Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
As we take our seat at the outdoor table, I stare at the Duomo across the way from us. It’s so close that I can see every crack and detail of the walls. I’m not sure how I can be expected to eat when I’m hypnotized by the structure that is casting its shadow down upon us.
“Shadow of the Duomo. Bucket list,” Nick says again as he then orders us our food and drinks.
I faintly hear the order, but I’m now watching a woman with a violin setting up nearby to play for tips. If this day couldn’t be any more magical, it’s about to reach a completely new level. As she begins to play a haunting melody, shivers run up and down my spine. I feel tears well in my eyes at just how happy I’m feeling. Everything bad has vanished. Everything has melted away. It’s just me, Nick, and the most perfect setting imaginable.
When our pizza and Prosecco arrive, I stare down at our food a little confused. The thin crust pizza is missing an important ingredient. Cheese.
“Hear me out,” Nick says with a chuckle. “You have got to try their pizza this way. It’s just their tomato sauce, basil, garlic and whatever else their secret recipe calls for. You don’t need the cheese to hide all the flavors. You’re going to love this.”
Even though it appears to be the most basic of pizzas, the minute I bite into it, I actually close my eyes and moan. An explosion of tastes erupts in my mouth and if a food could bring you to orgasm, this pizza would be able to do so.
“I told you,” Nick says as he bites into his own pizza.
“I’ve never experienced anything like this. The city, the food, the ambiance…” I almost say “the man” but I don’t want to show all my cards. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“We can’t hide in the countryside the entire time we’re here. I refuse to visit Italy and not come to this place. It’s like that gelato we had. Life changing.”
I smile at the memory of Loro Ciuffenna, feeling like it was a lifetime ago. Yes, everything about Nick Hudson is life changing.
I have started to let down my wall. As each day went by, I began to trust Nick enough to confess my wishes and my dreams little by little. I don’t know if it was the fresh Italian air, the food, the wine, or simply the company, but we spoke of art into the wee hours of the night. I confessed for the first time just how much I love it and wished it was part of my life. That I love color but have always lived in a world of gray. I admitted that I don’t have the luxury of dreaming because… well, I simply gave up dreams at a very young age.
I also confessed my hurt when it came to my mother. I didn’t go into all the details, as even speaking about them causes physical pain. But the fact that I spoke about her at all was something.
But my biggest confession is I admitted how I feel like an outsider always looking in. I don’t belong. I feel like I walk in a parallel universe not truly belonging to a real one.
I told him more about me than I’ve ever told anyone.
Nick listened, he advised, and he accepted. He never judged me for all the scams I was part of due to my mother. He never looked down at me because I was poor. He never made me feel like I was anything less than perfect. Nick had a way of making me feel safe and protected, even though my real life was anything but.
I liked being around him. I liked seeing his casual, Tuscan countryside charm. Yes, the man could work a suit and tie like no other, but to see him in jeans and a black t-shirt with his colorful tattoo-sleeved arms on full display… mouthwatering.
I don’t want our time together to end.
We eat in silence for a while, listening to the music, appreciating the food and excellent drink, but finally, Nick leans back in his chair, his glass in hand, and says, “You really are beautiful sitting there. Italy gives you a look of sophistication that only adds to your natural charm.”
I can’t help but blush. The heat on my cheeks, only amplified by the slight buzz I have from the Prosecco, must give away my unease with the compliment.
“And you should never be embarrassed by praise,” Nick says.
“I’m just not used to it,” I admit.
“Well, you should. Because every word I say is the truth. I never lie.”
That much is true. Nick has always been a man of his word. What he says, he means, which only makes the compliment he gave me all the more intense.