by A. Constanza
“I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure he will.”
Ignacio shook his head. “No, he won’t, and neither do I.”
My mind lingered on his words, repeating them and activating the butterflies in my stomach again. Ignacio leaned forward, inches away from my face. My eyes narrowed onto his plush lips, and I could feel the heat rise up my neck and onto my cheeks.
“I think we should play one more song before waking him up. What do you suggest?” His voice was almost a whisper.
“Clair de Lune.”
I watched as his long fingers and masculine hands graced the keys with a combination of delicacy and firmness. The duality of it all took my breath away. The evening sunrays projected down onto his hands, magnifying the veins. Those same hands once dominated me.
My mind wandered to that night in Paris when I rode him, his strong hands grasping my breasts, covering them with ease. They felt small in his hands. Then, I remembered the way his hands slid up my chest and around my neck, his fingers spreading around the nape of my neck, and how he lulled my bare body, until I lay over his, to place a tender kiss on my lips.
And before I knew it, the piece had ended, and I sat in place, feeling sensation cascade between my thighs and hardened nipples, and a soft sigh escaping my lips.
“I hope you enjoyed it,” Ignacio whispered.
“I thoroughly did,” I said, composing myself.
“We plan on making dinner; would you like to join?” he asked casually as he stood up. “Unless you have other plans. I don’t want to pry.”
“No plans tonight—just another Sunday evening.”
“Great,” he said, the corner of his lips tugging upward.
***
Emile appeared behind me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You cooked; I will clean,” he said, releasing me of my duties.
“If you say so,” I said, wiping my hands dry on a hand towel.
“That was the best baked chicken parmesan I’ve had,” Emile said.
“Better than Nonna’s?” Ignacio asked casually.
“Oh no, I’m sure that’s not true,” I said, panicked. Did he really want to offend his late grandmother’s cooking in front of her husband?
“Don’t worry, Estella, he is right. Angelica loved to cook, but her chicken would come out incredibly dry.”
“You’d need a gallon of water to wash it down,” Ignacio joked.
“And a laxative to push it out.” Emile snorted.
The two men laughed, filling the room with genuine happiness. They had a near-identical smile, and even their tones matched perfectly. They had light golden-brown eyes, oval-shaped heads, and similar facial features. I’d heard of grandchildren resembling their grandparents, but these two were peas from the same pod.
“Well, it’s almost seven and dark out. Ignacio, do you mind dropping Estella off at home?” Emile asked, looking over his shoulder at us as he cleaned the counters.
“Of course,” Ignacio answered in a heartbeat.
“It’s not a problem. I have the Vespa.”
“Nonsense. It’s too long of a ride at this time, especially since we are more in the countryside.” Emile’s tone sounded fatherly and didn’t seem like an offer but a demand. A generous one.
I exhaled and rubbed my arm. “Alright,” I complied. I wasn’t sure how I would survive a car ride with Ignacio, considering that I had fantasied about him while he played on the piano and occasionally during dinner.
Ignacio reached his arm out and opened his hand. “You’ll have your Vespa by tomorrow morning.”
I twisted off the Vespa key and handed it over to him. “By 8 a.m., please. That’s the time Salem and I head out to work.”
“It’ll be there,” he said. “Are you ready to head out?”
“If you are.”
Ignacio lifted himself off the chair, and I moved to follow him out. I walked over to Emile to give him a pat on the back as a farewell.
“I will see you two on Tuesday,” he said, smiling at both of us.
“But I—”
“Goodnight, Nonno,” Ignacio said, opening the front door for me and not allowing me to finish my sentence.
The autumn wind danced around the bare skin on my arms, making me shiver. We were one day away from October, and it already felt like we were hitting the low 50s. I wouldn’t have been able to bear the chills of the night had I ridden my Vespa. Emile’s suggestion was a blessing in disguise, but I worried about being in close proximity to Ignacio, especially alone.
Ignacio opened the passenger door for me and waited for me to slip in to close the door. He appeared in the driver’s seat and started the car, immediately turning on the heat and seat warmers.
We began cruising down the road, and Ignacio fiddled around with his radio, searching for a specific station. He sighed in relief at the sound of piano and violins playing. The instrumental piece had a wistfully romantic harmony to it.
We didn’t speak, and I did my best to keep my eyes averted from him. I couldn’t look at him, especially in this state of mind. I had to focus to push the images of me straddling him, his hard chest, and his smoldering expression, out of my head every time I caught a whiff of his tantalizing scent.
God, I need a distraction.
The car jolted downward, and Ignacio made a sudden jerk to the side, parking on the grassy terrain. I placed my hand over my chest and looked out all the windows to see what caused him to make an unexpected stop. There was nothing. The country roads were bare; there were no people or animals nearby.
“Shit, shit,” Ignacio mumbled as he unbuckled his seatbelt, exiting the car and standing on the left corner of the driver’s side.
I scrabbled out of the car to see what had concerned Ignacio. His arms were crossed over his chest, looking as deflated as the tire.
“Oh, yikes,” I mumbled.
It wasn’t the type of distraction that I wanted, considering it prolonged my time with Ignacio.
“Every time I ride back from my Nonno’s house, I remind myself that there is a pothole, but I wasn’t thinking this time.” Ignacio rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt and motioned to the back of the trunk. He opened it, and it was completely bare except for a gym bag. He lifted up a thick mat and retrieved the spare tire, rolling it back to the front of the car.
I stared at the organized compartment, unsure of what I was looking at. I had never changed a tire before; I never had a car of my own in Brooklyn. There was no need for it, and now, I wished I’d had that experience, so I could feel somewhat confident about this new situation.
Ignacio walked in front of me and grabbed a long, red tool—a jack, I supposed. He went back to his workstation and took a brief glance over his shoulder, then groaned deeply.
“It’s going to get dark soon,” he mumbled.
“Let me help,” I said, lowering myself down next to Ignacio. “I’ve never done this before, so I hope I don’t mess anything up.”
Ignacio nodded and instructed me on how to help him. We assembled the jack, pumped the jack, unscrewed lug nuts, and we scrambled to not lose them. It had become too dark to see and I used my phone as a flashlight when Ignacio had to pull off the flattened tire.
“Careful, careful,” I whispered, watching Ignacio lift the spare tire and place it in its rightful spot.
Ignacio exhaled deeply; it sounded as if he had been holding his breath during the entire process. He worked feverishly in reverse, tightening the tire on, lowering the car, lunging the old tire and all his tools into the trunk.
He walked back, standing next to me, checking the tire out before we headed out.
“Not bad,” I said, admiring our work and then looking at my messy hands.
“I’ll give you some water to clean your hands,” he said, opening his driver door and retrieving a bottled water.
I placed our phones on the top of his car and rubbed my hands together as he
poured a steady stream into my palms. I couldn’t tell if it got all the black residue off my hands because of the lack of light. I could only see the shadows of his face. I extended the same courtesy and fumbled with the bottle, then poured water into his hands.
I went to hand the bottle back to Ignacio, and our fingers brushed against each other. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks, and I was glad that it was too dark for him to see the reaction he caused.
“Alright, let’s get in the car,” Ignacio urged. “It’s too dark, and I feel like we are being watched.”
“It’s not so bad.” I walked around the front of the car and slid back into my seat.
Ignacio’s car door closed after mine, and we settled into our seats, returning to the deafening silence for the rest of the car ride. I fiddled around with my fingers, still feeling his hot touch against my skin.
God, I’m so weak.
“That’s me,” I said, pointing to the cottage closest to the water.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said, parking the car and unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Oh, you don’t…” He opened his door and closed it again. “…Have to,” I finished with a sigh.
Ignacio placed his hands into his pockets as he walked to the edge of the water. “Wow,” he said, looking across the body of water and to the brightly lit city of Castel Nuovo. “We live across from each other.”
“What?” I asked, surprised. “Which one is yours?”
“The one that is all lit up but only one room. It’s my yellow villa—looks nicer in the day.”
“Why leave all the lights on when you’re not home?”
“They’re off during the day, and I get my housekeeper to turn all the lights on before she leaves.”
“But why?”
Ignacio bounced on his heels and looked in my direction. I couldn’t read his face in the dark, but I could tell he was hesitant. “It’s an odd thing,” he brushed off.
“What is it?”
“I’m not too comfortable in the dark.”
“So, you’re afraid?”
“Not afraid, just uneasy.”
“I didn’t expect that,” I said. “I see why you were in a hurry to change your tire and jump back in the car, but your secret is safe with me.”
Ignacio chuckled and started walking away from the water and toward the cottage. We stood near the lit lantern by the door. It didn’t provide a whole lot of light, but it was enough to see that Ignacio was staring at me.
There was an internal war between wanting to wrap my arms around him and feel his body against mine and also pushing him far away, miles away from me. I peered at him slowly, and I nearly forgot how to breathe when I gazed into his fiery eyes.
Ignacio’s finger traced the outline of my face, and his eyes studied me, and I studied him back. I wasn’t sure what he was reading because my mind was in a frenzy, but his face said everything he wanted. He wanted to know if there was a chance.
Ignacio set my insides ablaze, and as much as I feared the burn, I couldn’t resist the flames. I closed my eyes tighter, trying to snap myself back to reality. I opened my eyes, and his mouth was less than half an inch away from my lips. His breath brushed against my skin, and I could’ve pulled away, but I found myself closing the space between our lips.
Ignacio traced the outline of my back until he hit the base of my neck, deepening the kiss. I splayed my fingers through his hair and pulled him into me. His hands glided down my sides and down to my waist. He gripped me tighter against him. His touch felt heavenly, and I couldn’t help but to moan into his mouth.
God, I couldn’t believe I was kissing him.
The realization that I had done something emotionally risky jolted me back to reality. I instantly placed my fingers against my lips and gasped. I closed my eyes, regretting that I had allowed myself to become vulnerable. I opened them and grabbed my keys, unlocking the door with unbelievable speed.
I closed the door halfway and darted my gaze toward him. He looked confused, hurt, and desperate.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Buonanotte.” Goodnight.
I pressed my back against the door, placing my hands over my mouth in disbelief. It was amazing, and then it wasn’t. It was freeing, and then it wasn’t. It was hopeful, and then it wasn’t.
I can’t let myself kiss him again.
SEVENTEEN
Ignacio
I couldn’t keep Estella out of my mind. I thought of her in the day and dreamt of her at night. Estella. Estella. Estella.
We kissed, and we were in heaven, then we came crashing down.
The way she looked at me…it killed me. After she had realized that we kissed, her eyes immediately pooled over with regret. I didn’t want her to regret kissing. I wanted her to ache for more.
I could hear Nonno talk endlessly about his plan to surprise Norah for her birthday, tomorrow. It was an important time for him, but I didn’t feel right hearing about it when I was trying to figure out what to do about Estella. It was driving me crazy.
“Should we go?” Nonno asked.
“Go where?”
Nonno glared at me and slapped one of his leather notebooks against my arm. “To Salem’s café. She wanted to go over my ideas; she’s helping me with the surprise.”
Estella.
“Of course.”
Estella.
“Let’s head there.”
Estella.
Every move I made since I’d sat in the driver’s seat and arrived in the café was complete muscle memory. I couldn’t remember a single moment or conversation I had in the car because I couldn’t keep my mind off Estella. I thought about how we would look at each other; I thought what I would say to her; I thought about every possible minute.
I felt panic wading in and out. Estella wasn’t running the front; instead, she was seated across from a male figure. I attempted to keep my composure as we walked past the pair. The thought of her being with another man physically ached me. I wanted her to want me.
He looked around Estella’s age with scruff on his jawline and light-colored hair. I’d seen him before but couldn’t put a finger on where. He spoke to Estella, she said something in return, and then he gave her a polite laugh that made her smile. It was the prettiest smile that I had seen, and I hated that he made her smile.
Nonno and I leaned against the vacant wooden counter. Nonno looked over the counter, and through the window that overlooked the kitchen, in search of Salem. One minute later, and there was still no trance of Salem. Nonno pressed the bell that they had on the counter to signal a new customer.
Estella turned in our direction. She acknowledged me for a microsecond and then looked at Emile. “Salem should be back soon. Take a seat anywhere you’d like.”
Emile walked over to a table in the corner of the café. We were a table away from the pair but still close enough to overhear their conversation.
“You’re outstanding,” he said. “You’ve picked up the language easily.”
“It’s similar to Spanish. Trust me, I’d be more of a mess if I didn’t already have some base.”
“Never a mess,” he said, his finger grazing her hand.
She retreated her hand slightly, tugging the sleeve of her cardigan over her hand. She pushed a strand of hair over her ear and looked away in uncertainty. He softly smiled at her and collected all of his material before talking to her again.
“So, when should we practice again?” he asked.
“Saturday?”
“That works!”
“Great.” She smiled, and they both nodded at each other before parting ways.
Estella extended her hands over the table and lowered her head, seeming to gather the courage for her next move. She perked up and turned to us with a friendly smile.
“I’ll get you two a cup of coffee while you wait for Salem,” she said, then lifted off the seat and dashed into the kitchen.
Estella returned with a tray carrying two cups of coffee, some creamer, and a plate of small cookies. She placed the mugs in front of us with a timid smile. It was that moment that clarified why I tolerated coffee despite not enjoying it. It created bonds between people even when everything was a little hostile.
“On the house, of course.”
“You’re too good to us,” Nonno said. “Take a seat by us.”
“Oh no, it’s okay. I should maintain the kitchen.” Her eyes were glued on Nonno; she didn’t dare look at me even though her body faced my direction.
The bell above the door jingled, informing everyone that another guest had entered the building. Salem walked over to us and gave Nonno a pat on the back.
“I’m sorry for being late, but there were some complications with deliveries.”
“It’s okay, Estella spoiled us.”
Salem gave Estella an appreciative nod.
“Should we start to plan?” Nonno asked.
“Plan what?” Estella asked nervously.
“Nonna’s birthday! It’s tomorrow,” Salem said.
Estella placed a hand over her forehead. “Ah, okay.”
“We’re going to close the café early, and then we are all going to take her out.”
Estella tried not to react, but I noticed the panic in her eyes while Salem and Nonno were hovering over the phone screen. I wanted to reach out, touch her, and reassure her that everything would be okay, but she wouldn’t even glance at me. I knew that I was the last person she wanted to see, but she was the only person I wanted to see.
Estella and I didn’t contribute much to the conversation. Salem and Nonno would ask for our opinions, and we would blatantly agree with them, then as time went on, they stopped asking us for our input.
An hour later, Nonno and Salem had devised a plan.
“We’ll see you girls tomorrow,” Nonno said, giving them a half hug.
I kept my eyes locked on Estella until she looked straight at me. Her gaze flickered toward my lips, and I caught her cheeks reddening before she turned her back to me.
It looks like we’ve infiltrated each other’s minds.
