Jolene almost chokes on her wine. “Oh my goodness … you don’t have to ask Zack those questions.”
I place my hand over Jolene’s and lightly pat it, letting her know it’s okay. As Nonna pours my wine, I look up at her, and with the most serious of expressions, I assure her, “Yes, I will provide for Jolene.”
As Nonna settles back in her chair, Jolene’s hand relaxes under mine. I turn to her, and she’s inhaling deeply, glancing at me with a smile on her face.
I take my glass and drink my Chianti, feeling pretty good about coming on this trip.
15
Jolene
Spending the night chatting with Nonna on her rooftop was the perfect night. Nonna told Zack stories of the many times I’d visited, and I shared with him some of my favorite anecdotes about staying with Nonna. I made spaghetti Bolognese, and we dined alfresco with the lights of the city illuminated below.
When Zack realized her table was wobbly, he asked her for a toolbox and fixed it, so it was sturdy again. Nonna, knowing she probably wouldn’t get good help around here for a while, gave Zack three other things to fix, and he did so without doing a double take. He just helped this wonderful woman—who, hours before, was a stranger to him.
I’ve never brought someone to meet her before, so until last night, I hadn’t realized how special this truly was.
Nonna has become someone important to me. I love her dearly.
When she pulled me aside and told me in Italian that she liked Zack very much, it brought a huge sense of relief to me. I want her to like him because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with him again.
Am I crazy?
Yes.
I’m not sure when it happened. Those flutters started the second I saw him in the taxi last week. God, was it only days ago that we saw each other again? The lust was palpable, but soon after, he was helping me with my ear and making me grilled cheese, and all the feelings started to surface.
Maybe it was when we were in Dixon and acting like the old us? No, that was just a reminder of what we had been. Maybe it was when we were making love in his office, and he agreed to come to Italy with me? Could be.
All I know is, as I stare at him with the light pouring through the window, hitting his gorgeous face as he sleeps soundly on this too-small-for-him bed, I have this terrible feeling in my chest at the thought of not being with him when we get back home.
I don’t want to give him back to the real world.
Can’t I keep him?
Is he mine to have?
Does he feel the way about me that I do for him?
With all this on my brain, I busy myself with coloring Nonna’s hair. She likes the American products more, so I brought her a box of L’Oréal and got to work in her kitchen on applying the color.
Zack sleeps in, which is great for Nonna because I know she wouldn’t be happy with him seeing her with a head full of level-five shade.
We share a cup of coffee while it sets before I help her style it, using the hairdryer and curling iron I keep beneath the sink.
I’m just putting the finishing touches on Nonna’s hair when Zack steps out of the bedroom, looking all sleepy and sexy.
“Buongiorno!” Nonna says when she sees him.
He smiles at the sight of her. “You look beautiful, Nonna,” he says and then leans down and kisses her on the cheek, making her blush.
Okay, if I wasn’t already falling head over heels for him again, that act would have totally cemented it for me.
He must see my wistful stare because he tilts his head, wondering if I’m okay. I brush him off and put my hair-styling tools away.
Today, I want to show Zack what Naples is all about. I want to open his eyes to what it’s like to experience life outside of California.
This is my opportunity to show him my life, and I plan on taking full advantage.
After dressing in a sundress and boat shoes, I pack a backpack I keep in my carry-on and grab a few things of Zack’s while he’s in the shower. He dresses in cargo shorts, a black T-shirt and styles his hair before heading out.
I kiss Nonna and tell her not to wait up for us before we head out on a walking tour of Naples. It’s a sunny day as we weave through the streets and pass cafés and vendors on the streets.
At a café, we have croissants and espresso. When we stop at San Gregorio Armeno, he eyes me, wondering why I’ve brought him to church when it’s not even Sunday.
I entangle my hand around his and yank him down the hidden-covered walkway. As we turn a corner, an enclosed garden filled with citrus trees comes into view, and he stops in his tracks, taking in the area around us.
He reaches out to touch the weathered stone. “How old is this place?”
“They say it’s from the seventeenth century.”
I love seeing Naples from his point of view. I remember the first time I came here. There’s nothing anywhere near this old in the US, especially on the West Coast. It was hard for me to fathom things lasting this long until I came here.
I let him take it all in as his fingers trace the lines of the trees that wrap around and grow into the stone wall enclosing us.
When he’s ready, I lead him down the alley, which is so narrow that it’s hard for us to walk side by side. You instantly feel like you’ve entered a different world, something off a movie set from an ancient time. The sun only peeks through in bits and pieces from the tall stone walls that surround us on either side.
Not many people are here, but on either side are little figurines, which are available for purchase. Everything from spiritual in nature to sports players line the sides. Zack places his hands in his pockets, as if he’s nervous he’ll break something if he touches it. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, with so much to take in. Souvenirs take up every bare space on the shelves and tables.
Zack stops and stares at a figurine of a woman. She has a red cloak draped over her shoulders, a crown of flowers on her head, and her hands over her head. He stops and stares at it, picking it up as if it means something special to him.
“That’s Saint Bona of Pisa,” I explain. “Do you like her?”
He tilts his head with a crooked grin. “Kinda. Yeah. I don’t know why though.”
I smile as I explain, “She’s the patron saint of flight attendants.”
Zack looks at me like that’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “I guess I have to get her then.”
He walks the item up to the register and pays for the figurine, asking the storeowner to wrap it up securely so it doesn’t break on his travels, and then places it in my backpack.
As we step out, hand in hand, it’s with a renewed feeling that whatever this is between us definitely feels right.
I feed him pizza because you can’t come to Italy and not have pizza. He eats an entire one by himself and lets out these sex groans with every bite. Now that I know food makes him this happy, I want to feed him all day long.
And I do.
Gelato and cannoli, and he even falls in love with these chewy almond cookies called ricciarelli. He buys another fedora and outfits me in a floppy straw hat.
We continue our walk through Naples toward the ferry terminal, and I usher him toward the one that is departing for Sorrento.
Zack surprises me with how easily he follows.