Love Like That

by Sophie Love

  Keira read over her words, feeling more lackluster about them than even yesterday. She’d lost her muse, her inspiration, and it was showing in her writing. And she was still holding back, still too wary to really let herself be present in the piece. She was disappointing herself.

  Worse, the museum was packed with happy couples, laughing with one another, gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes.

  It was just too painful for Keira to sit here with them all streaming past her, so she snapped her notebook shut with a huff and left the museum, ambling this time down the shopping streets.

  She wandered into the leather market, walking past all the stalls filled with brightly colored leather goods. There was everything from hats, boots, and bags, to jackets, belts, and wallets, in every conceivable color. The smell of fresh leather filled her nostrils as she wandered aimlessly. It was by all accounts a wonderful market filled with beautiful designed and crafted items. Had she been in a happier place she’d have adored walking the stalls, purchasing some beautiful leather goods. But she was too sad and she didn’t have much money on her, just a few crumpled notes that had survived the dunk in the canal. She wanted to keep what little money she had left for emergencies. Besides, if she was going to buy anything, it ought to be a pair of sandals to replace Bryn’s now lost ones.

  It was very busy in Florence. The square was decorated with thousands upon thousands of white chrysanthemums, the flower of mourning in Italy. It was stunningly beautiful, like a blanket of snow, though it was tinged with melancholy.

  Keira found herself desperate for some solitude, some space from the crowds and couples. So she took a detour off the beaten path and spent the day ambling through all the pretty parks and hillside walking routes that weren’t as well advertised to tourists.

  The space helped her get her thoughts aligned, of Cristiano—who had continued to call her and leave voicemails she ignored—and of Shane—who had sent one more text message asking why she hadn’t replied before giving up. Everything was such a mess and Keira didn’t know what to do with herself. It seemed impossible to her to carry on with her work. She wasn’t strong enough to be the Romance Guru, to bare her soul for all her readers. She let herself fall too hard, got hurt too easily. Her heart was as soft as a peach, and bruised as readily as one. She was too guarded to let the whole world see her weaknesses and failures.

  As the sun began to set, turning the sky orange and pink above her, Keira finally made her decision. It was over.

  She paused to get her phone from her purse. It was then that she discovered where she’d wandered during her ruminations.

  She was standing on Florence’s Bridge of Gold, the place where couples congregated to put a padlock on the bridge in a symbol of their everlasting love, to buy rings from the myriad of jewelry stores located there and propose to their beloved.

  Keira stopped reaching for her phone and instead watched the scene before her, quietly, contemplatively. She noticed a young couple hurriedly writing their names on a padlock in thick sharpie, then hurrying to lock it on the bridge before the security guards noticed. They succeeded and giggled, rushing away together with heady abandon. They were the epitome of love, Keira thought, reckless, giddy, a team of two, impervious to the outside world.

  She yearned for that feeling again. She’d had it with Shane, even though very briefly. With Cristiano it was completely different; she had no idea how deep things could have gone with him if it hadn’t been for his surprise girlfriend showing up. She didn’t think there was love on the cards for them—at least not her definition of it, her American version of it—but something unique, wonderful, and beautiful might have developed there if it hadn’t been ruined.

  Just then, a young man walking hand in hand with his girlfriend got down on one knee. Keira watched the girlfriend’s face as it burst into surprise, shock, and elation. Keira herself felt a confused mixture of happiness for the girl, alongside her own feelings of being crushed. It was the same way she’d felt when she’d found out about Shelby and David’s engagement; wanting at once to be happy for her friend but unable to stop the sting of pain it caused in her, the amplification of her loneliness.

  As the girlfriend nodded yes, her eyes glittering with tears, Keira took her phone out of her purse and composed the email to Elliot she’d been dreading and delaying.

  Elliot,

  I think you know what this message is going to say. I feel terrible for letting you down, and Viatorum, which has become like my second family. The opportunities you’ve given me have been incredible. But if my niche at the magazine is to write about romance then I can no longer write for you. My own love life is in shambles. I have twice lost relationships and I’m just not strong enough to tell the whole world about it. I’m sorry.

  Keira.

  Her thumb hovered over the send button. But before she had a chance to press it, a sound from behind caught her attention. It sounded like her name being called.

  Keira assumed it was just wishful thinking on her part, but turned nonetheless, squinting down the length of the bridge. And there she saw, with surprise, a figure running toward her.

  “Keira!”

  She clutched her gaping mouth in shock and disbelief. There was no mistaking who the figure was.

  Cristiano.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Keira stared at the approaching figure, her mind too shocked to do anything.

  How? How had he found her?

  Overwhelmed, Keira finally snapped to attention. She turned and began to run. She didn’t want to see him, not now, and especially not in such a strange, sudden, and unexpected way. She was too embarrassed by everything that had transpired.

  Cristiano, however, was a much faster runner than Keira. She heard his footsteps behind, growing louder, getting closer. He caught up to her, grabbing her by the elbow, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Keira,” he said, panting, crouching forward to catch his breath. “Don’t run.”

  “How did you find me?” she stammered, not knowing where to look, her eyes darting all over the place.

  Cristiano shook his head, too breathless to speak. “I live here, remember? I came back for All Souls’ day to see my family.”

  So it was a coincidence. Keira had realized Florence was small, but this small?

  She didn’t believe it was just by accident that they’d both be on the Bridge of Gold. For her, a tourist, it made sense. But he had no reason to be here. She looked about her, half expecting to see the woman from the canal in Venice (sporting a sparkling ring on her finger from Cristiano’s recent proposal) to come sauntering over with that smug expression on her face, the one that had knocked Keira off the gondola back in Venice.

  “Where is she?” Keira demanded. “Your girlfriend?”

  Cristiano shook his head. “My what?”

  “That woman,” Keira said, still searching through the crowds, expecting to catch a glimpse of her beautiful, haughty face.

  “That was not my girlfriend,” Cristiano said, shaking his head. “That was Maria!” He looked sad and ashamed.

  Keira frowned, her mind racing with the new information. “Maria? Your ex?”

  “Yes,” he implored her. “I told you Venice was her home city, that we were going to buy our house there together. Do you remember?”

  “But she looked at me like I was dirt, like I was the other woman.”

  Cristiano shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it, Keira. She was obviously jealous when she saw us together.”

  “But she cheated on you,” Keira contested. It wasn’t adding up in her mind.

  “Just because she did not want me doesn’t mean she wants anyone else to have me. Or for me be happy. In fact, Maria would probably prefer me to be miserable for the rest of my life.”

  “That’s awful,” Keira replied. She felt bad for Cristiano, but her guard was still up. Too much had happened between them for her to so quickly and readily trust what he was telling her. Besides,
she was certain that their meeting on the bridge was nothing more than a coincidence. “Anyway,” she added with a dismissive shrug, “I’m leaving soon. I guess we should say goodbye now.”

  To her surprise, Cristiano looked horrified.

  “Leaving? Why?” he asked, “Didn’t you come here to the Bridge of Gold to find me? To carry on with the itinerary?”

  Keira frowned then. Suddenly it dawned on her that this was the exact time and location that the day planned with Cristiano was supposed to end. She’d absent-mindedly followed the route of the tour. So it had only been a coincidence on her part that they’d met here. But for Cristiano, had he been hoping to find her here?

  “Were you waiting here for me?” she asked, not fully believing it herself.

  “Yes,” Cristiano said, firmly. “I lied about only being here to see my family. You would not answer my calls. And we were getting close, I did not want to lose you. Then suddenly you fall out of the gondola, leave your suitcase, and disappear! You didn’t arrive at the hotel. I was terrified!”

  Keira felt the heat rise into her cheeks. She’d been guarded this whole time, resisting Cristiano, ignoring what he was trying to tell her: there was no other woman. No wife. No girlfriend.

  But she’d been almost hell bent on inventing this phantom other woman. Had she subconsciously wanted things to fail with Cristiano? To protect her heart? Because she didn’t want to let herself fall in love again? Just like with her article, she’d been holding back, avoiding the truth.

  Her heart started to hammer as it dawned on her what was happening. Cristiano wanted her. The real question was, was Keira brave enough to let herself want him back?

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, quietly. “Maria turning up like that just made things clear for me.”

  “What things?” Cristiano challenged.

  Keira tried to shrug off her discomfort at being put on the spot like that. “That I’m too easily bruised by crushes. By romance. I can’t let my heart be messed with so often.”

  Cristiano reached forward then, grabbing her hands, and spoke in an imploring tone. “I am not messing with you.”

  Keira tried to tug her hands away. “Maybe not you, but I have a history filled with heartache. I have a past I haven’t had the chance to deal with.”

  “Keira,” Cristiano said in the same firm but caring tone. “Are you going to spend your life thinking of the past? Or are you going to take the opportunities that life has presented you with? I am here, baring my soul to you, on the Golden Bridge of Florence, of all places, under a sunset.”

  His speech reminded her of what her mom had said on the phone, that she should embrace the experiences fate was giving her.

  “But it might all go wrong,” Keira replied, sounding like a lost, hurt little girl.

  Cristiano shrugged. “It might. There are no guarantees in life. The sun might not rise tomorrow. The moon might one day float away into space. We cannot know. So why not experience what we have got while we can?”

  Keira looked into his dark eyes, the thick black lashes that framed them, his model’s face with defined cheekbones and designer stubble. Bryn would never turn down a chance to be with a gorgeous man like Cristiano.

  “Please,” he added, giving her hands a little shake. “Keira, let me kiss you. I have been waiting to for so long.”

  “I fell off the gondola,” she whispered, her last desperate attempt to remind him of how unworthy she was of his affection.

  “My clumsy Keira,” he said. “My beautiful Keira.”

  She realized suddenly how foolish her behavior had been. Resisting Cristiano was ridiculous. Guarding herself from love was impossible. She had to take the plunge, to accept the experiences fate wanted her to have, to listen to the lessons of the Universe.

  So, as he leaned forward and placed his lips tenderly onto hers, Keira didn’t pull back, didn’t fight it. In fact, her body gave in willingly to the sensation. It felt like it had been a long time coming, completely natural, completely right. She’d been unconsciously sabotaging this moment from happening ever since she’d first set eyes on Cristiano, but finally it was here. And it was magical.

  Suddenly, Keira became aware of the sound of clapping and cheering around them. She pulled back, blushing, and realized the crowd around them must have assumed they’d just gotten engaged. Keira’s instinct was to feel embarrassed, but Cristiano basked in the moment, in the ludicrousness of it.

  He gave a little bow and exclaimed, “She said yes!” He tugged Keira’s hand into the air in triumph.

  Just like she’d done with the kiss itself, Keira stopped fighting the moment. She let herself play the role, and reveled in it.

  Cristiano slung his arm around her and walked her slowly to the end of the bridge.

  “I know this is moving very fast,” he said, then jokingly added, “what with us being engaged now and everything.”

  Keira laughed and shook her head, amused by the whole thing.

  “But,” Cristiano added, “I’d like for you to meet my parents.”

  Keira laughed harder. Then she looked at him and saw his earnest expression. She frowned.

  “You’re not joking?”

  “I am deadly serious, Keira,” Cristiano replied. “This is my home city. My parents live just the other side of the hill. I want them to meet you, and you them. They’re good people. And they’ve made far too much food for All Souls’ Day.”

  Keira was shocked. She found herself floundering. But she reminded herself to let go, to go with the flow and see where life took her.

  “Okay,” she said, finally, exhaling, giving in. “But I have to do one thing first.”

  She took her phone out of her pocket and deleted the draft email she’d been about to send Elliot. Once it had been erased, disappearing into cyberspace, she went to her text messages and pulled up the thread with Shane, the one she’d left dangling and began to type.

  I’m sorry I didn’t reply before. I think it’s best if we don’t message each other anymore. It’s over. I’m sorry.

  She hit send, her heart clenching momentarily at the enormity of what she’d just done. She’d chosen her future, had shaped her own fate. She’d chosen to write instead of quit, and to be with Cristiano instead of pining for Shane.

  The pain lasted only momentarily and was replaced by a surge of power, a sense of being in control.

  She looked up at Cristiano and smiled. “Let’s go.”

  She was expecting him to lead her in the direction he’d pointed, the hillside his parents’ village was the other side of. But instead, he walked her down a side street and paused beside a Vespa.

  “Wait,” Keira said, surprised. “We’re going on that?”

  Cristiano winked. “Hold on tight, my Keira. I drive fast.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Wind whipped through Keira’s hair as she held on tightly to Cristiano. The countryside outside of Florence was stunning, with beautiful rolling hillsides and farm yards. As they went, Keira saw more of the traditional All Souls’ Day celebrations; red candles burning in the windows of houses, children in the streets throwing confetti at one another, and gorgeous processions of flaming torches, candles, and chrysanthemum bouquets. It was like watching many funerals taking place at once, Keira thought, but with none of the melancholy. Instead, what Keira felt coming from the people they passed was joy of cherished memories.

  As they raced through the Italian countryside the sun fully set upon them, transforming the sky from pink into the swirling milky blue of Van Gogh’s starry night. The stars were more phenomenal here than Keira had ever seen in her life, bright, clear, numerous, like a billion blinking flashlights.

  The Vespa continued up the hills, passing cute stone villas built into the mountainside. The air was so fresh here. For the first time, Keira could really feel fall in the air. Not a New York fall that was chilly and rainy and hinted at the snow to come, but a sleepy Italian fall that was warm, like the embers o
f a dying fire. A farewell to summer.

  Finally, Cristiano slowed his Vespa at the side of the road.

  “We’re here,” he told her.

  Keira looked first at the beautiful house, an ochre-washed villa with a flower-filled yard, just like the houses she’d seen in Positano. Then she looked the other way, turning her head toward the gorgeous, unfathomable view. The lights of Florence twinkled below her, the stars above, and adding to the beautiful display were all the flickering flames of people in graveyards across the city celebrating those they had loved and lost.

  Cristiano helped Keira from the bike and took her in his arms. They stayed that way for a long time, together, basking in the feel of each other’s bodies, the warmth and togetherness.

  “I’m nervous,” Keira confessed.

  “Don’t be,” Cristiano said. “They will love you.”

  He moved her gently out of his arms and pressed the most tender, reassuring kiss upon her lips. Keira’s whole body fluttered from the sensation. Then Cristiano put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a sideways embrace. He walked her through the garden gate and up the stony path. When he reached the front door, Cristiano produced a key and opened it.

  Keira almost squealed aloud at the sight of the interior of Cristiano’s parents’ home. Their style was impeccable.

  The front door led straight into a vast living room, with traditional tiled flooring, two large, crisp white couches facing one another, numerous rugs, and an enormous fireplace that was probably the height of Keira herself. To her left was a large white brick arch that lead to a kitchen that gleamed with cleanliness. Another arch to her right showed a dining room, as clean and bright as the other rooms, with a vaulted glass ceiling and a gorgeous walnut table big enough for a banquet. Straight ahead, the third and final archway led to a corridor that contained a winding staircase leading up—to the bedrooms, Keira presumed—and a glass double doorway that showed glimpses of a stunning courtyard covered in ivy. Keira could see the shadows of dancing flames flickering on the walls. Candelabras lined the terrace, but the dancing shadows must be coming from a bonfire just out of Keira’s line of sight.