by Sophie Love
“Does waiting tables make you happy?” Keira asked.
“Does being busy all the time in New York make you?” Cristiano joked in reply.
Keira raised an eyebrow. She was thoroughly enjoying her time with him. He seemed fearless, and witty. She couldn’t help but be reminded of Shane, who had a sharp sense of humor. It had been one of the things that made her fall in love with him. Then there was the alcohol connoisseurism—though Shane’s had been a penchant for Guinness in contrast to Cristiano’s slightly more highbrow love for wine!
But Cristiano was completely different in many other ways. For starters, he dressed impeccably. Shane had been scruffy at the best of times, with a scraggly beard. Cristiano on the other had was clean-shaven. His skin was olive, contrasting Shane’s alabaster white, his eyes as black as coal while Shane’s had been pools of blue.
Keira shook the thoughts from her head. She didn’t want to think about Shane. And she definitely didn’t want to sit here comparing the two.
Their entrees arrived. They ate, drank, and continued to chat some more. Cristiano spoke to her about the history of Italy and their way of life. As he spoke, his accent soft and lilting, Keira felt the romance of the place come alive.
She was so enraptured by his words she didn’t even notice when her plate was cleared, or when a small board of cheese and Limoncello was placed before them.
“Have you tried our famous lemon liqueur before?” Cristiano asked her, with a twinkle in his eye.
“No, it looks very exciting,” Keira replied.
She took the small glass and sipped. The drink was like liquid candy, like a melted sour lemon bon-bon. She’d never tasted anything quite like it.
“I have to bring some of this back to my sister!” Keira exclaimed. “She will love it.”
“You have a sister?” Cristiano asked. “I do too. But let me guess. Your sister is as exquisitely beautiful as you are.”
Keira blushed deeply, shocked by how forward Cristiano had been. She reminded herself not to read too much into the comment. Perhaps it was just the Italian way. The Internet cafe woman had told her that Italian men knew all the right things to say. Maybe they were more open about things like that.
The waiter appeared and refilled Keira’s glass.
“This is on the house,” the waiter said with a wink. “For my good friend Cristiano.” He clapped a hand on Cristiano’s shoulder before walking away.
“You know the waiter?” Keira asked, surprised. He hadn’t mentioned it all night.
“I’ve worked here before,” Cristiano said, blushing.
“Are you embarrassed?” Keira asked, shocked. He hadn’t come across as the shy type to her at all.
“A little,” he replied. “I do not want you to think I am cheap.”
“Oh please, I don’t care about that sort of thing,” Keira replied. She thought of Glen and his five-year plan. “Men with money don’t impress me.”
She caught Cristiano’s eye then, realizing that she’d made a somewhat suggestive comment, implying that he’d been trying to impress her in the first place. To her delight, he wasn’t refuting it, but flirting right back with his eyes.
Keira took another drink of Limoncello and giggled. She was starting to feel a little drunk, and the sensation was wonderful. She felt carefree for the first time since Shane had ended it with her, and quickly lost count of how long they stayed at the restaurant. The sky was completely black now, and the candle on their table had burned down to a stump. When Keira looked around, she realized they were the last people there. She hadn’t even noticed the rest of the diners leaving. It wasn’t often that something—or someone—caught her attention quite as thoroughly as Cristiano had.
“Perhaps it is time for bed?” Cristiano said.
Keira’s eyes widened. Was he propositioning her? Or was she just hearing what she wanted? She wracked her brains trying to think of how to respond.
“You will need a good night’s rest,” Cristiano added, “before I can take you out tomorrow and show you all the beauty Italy has to offer.”
Keira giggled, realizing his statement had just gotten a little lost in translation in her head.
“Shall I walk you back to Oceano Hotel?” Cristiano asked.
“That would be very nice,” Keira said, feeling a little wobbly as she stood up. The effects of the alcohol were suddenly making themselves very known.
They walked slowly together up through the winding streets, taking their time. For Keira, it felt like she was lingering, trying to soak up as much time with Cristiano as possible. She wondered if it was the same way for him, or if he always adopted such a languorous pace. She wanted to remind herself not to get too ahead here, but she hadn’t imagined the flirting, had she? And wasn’t it her job to explore love and romance?
They made it to the steps of the hotel. Cristiano took Keira’s hand and led her up the last two steps, then bowed and planted a kiss on it. It took all of Keira’s willpower not to throw herself at him.
“Good night,” he said suavely. “Tomorrow will be a wonderful day.”
Keira didn’t doubt it. She swirled into the hotel, feeling like she was walking on air. She practically danced through the corridors and up to her room. When she shut the door behind her, she had to rest against it to catch her breath. She felt smitten, lust-drunk on Cristiano, and wondered if he shared anywhere near the same intensity of feelings toward her, or whether his attitude was just part of his culture. She’d heard tales of Italian Lotharios.
Giddy with excitement for tomorrow, Keira dressed for bed. It was only as she tucked herself under the covers and began writing out a variety of different openings to the article that the magic feeling started to be overtaken with guilt. How quickly she had allowed herself to stop thinking about Shane, the true love of her life. How easily she had erased his face from her mind and replaced it with Cristiano’s. Was the rebound romance her friends and sister urged her to experience really the right thing for her?
Or was she just setting herself up for another fall?
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning Keira hurried to get herself washed and dressed. She couldn’t wait to see Cristiano again.
As she rushed downstairs into the foyer of the hotel, she saw that Cristiano was already waiting for her. In the bright sunlight he looked even more stunning. He was dressed impeccably, more like a businessman than a tour guide. In fact, there was no way you’d ever guess what his job was, unlike Shane who couldn’t look smart even if he tried.
Keira felt her heart fluttering as she walked over toward him. She’d dressed in a summer maxi dress with gladiator sandals, and tied her hair up in a bun. The weather was so glorious there was no way she’d need her denim jacket, but the sunglasses perched on her head would definitely come in handy.
Cristiano turned at the sound of her footsteps. Keira watched, her heart leaping, as his gaze roved from her feet all the way up her body. She didn’t want to make any assumptions but she got the distinct impression that he liked what he saw.
“Your dress,” Cristiano said, his eyes twinkling. “It is beautiful.”
Keira blushed. “I like your shiny shoes.”
She felt embarrassed immediately by her odd comment. But Cristiano just laughed in his carefree way.
“Thank you,” he said. “Are you ready for the tour?”
Keira nodded. She couldn’t help the way she felt giddy in Cristiano’s company, or how she became tongue-tied. He had a look in his eye that seemed to be undressing her and as much as she enjoyed it, it also alarmed her.
Cristiano offered his arm out for her to take. He was quite the gentleman. She looped her arm through his, enjoying the display of chivalry.
He helped her down the stone steps. The flowers were in full bloom, surrounding them with bright purples and fuchsia pinks. There was definitely something romantic about Positano; it was utterly charming, with small stores set into the cliffside and dramatic views of the ocean b
elow.
“I would like to take you to a cafe,” Cristiano said. “There will surely be some people there you can interview for your article.”
“Thank you,” Keira said, having quite forgotten that she was there to work rather than swoon. Then she added, “It’s not an Internet cafe is it?”
Cristiano looked a little confused. “No, of course not.”
Keira sighed, relieved. “Just checking.”
As Cristiano led Keira through the winding streets, he greeted many of the locals they passed. Keira got the distinct impression that Cristiano was a very sociable man; he certainly seemed to know everyone in Positano at least!
“How are you so popular?” Keira teased him as they ambled down a stony slope in the direction of a square filled with bright umbrellas and bistro tables.
“I take time to make friends,” he said with a shrug. “I think people are wonderful. I love to know their stories.”
Keira smiled to herself. Stories, personal narratives, that’s why she’d gotten into writing in the first place. It pleased her that they had that in common.
Cristiano led her to the cafe and gestured for her to sit at one of the outside tables shaded by an umbrella.
“I am good friends with the barista here,” he explained. “We can probably get some coffees on the house.”
A waiter came over then, smiling genially at Cristiano. They spoke in Italian briefly, and Keira caught the sound of her name. The waiter peered at her, smiling. Just like Cristiano, he had the same passionate, smoldering look in his eyes. She wondered whether all men in Italy looked at women like that.
The waiter took her hand and kissed it.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Keira. I’m Vanni. Now, don’t you break this man’s heart,” he warned her. “A beautiful American girl like you.”
“Hardly,” Keira said, blushing. But the comment secretly pleased her.
Vanni disappeared inside the cafe and came back a short time later with three coffees on a tray. In the foam he’d created beautiful love heart designs. Then he sat down beside them and crossed one leg over the other, his fashionable brogues on display.
“You are here to interview me, I believe,” he said.
“I am,” Keira replied, hurriedly grabbing her notebook from her purse. How easy it was to forget she was here to work and not flirt. “That would be wonderful. Can you speak to me a bit about your experiences of love in Positano?”
Vanni smiled mischievously. “It is a very romantic place. You see that, yes?”
“I do,” Keira agreed. “Have you had many experiences of love here?”
“So many,” he said with a dreamy grin. “So many beautiful women in Italy. So much food to eat, and wine to drink. Here, we understand that life is for the living. We dance, we party, we make love. Every summer, we fall in love.”
Keira jotted down everything Vanni said. “What about when it’s not summer?” she asked. “Are you still in love then?”
He shrugged, seemingly very nonchalant about the whole thing. “It depends. The women here might not want a relationship to last that long. Besides, they know the rules. They understand how it works with Italian men.”
Keira’s interest was piqued. “The rules?” she asked, curiously. “What are they?”
Vanni gave Cristiano a knowing look and Keira got the distinct impression that there was some kind of unspoken agreement between them, shared between Italian men in general. She frowned, a little uncomfortable.
“The women here know that the men are not exclusive,” Vanni told her. “They never can be.”
“You mean they cheat?” Keira replied, horrified, recalling the pain she herself had felt from Zach’s affair.
“Is it cheating if neither person expects fidelity?” Vanni questioned her.
Keira wasn’t sure what to make of his statement. She was reminded of the woman in the Internet cafe and what she’d so passionately told her. Did Italian men claim to be in love with women when they knew it was just going to be a short-lived fling, one during which they’d make no promises to remain exclusive? Or was everyone a party to the system? Did the women benefit just as much as the men, from being adored for a season, enjoying a fantasy love affair and all the intensity that came with it without any of the strings attached? She just couldn’t be certain.
“Maybe you could tell me a bit more about it,” she said. “It sounds very different from how we do things in New York. We date many different people too but we’re cautious about when we tell someone we love them.”
She thought of Bryn as she said it and realized that like most people, her sister approached dating in New York in the same way she did job-seeking. Her dates were more like interviews, the swipe-left or swipe-right selection process analogous to sifting through resumes.
Vanni dismissed her comments with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense. We are all doing the same thing. We just accept that love is not forever. It can last a short moment, maybe just a month, maybe no more than a weekend. But why pretend it is not love? Why not dive into the pleasure all the way?”
Keira thought about her short-lived relationship with Shane. Had he had the same attitude as Cristiano and his friend, that love didn’t have to mean forever? Maybe she’d misinterpreted their whole relationship.
“You must experience a lot of heartache,” she noted.
Vanni shrugged, seemingly as nonchalant about heartbreak as he’d appeared about the ease with which he could fall in love.
“Life is about pain, as well, is it not?” he said, philosophically. “Without the lows, the highs would not feel as high.”
“But without so many highs, you’d get more stability,” Keira contested.
“Who wants stability?” The waiter laughed. “It is boring! Especially when we are young. Our bodies are healthy and beautiful. Do you want to just settle with a man now and prepare for motherhood? Of course you do not! You want to use this fine vehicle that God gave you and experience all the wonder you can.”
Keira found herself shrinking a little under the intensity of his words. He seemed very passionate, and she wondered how much the women he hooked up with were aware of his views in advance. There was certainly nothing wrong with cultural differences in the approach toward love as long as everyone was on board. But what the waiter was describing seemed quite close to the American equivalent of a player, someone who pretended they cared more for a girl than they did just to get her in bed, who liked the thrill of the chase and the excitement of someone new more than they did the actual experience of connecting romantically with someone.
She cleared her throat. “I understand what you’re saying, but why do you need more than one woman at a time? If you truly fall in love with these women as you claim and have a passionate, loving affair with them, then why would you need more than one?”
“Do you feel satisfied with one lover?” Vanni countered. “Is one person able to tick all your boxes, meet all your needs?”
“Yes,” Keira replied, an image of Shane intruding into her mind.
“I don’t believe you,” he argued back. “When you are with a man, you really do not look at another? You have never felt your heart belong to one but have space for more?”
With a sting of guilt, Keira realized that she was indeed in that very position right now. She was still deeply in love with Shane—the way his face haunted her mind was testament to that. But she had also allowed herself to get completely wrapped up in Cristiano. Maybe she was the naive one. Maybe there was something to this idea that one lover could never be enough, one person could never provide all your needs. And once the mind was open to the idea of being able to love more than one person at once because of their different qualities, then the position she was in right now with her heart belonging to Shane but craving Cristiano made perfect sense.
“Would you say you respect the women you’re with?” she asked.
“Of course. I love them. I cannot live without them.”
“
But you need more than one?”
“Yes.”
Keira tried to wrap her head around it. She felt like she was starting to understand, though it still felt paradoxical to her. At least she was getting some good material. She could clearly see how to approach this interview in her article.
“We need to go now,” Cristiano said, looking at his watch.
“We do?” Keira asked, surprised. She had gotten wrapped up in the thought-provoking discussion.
“Yes, we are heading to Capri today,” Cristiano continued. “You need to collect your case from the hotel.”
They both stood and Keira thanked Vanni for his sublime coffee and his contribution to the article. He kissed her on each cheek as a way of saying goodbye and then spoke in a hushed voice to Cristiano.
They started to walk back through town, Cristiano leading the way like a gentleman again.
“What did Vanni whisper to you as we left?” Keira asked him.
“Nothing,” Cristiano replied.
Keira wasn’t certain but she thought she heard a hint of embarrassment in his voice, a certain amount of evasiveness. She entertained the thought that perhaps Vanni had whispered something about her, about her being a good catch, and she smiled at the thought.
“Did you work with Vanni, then?” Keira asked Cristiano as they strolled languidly through the hillside village.
“Yes, many summers ago. We were both in Florence then, my home city. I was back home for the summer from university, and Vanni had chosen to spend his summer there to work and save money. We crossed paths a few times over the years. People who work in tourism often do.”
“You mean like touring the country to work and save money?”
“Exactly,” Cristiano confirmed. “For young people it is a very good way of life. Each summer you find another beautiful city to serve coffee and gelato in. You meet many people that way.”
“And many lovers?” Keira quipped.
Cristiano smirked. “Yes, and that too.”
Keira could see how the whole seasonal relationship concept might come about under such a system. Young people on their downtime from their studies exploring their beautiful country, working in easy, sociable jobs to earn some spare money to fund their degrees. It definitely sounded like a calmer way of living than grinding yourself into the ground spending every summer working internships for free, like Keira and all her friends had done.
