Lilliana Jones and the Temple of Groom

by Rich Amooi

  “Rossi.”

  Marco laughed. “Okay, maybe it will take a little work, considering he has one of the most popular names in all of Italy. We’ll find him—don’t worry. We’ll also find you a husband.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him, not amused he was teasing her. “You want me to wipe that grin off your face?”

  He laughed again. “I’ll do it.” He waved his hand over his face like a magic wand. His smile disappeared. “There. Done.”

  Twenty minutes later they were on a train traveling south toward Naples, admiring the Italian countryside and the lesser-known cities like Monte San Biagio and Cicerone.

  Marco gestured toward the front of the train. “Looks like you have a fan. Potential husband?”

  Lilly glanced toward the kid who was smiling at her. “You trying to get me in jail? He looks like he’s twelve.”

  “He’s at least eighteen, I guarantee it.”

  “You can add another ten years to that and he’ll still be too young. I prefer to meet someone around thirty.”

  “Like me,” Marco said, sitting up straight and grinning.

  “You’re thirty?”

  He nodded. “Exactly thirty to the day.”

  Lilly blinked. “Today’s your birthday?”

  He nodded again.

  “How come you didn’t say anything?”

  “I just did.”

  “No. I mean, earlier. Or yesterday. And why are you spending your birthday with a stranger on a train? Don’t you want to be with family or friends?”

  He twisted his body so he could face her a little better. “I don’t go around advertising my birthday. And why am I spending my birthday with a stranger? First, I don’t consider you a stranger anymore. You gave up your stranger status on the plane when you asked me to marry you.”

  “I was asleep. That doesn’t count.”

  “Does, too.” Marco laughed. “It’s amazing what I learned about you while you slept.”

  “Tell me what you know about me that doesn’t have to do with being a teeny bit uptight about planning or my body’s hatred of lactose. You’ve got nothing.”

  Most men were clueless about women. Marco didn’t know her. What could he know about her? She tucked her hair behind her ears and waited for him to respond.

  “There.” He pointed to her head. “Right there.”

  “Right where?”

  “That thing you do with your hair.”

  “What thing?”

  “You always tuck hair behind your ears when you get nervous or uncomfortable.”

  She raised her hand to tuck her hair behind her ears again and dropped it back down to her lap. “I do not.”

  He was right. That’s amazing. She didn't even know she did that. It was subconscious, but he was right. How did he notice subtle nuances like that? Nobody else had ever mentioned that before, but wow . . . She placed one hand over the other, trying to hold it down. His intense, confident gaze stayed with her and she needed to say something.

  “Okay.” She tried to think of something else. “You got lucky. Maybe I do that occasionally.”

  Marco chuckled. “Or all the time.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Let’s change the subject.”

  “You did it again.”

  “Crap!”

  They arrived in Naples an hour later. It was a beautiful day, and the streets were crowded with locals and tourists.

  Marco pointed. “This way . . . Before we catch the ferry you're going to enjoy the best pizza in the world.”

  Lilly stopped. “The cheese. Remember?”

  “I remember. This pizza is so good it doesn’t need cheese.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Cheese makes the pizza.”

  “Yeah? Not in Italy. You just wait.”

  They continued their walk and approached three teenage kids leaning against the wall, all on their phones. One of them looked up and pointed at Lilly, saying something in Italian. The other two looked up, one of them appearing to be surprised. They said something else in Italian and Marco laughed.

  Lilly glanced back at them. “What did they say?”

  “Something about you and the Pope in the bathroom.”

  Lilly stopped.

  Marco continued on ahead of her and then stopped, turning back around. “What?”

  She didn’t answer and moved toward him, trying to piece everything together.

  A teenage boy smiled at Lilly, then showed his grandmother something on his phone. The woman eyed the phone, gasped, and then looked up at Lilly. She moved in Lilly’s direction, rolled up her newspaper, and swatted Lilly on the arm with it.

  Marco watched the woman walk away and then turned to Lilly. “Are you an escaped convict or something? These people know you?”

  She was sure she knew what was going on and was horrified at the thought. How could this happen? She flashed back to her time in the bathroom and what she went through. The pain. The lack of toilet paper. The newspaper with the picture of the Pope. And the biggest shock of them all, the kid who took her picture through the open window.

  Another person approached and snapped a picture of Lilly.

  Lilly moved faster down the sidewalk. “I could just die. Get a move on.” They continued down the street until Lilly spotted an alley to hide.

  Marco followed and then looked back to the street. “What’s going on?”

  “I think I went viral.”

  Marco felt bad but he couldn’t stop laughing. How in the world did Lilly go from being so sick in an Italian restaurant to becoming an Internet star? He stopped another teenager who took Lilly’s picture. The kid showed Marco a photo of Lilly in the bathroom in a compromising position.

  “Quit laughing,” said Lilly. “This is not funny. How am I going to walk the streets or be anywhere in public? This is your fault.”

  Marco placed his hand on his chest. “My fault? How is this my fault?”

  “You were the one who wanted to go to that restaurant. A restaurant without menus for a person who is lactose intolerant is like walking into a minefield.”

  “You could have told me you were lactose intolerant when I mentioned there were no menus. That should have been the first thing out of your mouth. And besides that, what were you doing walking around the bathroom half naked with a picture of the Pope?”

  Lilly explained what had happened and Marco laughed again.

  “I’m going back to Rome,” said Lilly, turning to leave the alley.

  “Oh no, you’re not,” said Marco. “I’m sorry.” A large group of teenagers approached, all with smart phones in their hands. “Come here.” Marco grabbed Lilly’s carryon and rolled it with his toward the bakery behind them. “Quick. Hug me.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  Marco yanked her in his direction and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Relax,” whispered Marco. “There's a large group of kids coming this way. I’m just hiding you, that’s all.”

  Marco hoped the kids took their time because he enjoyed having Lilly in his arms. When was the last time he was this close to a woman? So sad that he couldn’t even remember. He missed it so much.

  Maybe he could milk it a little longer. “I’ll let you know when they pass.”

  Lilly didn’t seem to mind at all. A few seconds later, she relaxed and moved her face to the side of his neck. Holy cow, she smelled amazing.

  “Are you sniffing me?” Lilly asked.

  “Maybe . . .”

  Lilly laughed. “You’re not sure?”

  “Okay, I am. I can’t help it—you smell great.”

  Lilly cleared her throat. “I don’t hear the kids anymore.”

  Marco pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Yeah . . .”

  Damn, she was gorgeous.

  She looked away and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. They’d had a nice little intimate moment there, but he wasn’t going to mention a thing.

  Lill
y shook her head like she was trying to remember something. “What were we talking about before the teenagers walked by?”

  “You were being a big baby, saying you were going back to Rome.”

  “Big baby? Come on. I don’t want to spend the entire trip being laughed at by the citizens of Italy. Better to hide in my hotel room.”

  “No way. I’ve got a quick fix for this and then we can go to have the pizza.”

  Lilly studied Marco for a moment. “You can fix this?”

  “Absolutely,” he answered with all the confidence in the world. “I have an idea.”

  “You always have ideas—that's the problem.”

  “Trust me.” He grabbed her by the hand. “Follow me and keep your head down.”

  Lilly sighed. "Why not? It can't get much worse, can it?"

  Marco didn't answer. He led Lilly down the street a few blocks and made a right and then the first left. A few minutes later Marco found what he was looking for and stopped. “Here.”

  Lilly stared at the giant sign on the glass door. “Parrucchiere.”

  He nodded. “Superb pronunciation.”

  “Thank you, but what is this place?”

  “Take a peek inside.”

  Lilly put her hand against the glass to block the glare so she could see the inside of the business. “I see glass shelves filled from top to bottom with fancy bottles of shampoo, conditioner, mouse, gel, and other hair products. And three salon chairs. All empty. You’re suddenly in the mood for haircut?”

  He grinned. “No, but you are.”

  She did a double take. “What? Me?” She let out a nervous laugh. “No way.”

  “This is the perfect way for you to take on a different appearance, so people won’t connect you with the Pope.”

  “No. I would feel like I’m in the witness protection program.”

  “When was the last time you did something different with your hair?”

  “Never.”

  “Never?”

  Lilly shook her head. “Never.”

  Marco stared at her for a moment, confused. “You’re a woman, right?”

  “I don’t like change, remember?”

  “I thought you didn’t like to do things if they weren’t planned. Have you ever wanted to try something different with your hair?”

  “They could make a huge mistake and have to chop it all off.”

  “Yes or no. Have you ever wanted to try something different with your hair?”

  She looked deep in thought. “Yes. I've always wanted to have it darker. Black.”

  “I think you’d look amazing with black hair.” Marco swung open the door. “This won’t take long and then you won’t have to worry about people harassing you or wanting to take their picture with you.”

  Lilly just stood there.

  Marco pointed to her feet. “See those things attached to the bottom of your legs? They’re called feet. Use them!”

  Lilly stared at the open door as Marco contemplated dragging her inside.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two hours later, Gino the stylist spun Lilly around in the salon chair until she faced the mirror.

  “Another masterpiece!” he said with his thick Italian accent. A proud smile formed on his face. “You are like sweet chocolate for my eyes.”

  “Grazie.” Lilly turned her head to the left, then to the right, admiring her new look. She had to admit, she was rocking it. She loved it so much she wanted to scream.

  This was a huge breakthrough.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had done something so drastic, so out of character.

  So spontaneous.

  She felt exhilarated and alive.

  Marco set the magazine on the table and stood. He had promised not to look until her hair was done. He took a few steps toward her and stopped. She loved the way he was looking at her. She felt like a rock star. Like a diva.

  Like somebody.

  He took another few steps toward her and nodded his approval. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful. I was so wrong.”

  Gino removed the cape from around Lilly and she stood, thinking about what Marco had said.

  Was he aware that that was exactly what she needed to hear? Was he aware that she wanted to kiss him right there at that moment?

  Marco’s gaze dropped to her lips.

  Yup. I think he’s very aware of what’s going through my mind.

  But as tempting as his lips were, she wouldn't be kissing them. They didn’t have a future together. The more time she spent with him the more she liked him, but that was it. It would never go from like to love. Still, there was nothing wrong with thanking him for this breakthrough.

  She stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. I owe this all to you.”

  “I did nothing. You were the one who did this.” He continued to stare at her lips. He needed to stop doing that.

  “I think you forced me to come in here. Maybe even threatened me.”

  Marco laughed and pulled out his wallet, flipping through the bills.

  “Put that away,” Lilly said. There was no way she would let Marco pay for her new hairdo. He’d already paid for the meal yesterday, plus the train tickets. And it was his birthday!

  Before she could pull her wallet out of her purse, Marco already had handed the money to Gino. “Grazie.” He turned to Lilly. “Too late. Sorry about that.”

  She pushed her wallet back into her purse and zipped it closed. “Right. You look so sorry.”

  Marco laughed and pointed to the door. “If it makes you feel any better, you can treat me to pizza.”

  She thanked Gino, grabbed the handle of her suitcase and rolled it outside, following Marco. “That’s right. The famous pizzeria with the cheese-less pizza. This I gotta see.”

  “It’s not just pizza they’re famous for,” said Marco, leading her down the sidewalk.

  “What else do they offer? Cheese-less cheese puffs? A cheese-less grilled cheese sandwich? How about a—”

  “Okay, you just wait and see.”

  Lilly laughed and thought about the pizza. When was the last time she had one? The truth was she missed eating it and a cheese-less pizza would be amazing, if it were just as enjoyable. She didn’t see how it would be possible to pull off such a feat.

  A few minutes later Marco pointed across the street at the long line of people on the sidewalk.

  “Are we going to wait in that line?”

  “It goes faster than you think.”

  They crossed the street and passed all the people, stopping right in front of the entrance.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Marco, rolling his suitcase alongside Lilly’s. “I need to grab a ticket with a number.”

  “Okay,” said Lilly, placing her free hand on the handle of Marco’s carryon. Any doubts of this being a good pizza place were erased from her brain after seeing the wait.

  She glanced up at the sign. “Pizzeria da Michele.”

  The name sounded familiar. She’d never been to Naples before, so it made little sense. The building looked familiar, too. And the inside. Maybe she was having a déjà vu moment.

  Weird.

  Marco came back out and waved the ticket at Lilly. “Got it.” He studied Lilly for a second and frowned. “Why do you look so confused?”

  “It’s just . . . I almost feel as if I’ve been here before. There’s something so familiar . . .”

  Marco laughed. “A past life?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, you’ll be happy to know they have menus here.”

  She glanced over to the wall, noticing the world’s smallest menu. “They only have two types of pizzas?”

  He grinned. “Margarita and marinara. One with cheese. One without.”

  “Huh . . .”

  “I want to sit where Julia Roberts sat,” said a female voice behind Lilly.

  Lilly turned to look at the woman and then read the sign on the building again
. “Pizzeria da Michele.”

  “Practicing your Italian?” Marco asked. “Excellent.”

  “Hang on,” said Lilly, trying to focus. “This is the pizzeria from Eat, Pray, Love.”

  “I told you they were famous for more than just their pizza napolitana.”

  She looked inside and spotted a picture of Julia Roberts on the wall. Lilly had read Eat, Pray, Love and had seen the movie twice.

  An hour later their number was called and Marco and Lilly both ordered marinara pizzas with beer.

  She wondered if Marco had ordered the cheese-less pizza because of her, but didn’t ask.

  Once they could grab an open table they sat, and Lilly held out her beer bottle. “Happy birthday.”

  Marco clinked her bottle. “Thank you.”

  The pizza was chewy and tasty and it had no cheese! How was that possible?

  After Lilly’s third delicious bite, she set the slice down when she noticed something odd.

  Marco’s pizza sat there uneaten, his eyes intense on Lilly. He took a sip of his beer and smiled.

  What are you waiting for?

  She took another bite, enjoying the amazing flavor, but she was feeling self-conscious. He was the one who convinced her that this was the best pizza ever, and he wasn’t even touching it.

  “Okay, knock it off and eat your pizza,” she said.

  “You still haven’t said how much you like the pizza.”

  “My moaning didn’t give you a clue?”

  “I need to hear from your lips.”

  “Fine. My lips will tell you that this is incredible pizza, and you were right.”

  “I’m always right.”

  Lilly smirked. “And humble.” She looked around the pizzeria and smiled. “I can’t believe I’m here. I love being in places where they’ve shot movies. I’m a big Elizabeth Gilbert fan too, and I’m going to see her next week.”

  “Socializing with the elite? What are you doing with Elizabeth Gilbert? Champagne brunch? Pajama sleepover?”

  Lilly laughed. “Not quite. She’s giving a lecture in Berkeley and my best friend and I have tickets. I’m so looking forward to it.” She glanced around the place again. “This was a wonderful surprise coming here. Thank you for bringing me.”

  “My pleasure.” He took another sip of his beer before taking his first bite of pizza. “I’m enjoying this very much.”