soon find ourselves in the town square, where the local church is truly something to behold. If the church in this tiny town is this pretty, I can’t wait to see the others in the bigger cities we’ll visit. The bricks are alternating colors, giving it a mesmerizing checkerboard feel. I’m lost in thought and just sitting on my bike seat until a voice pulls me back to reality.

“I’m sorry?” I say, realizing there’s a gentleman standing on my right.

“Ahh, American,” he says. “I say you like our church, yes?”

“Oh yes. It’s lovely. The whole town is.”

He appears a little confused but smiles and nods before going on his way. I look across the square to see Carter investigating the church more closely and smile. He turns to see me as I gesture to keep going and we make our way down another street. It’s mostly houses, but there’s a little market, another bakery, a pharmacy, and two restaurants I’m sure we’ll check out later. It’s still early, so they aren’t open, but we stop in the market for a loaf of bread and some meat and cheese to add to our basket.

“Oh shoot,” I say, as we hop back on the bikes. “I should have brought a blanket or something to lay down so we can have a little picnic.”

“Eh, we’ll make do,” he says.

On we go until we reach the edge of town, so we decide to head toward the fields stretching to the south. I’m thankful I have the compass as I check again to make sure I have my bearings. The road is rockier and dustier than it was in town, so we slow our pace a bit, but as we wind in and out of shady areas and brilliant sunshine, I don’t mind at all. I’m not sure how long we’ve been riding when Carter comes to a stop a few feet ahead of me.

“Everything okay?” I ask, stopping next to him.

“Better than okay,” he says. “Look.”

I follow along his hand to where he’s pointing and spot a little stream winding its way through the trees. It could not be more picturesque, so I understand why he wanted me to see it. Then I squint and realize why he looks so excited. A small bench sits just above the stream and it’s like God heard we didn’t have a blanket, so he made us our own little picnic spot.

“Ahh,” I sigh. “Better than okay for sure.”

We walk the bikes down the grassy area and rest them on a tree near the bench before unloading our food. Our meats and cheese are wrapped in paper, which we carefully unfold to have somewhere to put the bread before digging in. I have no idea what everything is, but it’s all so delicious that I don’t care. I don’t even feel like talking as I savor each bite and watch the stream dance its way over rocks and dips in the land. A few bugs come around to investigate, but none are too bothersome, so I don’t even go into my usual swatting frenzy.

“Is everything here like a storybook?” Carter wonders aloud.

“All evidence points to yes so far,” I say, finishing the last of the cheese on my side of the bench. “It’s so quaint and lovely. Are you sure we only get to stay a month?”

“I was thinking the same thing. I mean, how much do I really want to be a doctor in America anyway? I should see if I can transfer to some Italian school.”

“Yes, that makes sense.” I nod. “And I’m pretty sure my ice cream skills will transfer to gelato-making. Oh my God. We have to get gelato.”

Carter laughs at my abrupt mood shift, but I don’t care. I suddenly cannot wait to try every flavor of gelato I can and now have no bigger goal on our trip. I should really make a note of everything we try.

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” he says.

“Who, me? No, no,” I say. “I was just thinking I should get a notebook to jot down all of the flavors we try, but I’m back. Really.”

“It’s okay. I love when you go all ice cream nerd on me.”

The food is gone, so I crumple up the paper in my hand and close the gap between us.

“Good thing, cuz I’m going to seriously geek out,” I say, kissing him. “It might be like Vermont all over again.”

“If I recall, good things happened in Vermont,” he says, kissing me back. “I’d be okay with a repeat.”

Long story short, I got really excited on our tour of the Ben and Jerry’s facility and Carter was the beneficiary of all that extra energy. He still refers to it as our foursome because of how influential two other men were to our sex that night.

All this thought of gelato and a steamy night in New England long ago has me seriously turned on, and since we’re a bit off the path and relatively secluded, I wrap my legs around Carter and kiss him even harder. I begin to wonder if this bench has ever seen this kind of action before, but I get the feeling it has inspired at least some heavy make-out sessions by the local teenagers.

Carter’s hands dig into my hips as we come even closer together and I feel him look back toward the road to see if anyone is around before he pulls down my tank top to kiss my breasts. I moan, encouraging him as he pulls my top down even lower to bring my left breast into his mouth. I’m sweaty and a bit sticky, but everything feels too good for me to stop. I shift around on his lap to grind into him a little more.

That’s all the encouragement he needs to stand up and bring us both to the other side of the bench, so we’re now behind a tree and out of sight from the road. We kiss furiously as we reach down to unbutton our shorts and soon we are both half-dressed and fucking up against a tree. Kindly, the tree has very soft bark, so I’m not even scratching up my back as Carter thrusts harder and harder. Okay, maybe I’m scratching my back a little.

“Hang on,” I say, pulling myself off him and turning around. I bend over so that my hands are on the bench, but we’re still pretty hidden from view. My top is still pulled down, so I’m still a bit exposed, but it’s hot as hell and I let out a small gasp as Carter enters me again. His sweat drips on my back as he leans forward to fondle my tits with one hand while reaching down to my clit with the other.

“Come with me,” he says and I happily oblige, exploding with a super intense orgasm as he finishes into the bush behind the bench.

“Figured our ride home would be pretty uncomfortable if you were all sticky,” he says after shuddering his last after-sex shudder.

“Such a gentleman,” I say, using the outside of the food paper to clean myself up a bit before getting dressed again. “For someone who didn’t just bring me to Italy for sex, I’d say you’re getting a lot of it.”

“It wasn’t the main thing, but it’s certainly not the worst way to pass the time.”

I laugh and slap him lightly on the butt as he pulls his shorts up.

“Thanks for the sex,” I say. “Good game.”

Any butt-slapping between us is always an inside joke about dudes who play sports. I always feel like that’s such a weird thing for jocks to do to each other, so the first time I did it to Carter, we both cracked up and it’s been going ever since. He pats me back and adds, “You too.”

We each take some big gulps of our water, put the bottles and our trash in the basket, and get ready to hit the road again for more exploring. I look around before we leave to see if there is any way to easily find this spot again, but I have no idea how Carter found it in the first place, so I just snap a selfie of us there before we take off.

We come across another little town a way down the road, but it’s even smaller than Trequanda, so there’s not too much to see. A nice woman sitting in front of her house notices that our water bottles are low and through a mini game of charades, we realize she is offering to fill them for us. We thank her in our limited Italian and I’m pretty sure I butcher the pronunciation of grazie mille, but she smiles and seems delighted that we tried.

As we leave the town, we come to a fork in the road and Carter starts heading to the right.

“Oh, did you want to keep going? I thought we might head back to the villa,” I say.

“This is the way to the villa,” he says, oddly confident.

“Actually, it’s this way. We have to head back north.”

“North? How do you know which way is north?”

“I’ve been using my compass.” I hope this doesn’t undermine his masculinity or something.

“Brilliant. I was worried I’d get us lost. You lead the way.”

I smile and wonder how I even thought I needed to hide the fact that I didn’t want us to get lost. Maybe it’s our time apart, but I have always known Carter appreciates my intelligence. He’s much smarter than I am, but in more of a book smarts way. We’re a good team.

I lead us back down the road that takes us to Trequanda, keeping an eye out for the little bench by the stream. I miss it though, and it’s not long before we’re pulling back into the town square. I pause again to look at the church, which is even prettier in the later afternoon sunshine, when a smell hits my nose. I know immediately that I must investigate it. I turn around to see Carter a few feet behind me and clearly noticing the delicious smell also.

We get off the bikes to walk them through the square as we pull a Toucan Sam and follow our noses. Quickly, we walk down a little side street until we are at one of the two restaurants in town, Pizza Paradiso. We park our bikes on the wall outside and stroll in through the patio where I hold up two fingers to indicate how many people will be in our party.

The hostess says something in Italian that sounds very welcoming, guides us to our table, and hands us our menu. Everything is in Italian, but I feel like we can figure it out. Besides, I want whatever it is I can smell, so I trust them to send us out something delicious.

When our waiter appears, we quickly apologize and say we don’t speak Italian. I’m completely ready to bust out my charade skills again, but he speaks English and asks what we’d like to drink.

“Can you bring us whatever wine and pizza you like best?” Carter says, then looking quickly at me, “if that’s okay with you?”

“Sounds great,” I say.

As he takes our menus, I realize there was a back side filled with desserts that we didn’t check out. I turn my head to look back inside the restaurant and see a sign reading “Gelateria.”

Carter follows my gaze, then turns to me and smiles. “Should we ask our waiter for paper and a pen so you can start your notes?”

“Nah, I think I can remember one flavor until we get back to the house,” I say.

I sit back in my chair a bit and sigh, feeling a mix of peace, hunger, anticipation, and gratitude. I cannot believe how different it feels to be here, when just forty-eight hours ago I was home and completely jumbled. I will never be able to thank Carter enough for this trip.

And what if we don’t end up together? Will this trip be the end of our years-long relationship and the best goodbye ever? The thought makes me want to cry. Haven’t I always dreamed of finding a man who understands me so well he could plan a dream trip for me? And isn’t that man sitting right across from me?

As the waiter brings us a bottle of red wine and two glasses, I make a decision. For the duration of this trip, I am going to treat Carter like he is the one for me and no one else exists. If that feels completely right by the time we head back home, I can see no reason to pick back up with The Plan. And this time, I won’t let him talk me back into finishing it out.

I raise my glass to the man sitting across from me, look him directly in the eye, and say, “To us.”

“To us,” he says, looking at me with the same intensity. Did he just have the same thought I did?

Our pizza arrives before I can ask him, and all complicated relationship thoughts go out of my mind as I take in the beautiful food on our table.

“Prosciutto crudo,” our waiter says, naming the pizza as he sets it down between us. I repeat the phrase in my head a few times, hoping to lock it into my memory for future reference. Then I take a bite and realize that won’t be a problem. I will never, ever forget the name of this. And I will never, ever be able to eat crappy pizza back home again.

We take our time finishing the entire thing and the whole bottle of wine until I’m deliriously full and tipsy. Our waiter brings back the menus, dessert side up, and I close my eyes and point to something, once again trusting that anything from this establishment will be wonderful. I open my eyes to see that my finger landed on sorbetto prosecco and smile. I don’t know if that means it’s sorbet flavored like prosecco or maybe sorbet with prosecco poured around it, but I don’t care. Either sounds amazing. I should tell Carter how amazing everything is.

“Everything is amazing,” I say. “You, this food, this place. Amazing. And remember when we had sex by the stream. Ah-mazing.”

“I think someone’s a little drunk,” he replies, slurring a little. “Or maybe two someones.”

“Not drunk.” I shake my head. “Jus’ a little tipsy.”

“I love tipsy Cynthia.” He hiccoughs.

“And she loves tipsy Carter.” I smile serenely. Or, at least, it feels serene. I’m probably making drunk-idiot face.

The waiter brings back our dessert and I giggle as I see that mine is a red sorbet (raspberry, by the look of it) with prosecco poured around it. I taste it (yup—raspberry!) and let out an “mm” that feels like it will never end.

Carter got a traditional gelato with a little wafer sticking out of it. “Mm,” he says, taking his first bite. “I think this is salted caramel.”

“What was it called?” I ask, taking another delicious bite of mine.

“No idea. Told you we should have gotten paper.”

We both push our desserts across the table for the other to take a bite and give another “mm,” this time in unison. I’d laugh, but it’s more reverent than funny. This is like the church of food. And I’m the newest convert.

I finish my sorbet, then drink the rest of the prosecco in the glass, giggling a little as the bubbles go down my throat. This was one of the best days of my life and I can’t stop smiling.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say, reaching out to grab Carter’s hand.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he says. “I had so much fun planning this trip, but part of me was worried you wouldn’t come. I’ve been planning since January and had to keep telling myself I might be coming here alone, but I kept going with you in mind. So, thank you. I’d be a bit lonely here by myself. And that whole thing by the stream would have been downright creepy without you.”

I laugh so hard prosecco comes out my nose. It kinda burns, but it makes me laugh harder. I’m laughing so hard that people from other tables are looking, but I don’t care. We’ve paid our bill, so I nod toward the exit, and we make our way back to the bikes, laughing the whole way out. I hope we haven’t embarrassed ourselves too much, as I definitely want to go back there.

Looking at the bikes and assessing my state of inebriation, I make the judgment call to start walking alongside my bike. Carter does the same and we wind our way back to the edge of town, nodding and saying hello to everyone we pass. I notice there are a lot of people out and about, unlike this morning when we barely saw anyone. I look at Carter, about to comment on it, when he beats me to it.

“Passeggiata,” he says. “It’s an evening stroll that is really common in Italy.”

“Oh,” I say. “I love it. Let’s get the bikes back to the house and join them, shall we?”

We do and I am immediately in love with this idea. Why don’t we do this at home? It seems like the whole town is out and about, greeting each other and catching up in the town square and down each street. We hold hands and listen in on conversations we can’t understand, but there’s a beauty in this kind of community gathering that transcends language.

I am no longer tipsy after we’ve walked through the whole town and am surprised at how not full and lazy I feel. Normally when I eat so many carbs in a day, I just want to curl up and sleep. Is the bread here magical too?

We make our way back to Casa dei Fiordalisi and enter through the main door connecting our villa to the rest of the town. I didn’t realize the garage is actually at the back of the house and wonder now what so many of the homes in this village look like from the other side. We’ll have to take a different route on our next passeggiata.

As we walk in, I nearly gasp as I see how the sunset has changed the colors inside and on the patio. We walk through and take in the view in total silence. The hills, so green and brown when I’ve looked at them before, almost seem like they are on fire now. The sky is the most vibrant shades of pink, orange, and purple I’ve ever seen.

“It looks like a symphony,” I exhale. “No wonder composers wrote such beautiful music here.”

“And painters,” says Carter. “They were just trying to capture it all as best they could.”

“Yeah,” is all I can say.

The sun finally sets completely, and we make our way up to the bedroom, exhausted after a long, wonderful day. There will be nights, I know, when we keep exploring, but for now, there is only sleep.