Leading him on? Being in a nightclub? Two good-looking men in my life? Me? This is another story that sounds nothing like me.
“I’m truly sorry! I don’t remember who you are at all,” I say, feeling the need to apologize. “I was in a shooting and I have amnesia. I can’t remember anything about my time here in Italy. Could I just get you a cup of coffee or something?”
His jaw drops. Whoever he is, he must not have known about what happened to me. We must not be that close if one of my good friends hasn’t told him. Right? Even that crazy woman Victoria knew about my condition.
“Now I feel like a jerk even more than I already did. I had no idea.”
His entire face changes from a look of anger to compassion.
“My name is Carlo Romano. I’m Signora Lucca’s doctor. I don’t know if you remember her, but I’m going to guess she still comes here daily. She loves you! Signora Lucca set us up on a date before—we went out to dinner—and then recently we saw each other again in Milan.”
“When I was leading you on and you were rude to me?”
He laughs at my sarcasm. “I definitely put my foot in my mouth, as you Americans say, since walking into this caffé. Yes, I was rude to you and I’m sorry. Let’s put this behind us.”
I start pouring a regular black coffee into a takeout cup even though he hasn’t placed an order. Hopefully he’ll take the hint to leave. I don’t want to meet any more people from the past I don’t remember.
“Well turns out you’re in luck. I have to put everything behind me because I can’t remember.”
I hand him his coffee and realize there’s now a line forming behind Carlo—he notices too.
“I’d like to talk to you about what happened to cause your amnesia. I’m concerned for your health,” he says as he hands me a business card.
“You can have Signora Lucca fill you in—she knows the whole story!”
He takes my blow off in stride and says ciao, ciao so I can take care of my waiting customers. About 20 minutes later, Marco comes to relieve me from my shift. I toss my green apron into the back room, grab my gym bag, and head over to Brian’s table. I know he witnessed the whole ordeal with the doctor, but he doesn’t push me for details—which I appreciate.
“Let’s blow this popsicle joint,” I say, as we leave the caffé for our sweaty destination.
At the gym I can’t stop thinking about that doctor. I’m going to have to ask Signora Lucca about him to see what she knows. She comes into the caffé every day—I wonder why she hasn’t brought his name up? Maybe she knows he was disrespectful to me and doesn’t want to relive that with me?
I also can’t help wondering why I went on a date with another man since being in Italy. I thought I met Leo right when I got here. Did I cheat on him? Oh my god. If I did then I am the biggest hypocrite.
“Earth to Elena, this is Earth paging Elena,” Brian says, waving his hand in front of my face. Great, I must have spaced out. I already gave Brian a tour of the gym and now we are on the Stairmasters working up a sweat.
“I’m so sorry. I’m being a terrible gym buddy,” I say, looking over towards my friend. His face covered in sweat, and he’s holding on to his machine for dear life.
“Are you not used to cardio?” I ask, laughing.
“You could say I’m more of a weightlifting type of guy,” Brian says between gasps of air.
Before he passes out, I hop off my machine.
“Alright big guy, let’s go lift weights then!”
“A girl who lifts weights? It’s like you’ve been sent down from heaven,” Brian says.
I see the relief in his eyes. We wipe down our equipment and then he playfully swats my ass with his towel as we head towards the weight room. Just then I spot Alessandra who gives me a look of utter confusion—she must have witnessed the ass smack with a random guy. She is about to walk into a group exercise class and I tell Brian I’ll catch up with him in just a minute.
“Alessandra!” I shout, rushing over to her.
“Elena! Where have you been? Let’s go, we are going to be late for class,” my beautiful blond friend says as she gets the microphone pack adjusted on her belt.
“I can’t take your class today, I’m sorry. I have a friend I’m showing the gym to,” I say, nodding in the direction of Brian, “but I did want to ask you a quick question if that’s okay?”
“Shoot,” she says, still eyeing Brian.
“I know that you, Sophie, and I went to Milan together. Do you remember anything about a doctor being there? Or going to a nightclub?”
“Si, that doctor you went on a date with from your caffé was there for some conference or something. You went off with him in the club that night and came back pissed. Sophie said she saw him trying to get too touchy with you but you fought him off. Good girl.”
“I fought off a man in a nightclub? This doesn’t sound like me at all.” I’m even more confused. “Tell me, when I went on date with him, was I seeing Leo?”
“I don’t think so. Leo had just pulled that model bullshit and you blew him off. You went on that date probably to clear your head.”
A rush of relief flows through my heart! I’m not a cheater. #ThankGod
“Alright bella, my class is waiting! You better get your skinny ass in here one day soon.” She gives me a double-cheek kiss and heads into the room.
Brian and I finish our workouts, with me back in the game now that my head isn’t in the clouds. I put Brian through a pretty intense weightlifting routine—he had no idea that I used to be a personal trainer. I can’t wait to hear him cry about how sore he is tomorrow!
Knock, knock, knock.
Oh good God! What time is it? A quick glance at my alarm clock lets me know it’s only 7 a.m.! Who the hell is pounding on my door this early on my day off? This is straight up #mean.
The knocking gets louder and louder.
“I’m coming. This better be good!” I shout and swing the door open to end up face-to-face with Brian.
“Well good morning to you too sunshine!” Brian greets me with a huge smile, holding up a brown bag. “I come bearing gifts. I brought bagels.”
“You should have led with the bagels—always lead with the food,” I say, letting him into my apartment.
He sits on the stool next to the island in the kitchen while I put on a pot of coffee. When I turn around, I realize Brian’s checking me out—staring intently at my bare legs. I’m wearing the shortest shorts and a sheer tank top, not even a bra. I think my face must be fifty shades of red right now. I dart to my bedroom before Brian can catch a glimpse of anything else, and I throw on a bra and a hoodie for good measure.
“I promise I don’t welcome all my neighbors to the building with a peep show like that!” I say, trying to break the ice when I walk back into the kitchen. Brian is now eating an everything bagel, and I notice a plain one on a plate waiting for me. That was sweet.
“I think most of our neighbors are senior citizens. You’d definitely give Signor Moretti down the hall a heart attack if he saw those gorgeous legs! But I can’t say that I mind the peep show welcome one bit,” Brian laughs as he takes the coffee I’m handing him.
“I was wondering if you wanted to explore Rome with me today?” He says the words quickly, looking down at his bagel the entire time. Is he nervous? We just hung out yesterday. Is this different? Maybe it’s a date?
I know I should be excited to hang out with people who didn’t know me before the shooting, so I accept his offer with excitement. However, I find myself fighting a nagging voice in my head reminding me of a handsome Italian man who was pleading for my attention at poetry night. But that doesn’t mean I should ignore my perfectly nice handsome neighbor.
“Perfecto! Wait … is that Spanish?” Brian jokes getting up from the bar stool and tossing out the rest of his bagel.
“Si, that was espanol mi amigo. In Italian, it’s perfetto. We are going to have to work on your Italian if you don’t want to stick
out like a sore thumb here. These Italians will eat you alive!”
Brian and I agree that we’ll meet in the hallway between our apartments in an hour. I rush to pull together a cute outfit to wear for my sightseeing date. Is this a date? I don’t even know. Screw it; let’s just get ready.
7
Jumping on a crammed bus with a bunch of fellow tourists, we head straight to the Vatican City. The warm summer weather brings people from all over the world to the Eternal City. iPhones and selfie sticks (yes that’s a real thing) are out, ready to capture the historical country. Yes, the Vatican is its own country. #Fact
When the bus stops, we file out into a packed crowd waiting in St. Peter’s Square. I notice a young blond woman gathering a group together outside the Musei Vaticani—or Vatican Museums—and ask her if we still have time to join her tour. She welcomes us and says her name is Melanie, and she’s from South Carolina. Turns out she has her master’s degree in art and found herself here in Italy after graduating, never looking back! Now that sounds like fun and much more responsible than leaving behind your million-dollar company. This reminds me to send Sophie a ‘thank you’ gift for keeping things afloat back in Detroit. I don’t know what I’d do without my best friend.
Brian and I stick together during Melanie’s tour, listening to all the facts about Renaissance art. Miles of art, sculptures, and tapestry sit inside the Vatican Museums.
However, I can’t help but notice something in the rooms featuring Greek and Roman statutes: the male penises. Fig leaves cover them and some are just broken off. Melanie says that during a certain time period hundreds of years ago the naked body was looked at as “dirty” or “damaged” and the statutes were covered up. Poor dudes!
The thought of seeing a certain Italian man’s cock comes to mind. I instantly blush and feel like everyone in this room must know my dirty thought about Leo. Why are you thinking of him right now?
I look over at Brian who is standing awfully close to me. I’m not sure if it’s because we are packed in here like sardines or he just wants to be near me. I get my answer though, when he holds my hand. I don’t want to make the rest of the day awkward so I leave my hand in his.
It doesn’t feel too bad placed in mine.
After a few more rooms, we are all shuffled into the Sistine Chapel. My eyes instantly dart to the infamous ceiling; I let out a small gasp in disbelief as I walk into the room backwards with my head towards the sky. My eyes can’t take in the whole sight at once, but I don’t want to miss anything. Michelangelo’s The Last Judgment and Creation of Adam are breathtaking. I crane my neck to see it all!
When we walk out of the chapel our tour ends. We tip Melanie because she was absolutely fabulous! And I let her know about Stella’s Caffé—telling her if she ever stops in, she’s got an espresso on the house waiting for her.
Now that our big group splits up, I notice the silence between Brian and me and that my hand is still warmly placed in his.
I self-consciously look at my travel companion and say, “Where to next?”
“I’m thinking … gelato?”
“I’m thinking you just said my favorite Italian word. Andiamo!”
On our way out of the hectic Vatican City we head towards the Spanish Steps to make a quick pit stop before our gelato, jumping into the ship-like Barcaccia Fountain. I climb inside, standing on the step designed for cupping your hands under the stream, and take a big sip of water. Refreshing.
Now finally, gelato! A few side streets over we find a gelato bar. Placing our orders at the counter inside, we then bring our delicious desserts outside to sit on the Spanish Steps. As the day warms up, I’m thankful that I put sunscreen on this morning! I would be burned to a crisp by now. #PaleGirlProblems
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” I say as I lick my mouthwatering hazelnut gelato.
“This is the best ice cream I’ve ever had!” Brian agrees. We sit together finishing our gelato and chat about what life is like living in Rome. He tells me a little more about his photography work and what he’s looking forward to seeing in the country.
“And what about guys? Have you seen anyone since coming to Italy?” Brian takes the conversation into a zone I’m not too comfortable talking about just yet.
“Nothing serious,” I say trying to blow off the question. I know it’s technically a lie but what I don’t remember shouldn’t be held against me.
“Well that makes me feel better. Now I know I can safely do this,” Brian says as he leans in and gently kisses me. His lips feel soft and nice across my own. It’s nothing like Zack’s kisses, the only kisses I can remember, as he was super sloppy. Too much tongue. #Ew
We pull apart, and to avoid any further questions about my romantic life, I get up to throw our napkins in the nearby trashcan when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A chill runs down my body, even though it’s a blistering hot day. I’m suddenly very aware of my emotions, feeling like something is wrong.
I scan the area but I don’t see anything or anyone that looks out of place—just tourists going about their day, taking pictures, and talking quickly in a million different languages. But I swear I’m being watched. I just know it. Could this be what the doctor described as a Post Traumatic Stress Disorder moment? I know the doctor told me that I could experience PTSD with what happened to me, but I clearly ignored his warnings.
“Hey! Are you okay, Elena? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Brian says, coming up behind me and placing his hand on my shoulder.
“Yes, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I felt like I was being watched.”
I’ve been able to avoid telling him about the shooting, but now that it’s made me look crazy, I have to explain. So I give him a quick recap, and he looks at me in utter shock.
“I can’t believe you went through all that and you’re going out-and-about right now in giant crowds. I give you so much credit for being this brave.”
“Brave? I don’t feel brave. Actually, I feel very dumb because I didn’t even think about my safety in crowds until right now.”
Wow, how could I be so careless? This isn’t like me.
“If you want to head back home, I completely understand. I don’t want you to feel unsafe,” Brian says. I see him take a look as his grip on my shoulder gets a little tighter.
On the walk back to our apartment building, I say a few words along the way but I have to be honest, my thoughts keep replaying the scared feeling from the Spanish Steps. Brian walks with his arm draped around my shoulder the whole way. I’m so thankful that he’s here right now—I desperately need a friend.
As we start to walk into our building, I see a black town car parked across the street.
“Elena.”
I squint to see Leo’s driver, Mateo, standing outside the car. I haven’t heard from Leo since the poetry night, when I told him we couldn’t be together anymore and then blew him off hiding behind my work.
“Do you know that man?” Brian asks.
“Yes, it’s okay, Brian. I’ll just run over to chat with him real quick. Thank you so much for such a fun day—from the bagel to the gelato!”
He leans in and plants a quick kiss on my cheek.
“I had fun too!” he says before leaving me standing on the steps outside the building.
I walk over to Mateo, who saw the cheek kiss. I feel guilty, as he has no idea about the earlier lip lock. Why do I feel guilty? I’m a single girl.
“Ciao Mateo, come esta?”
“Elena, are you okay?” His words always come out so powerful, but his voice is so quiet I need to stand close to hear him.
“Yes I’m fine,” I say, not making eye contact. I’m not okay; I just freaked out in a public place in front of my new friend. I may not remember anything about Italy, but I do remember what fear feels like.
“Elena, I don’t want to alarm you, but Leo got a threatening note in the mail to his personal house. The letter did mention you as well. Leo wants me to
be your personal bodyguard until this crazy person is caught and behind bars. I saw you at the piazza today. What happened?”
I feel like I’m hit by a brick. A threatening letter that includes my name … to Leo’s house … a personal bodyguard … seeing my freak out. Wait a second.
“Have you been following me Mateo?” This time I lock eyes with the salt-and-pepper-haired man. I can tell I just caught him in what could have been a lie, but he’s lucky his sunglasses hide his full expression.
“I may have been.”
“For how long? Be honest.”
“Since you left the hospital.”
“What?!”
“And did you know I was there?”
Oh my god. No, I didn’t know he was there. Today isn’t the first time I’ve been followed. I instantly feel my gelato making its way back up, and I rush over to a trashcan and throw up. I am not safe here. Should I go home? No, danger lurks everywhere. And Leo is not back home. Whoa, whoa, calm down crazy inner voice, where did that come from?
“Mateo, I see your point. As much as it makes me feel uncomfortable to have a personal bodyguard, I’ll accept your help.”
“Grazie, Signor Forte wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Still standing on the sidewalk, I launch into the explanation of what happened at the Spanish Steps. I have no concrete details, just a feeling. I probably sound insane, but Mateo reassures me that I’m not. He says I should trust my intuition, making me feel a little better.
He explains to me what he’s been doing in his routine to ‘watch over’ me (as he called it) and we set up something more official. He also gives me his phone number so I can contact him if I feel scared or unsafe.
I don’t normally accept help, especially from bossy men like Leo, but it touches my heart that he cares about my safety. Even after I said all that stuff in the coffee shop to push him away, he still cares, and I care that he cares.
Okay, maybe I am insane.
8
Leonardo
Incoming email: [email protected]
Fighting For Mr. Beautiful: Eternal City Love, Book 2 Page 5
