Stella heaves a large bag into Paolo’s arms. ‘Another one?’ he says, rolling his eyes.
She pinches his cheek. ‘Yes, bello, another one.’
Paolo’s family has a holiday home in Sardinia, where he and Stella will be staying until the end of August. She hugs me affectionately before getting into the car. ‘Hey, my share of the rent’s on the kitchen table. Would you mind taking it to my uncle? I’ve left his address with the cash.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ I say, realising that I never told Stella about my chance meetings with Signor Fiorelli all those weeks ago. ‘Have a great time! I’ll see you both when you get back.’
I leave behind the slip of paper Stella has handed to me with Signor Fiorelli’s address on it because I already know where to find him. I ride into Florence and sure enough, he’s sitting under the shade of a small umbrella affixed to his stand in the Piazzale degli Uffizi.
‘Signorina Mia!’ he calls in his poetic voice. ‘I haven’t seen you in a while.’
‘I’ve been busy settling in. I got a job. I’m working as a nanny for twin boys, for a family in Impruneta. Their mother’s an art dealer, actually.’
‘The Balducci family?’
‘That’s the one! How did you know?’
‘Oh, I know Signora Clara very well,’ he says, gesturing towards his paintings as if offering an explanation as to how they know each other. ‘Over the years she’s commissioned a few pieces of artwork from me.’ Almost as an afterthought he asks, ‘How is she?’ and I know that he’s referring to her loss.
‘She’s actually doing pretty well.’
‘Tell me, has she seen your work?’
‘Not yet, but soon.’
‘Nervous about sharing?’ he asks with a knowing look.
‘Something like that,’ I say.
‘Aah, bella Mia. The artist’s cure for self-doubt isn’t success, nor is it approval from others. It’s knowing in your heart that the creative process itself is enough to carry you through life’s good times and not-so-good times. Your painting is an outermost expression of your inner self. So paint and share your art, knowing that your work is a gift, no matter what is reflected on the canvas. And do it because it is part of you, because when you don’t do it, you aren’t living the truest version of yourself,’ he says.
I smile, contemplating his words.
‘Mia, you seem preoccupied. Is there something else you want to say to me?’ he asks.
‘Uh, yes there is, Signor Fiorelli. I have your rent money.’
He cocks his head to the side and frowns, his lower lip protruding from his mouth as if scanning his thoughts before asking, ‘You live with my niece?’
‘Yes. You have a very nice home.’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’
‘I didn’t know if I should. I saw your studio and Stella told me about—’
‘Ah, my amore Amelia. Every time I went to paint I wanted to paint her. And so I resisted it, until such time that I understood that allowing the memories of her to come through my paintings was in fact the best thing I could have been doing.’
‘And so you come here every day?’
‘Every day, Mia, every day, since I realised that painting had the power to heal me.’
‘If you don’t mind, maybe one day I could keep you company? We could paint together?’ I ask, hoping I don’t sound too forward.
His face lights up. ‘If you would like, I would love that.’
Luca calls me in the late afternoon, telling me he’s closed the officina for the month and he’ll be passing by in fifteen minutes. Like every other time, my heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing him again. Today we end up in Fiesole, a small, picturesque town located in the Florentine hills. He points out the Villa di Maiano, before we drop in to the Fattoria di Maiano, an organic agricultural estate with its origins dating back to the fifteenth century. The friendly staff of the Lo Spaccio restaurant make sure our lunch is more than a delightful experience complemented with the local Chianti wine, which I’ve become accustomed to drinking with my meals.
After lunch we stroll through an olive grove before following a secluded path through some overgrown woods that eventually lead us to a clearing, revealing an almost hidden small lake, which is more like a large pond. There’s nothing to be heard here except for the singing of birds and the sound of our own hushed whispers.
‘Where are we? It’s like we’ve stepped into a different world.’
‘It’s a secret lake. A client from the officina told me about it years ago, but I’ve never actually seen it,’ he says.
I’m grateful for the drop in temperature after our long walk. Unlike a traditional lake, the small laghetto is surrounded by a rock wall on one side, where a quaint statue of the Madonna sits, carved into the stone. On the other side is an ancient tower with a small balcony, arched windows and a metal studded main door. Luca and I sit with our legs over the edge of the laghetto, our feet swishing around in the emerald water.
He kisses the back of my hand. ‘I like it when you’re in your heart and not in your head.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When you’re not thinking about your stuff.’
‘My baggage?’
‘Your past.’
‘You know what? I really feel like it’s almost behind me, Luca. My heart is definitely leading the way right now.’
‘How so?’
‘You. Me. This. Us. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since …’
‘The cancer?’
The undercurrent of desire beneath the look he gives me is so strong I can’t stand being even this far apart from him. I shift my body closer to his, my lips finding their way to his, but my smiling interrupts our kiss. I can’t wipe this kind of smile off my face. As he often does, Luca shifts from dreamy and serious to playful in an instant; before I know it, he’s splashing me. He stands up and takes off his t-shirt, revealing his tanned and fit body. Next, his shorts come off, exposing his boxer shorts. Without hesitating, he makes a splash in the water.
Seconds later, his head surfaces and he calls out, ‘What are you waiting for?’ Swimming across to me, he takes my hand. ‘It’s not cold, I promise.’ His irresistible smile makes it hard to say no. All my body wants to do is be near his. Half submerged in the water, he reaches for the bottom of my dress and moves it up towards my thighs. I lift off my dress, revealing my favourite cream satin bra and matching underwear, exposing parts of my body he hasn’t seen before.
Dear life, thank you for the right choice in underwear this morning.
We splash, we swim, we play, we kiss and kiss and kiss, etching treasured memories of young love in our minds that will last a lifetime in our hearts. When the skin on our fingers begins to shrivel and my teeth start to chatter, we find a spot to lie down, skin to skin, dripping wet, laughing uncontrollably just because we can. And as we let the warm Tuscan sun dry our bodies, he turns on his side to face me, head leaning on one elbow, and tells me he loves me. First in English and then, ‘Ti amo.’
Time stands still as the words sprinkle themselves over me and settle into that place inside of me reserved for him. My heart skips so many beats in a row that my hand reaches to my chest in an unsuccessful effort to still it. His hand traces the outline of my satin bra and he stops when he feels the insane beating of my love-soaked heart. How Luca has captured my heart and opened it in such a short period of time astonishes me. This is the kind of thing that happens to other people, not to me.
‘So soon? Can what you’re feeling be real?’ I whisper, scrunching my eyes closed, hating myself for potentially ruining the moment.
‘No girl has ever come close to making me feel the way I feel about you. Forget about measuring time, Mia. Love like this starts from when you feel it, not when you think you should feel it.’
‘I think I should feel it in …’
His mouth forms an amused smile. ‘I know that’s not what you feel though.’
‘I know you know that’s not what I feel. And that’s why I’m trying to tell you … that I love you, too.’
His lips brush lightly against mine, our eyes closing, lips parting, surrendering ourselves to each other as he rolls my body closer to his and presses more firmly against me. Everything tingles. I’m not even sure I’m lying on the ground anymore because everything feels so light and dizzy, like I’m being carried away on a mattress of clouds as Luca’s warm hands glide over all the curves and edges of my body.
‘So now you really are mia,’ he whispers breathlessly into my ear. My eyes flutter open, greeted by his beautiful smile hovering over me. I return the smile and then he says, ‘So does this mean you’ll come to Positano with me?’
‘Wait, what? When are we going to Positano?’
‘Can you wait until tomorrow morning?’
‘Are you serious? I’ve been dreaming about visiting the Amalfi Coast!’
‘Yeah, I noticed,’ he says, tickling me under the chin.
I can’t hold back my enthusiasm, but Luca suddenly presses his finger against my mouth, warning me to be quiet.
‘Shh! I think someone’s coming,’ he says. He stands and pulls me up to my feet.
‘I thought this was a secret place!’ I can vaguely hear the sound of distant voices.
‘It is, but it’s also private property.’ He laughs.
‘Oh my God!’ I grab my dress and frantically begin pulling it over my head. ‘Come on!’ I say, willing him to hurry up. He’s laughing at my urgency, taking his time as usual. I’m sure if we get caught he’ll be able to sweet-talk his way out of it, but I don’t care, I just want to get out of here. We grab our shoes and race through the bushes, back to the scooter, laughing most of the way.
I mount the scooter and hug him from behind. ‘This has been such a good day.’
‘Amore mio, it’s not over yet.’
Back at the villa, after we freshen up and get changed, Luca grabs a bottle of wine from the cellar while I make up a platter of antipasto. We set up a cosy spot on the lawn near the swing. It’s a balmy evening, the kind of evening that feels as though life has slowed down especially for us. I lie on my stomach, prop myself up on my elbows and read a book, while Luca flicks through a car magazine. When the sun begins to set and the temperature drops, he takes my book and closes it, setting it down beside me. He guides me to stand, lifts me into his arms and carries me to the swing. My legs overlap his, and as the summer breeze tickles our skin, under a sky the colour of ripe peaches, we watch the rich orange sun set behind the green Tuscan hills. Completely loved up, we sit amongst the sound of silence, letting the gentle sway of the swing soothe our souls, until the first stars appear in the night sky.
‘I think we should get a padlock, bella mia,’ Luca casually whispers, gazing at the sky.
‘What do you think the chances were of us meeting each other and it turning into what we have now?’ I ask.
‘I’d say probably close to zero. What do you think the chances are of seeing a falling star tonight?’
‘Probably a little more than zero.’
‘Look up,’ he says.
I question him with my eyes and then he says, ‘It’s the night of Saint Lorenzo—the night of shooting stars. They’re all yours to wish on—hundreds of them.’
‘I don’t have that many wishes though,’ I murmur as I look up at the sky. Sure enough, there they are, silver streaks dotting themselves across the sky; glittering sparks of hope on a backdrop so vast it’s never-ending. I sit there, mesmerised by how beautiful the sky looks tonight. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’
He pulls me across his lap so I’m facing him, and strokes my cheek.
‘What will you wish for?’ he asks, his voice low.
‘Can’t tell you.’
‘But if you could?’
‘To never be apart from you.’
‘Don’t ever let anyone tell you that wishes can’t come true, painter girl.’
‘What about you? What’s your wish?’
He looks up at the sky and says, ‘That we never stop feeling the way we feel about each other tonight.’ Then he rests his forehead against mine and says, ‘And for the record, I don’t plan on going anywhere.’
‘You mean tonight?’
‘Tonight or ever.’
I couldn’t have imagined tonight being any more special if I’d tried. I exhale a deep breath I’ve been holding onto.
My hands go to slip my shirt off over my head.
‘Not here, not yet,’ he whispers. His hands travel under my top, sending slow currents of warmth through my body. ‘Just let me kiss you.’
Suddenly everything feels like it’s in slow motion, and I don’t want any of it to speed up. I want to be locked in his arms like this forever.
Eventually the swinging comes to a gentle stop.
‘Did you feel that?’ I ask.
A smile spreads across his face. ‘Your heart beating?’
‘No—the raindrop.’
‘It can’t be raining.’
‘Look,’ I say, pointing to the drops of water on my arm. He takes my arm and kisses it slowly, all the way up to my neck, where his lips remain until the air turns humid. More raindrops start to fall on me, a light spray at first, followed by a few heavier droplets.
Luca must feel them, too, because he pauses and looks up at the sky. ‘Damn, it is raining,’ he says, just as a flash of light flickers in the sky before a clap of thunder rolls in, bringing with it a light shower.
‘God, I adore the smell of summer rain.’
‘You do?’ he asks in a shallow breath, bringing my face closer to his as water trickles over us.
‘Mmm,’ I murmur, his lips on mine, his hands framing my face.
Another thunderous boom echoes from the sky, bringing with it a downpour of droplets that hit the ground below us with force. Luca doesn’t flinch or interrupt our kiss until another flash of lightning illuminates the sky.
‘I should probably let you know that I’m not really a huge fan of lightning.’
He smiles lazily. ‘Well then maybe we should take this inside.’ I hold onto him tightly as he scoops me up into his arms and carries me towards the villa, both of us now completely drenched from head to toe.
‘Let me get you a towel,’ I say.
I make my way into the en suite bathroom and grab a towel for Luca, which I toss over to him. From the bathroom mirror I can see him sitting on the edge of the bed, where he pulls off his shirt, exposing his lean and muscular torso. As I stand there watching him, I realise just how special my feelings for Luca are. I’m all kinds of in love with this guy. The kind of love that covers all the bases, ticks off all the boxes. Physical, emotional, and that rare, once-in-a-lifetime, soulful kind of love, where it feels like your fate was knitted together long before you met. And when you do finally meet, you realise you’ve found the person you can never live without. You can’t fathom how you survived even a day without that person—the one who makes you weak at the knees with every glance, smile or touch, who fills you up with so much of the good stuff that you forget what it ever felt like to be empty.
‘Hold on, I’m just going to dry my hair. I won’t be long.’
I close the bathroom door behind me and slump my shoulders against it. I breathe deeply into that place that feels raw and tender until the hesitation about what I’m about to do begins to subside.
My fingers tremble as I reach for the bottle of acetone from the bathroom cabinet. I pour some of the liquid onto my fingers, and with my other hand I reach for the first extension. I roll the hair between my thumb and forefinger, the glue disintegrating underneath, slowly freeing me from having to hide anymore. My heart skips a beat as my thoughts drift to Luca and how he might react when he sees me—the real me, all of me. The rest of my extensions fall away, like dropped stitches left to unravel from a knitted blanket, until the long tresses of hair that never belonged to me in the first place are piled up in the sink.
‘Mia, you’ve been in there a while. Is everything okay?’ asks Luca through the door.
‘I’ll just be a minute. Almost done.’
At the sound of Luca’s voice, a surge of excitement trickles through me as I glance back at myself in the mirror.
Slowly, I emerge through the bathroom door into the shadows of my bedroom, lit up from the dim glow of the scented pillar candles on my nightstand. Luca’s sitting on the bed, flicking through my art portfolio, while he hums to some soft tunes playing in the background.
‘I love this one,’ he says, pointing to a painting of him sitting on the edge of the Ponte Vecchio.
I smile to myself, because he still hasn’t noticed me. Standing here, exposed like this, makes me feel breathless. He eventually sets the folder aside and looks up at me, his eyes softening as he blinks away the surprise. A deep breath escapes his lips. ‘Wow,’ he whispers, his eyes drinking me in. A hint of a smile crosses his lips, and it’s enough to reassure me.
My clothes are still wet, clinging to my body, and my skin has turned cold; there are goosebumps on my skin, but inside, I’m warmer and more alive than I’ve ever felt before. I move towards Luca so that I’m standing in front of him, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his body without him touching me. He holds my gaze with his as my hands travel down my shirt, pushing each button through its hole. The wet fabric feels heavy until I loosen it off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor beside me. Luca is watching me so intensely now that I’m finding it hard to even breathe. I inhale the top notes of vanilla, the heart notes of the summer rain, and finally the base notes of his signature scent, the timeless fragrance that remains when the top notes evaporate away.
My hands find their way to the metal button of my jeans. I slide down the zipper and start rolling the wet fabric that has been clinging to me far too tightly and for far too long, down my waist, my thighs, and past my knees. I bend over and slip my jeans over my ankles. I take a step forward as my hands reach for the clasp behind my back.
Now I’m standing so close to Luca that I’m almost certain he can hear my heart beating. Seconds of stillness pass between us. His eyes are speaking a thousand words, but I only hear three of them. Before I can catch my breath, he reaches for my hand and stands up.
His hand travels around my waist, guiding my body closer to his, his touch warming me, breathing life into me. He rests his forehead against mine and I place my palms against his chest. My heart is racing, synchronising itself with his.
His eyes fixate on mine in a love-soaked gaze as he gently runs his hands through the short tufts of hair on my head, slowly tucking the loose strands that frame my face behind my ear. And then he brushes his lips across my cheek and whispers into my ear, ‘You’ve never been more beautiful to me than you are right now.’
He plants a trail of slow kisses down my neck while his hand travels up my arm, his fingers slipping under the thin strap on my shoulder. He slides it down over one arm first and then the other before it falls away, and now there is truly nowhere to hide. My arms wrap themselves around him as he presses his body against mine, my body melting into his, surrendering completely as everything outside of us evaporates. He moves his hand behind my head and guides my face closer to his. I close my eyes and now I can feel the softness of his lips against mine. They’re kissing me so tenderly it almost feels like I’m imagining it. He detaches briefly and in a voice so smooth and heavy, whispers, ‘A lifetime of “I love yous” could not come close to what I’m feeling for you right now.’
I want to reply that I feel the same way, but as I return the kiss, I realise that I don’t need to. He already knows.