Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“Again with the meaningless threats.”
Grumbling about unfairly sexy women, Finn wraps an arm around my waist and leads me to a restaurant he has picked out. The light is fading in the sky, turning it from intoxicating blue to a soft blend of pinks, purples, and orange. Puffy clouds, limned in silver, drift by. The air is cool but not cold or humid. It reminds me of California, the perfect weather, the golden, butter-soft light. But nothing in California looks like this.
Gingerbread-colored cobbles underfoot, weighty old buildings of thick and patinaed brown stone or muted pastel stucco.
We make our way down a curving lane, little wider than an alleyway. Light spilling from the big open doorways of restaurants guides our way. The sound of chatter and laughter, and the scents of good food fill the night. There’s an air of happiness here that’s contagious. All of it so beautiful it feels like a fairy tale.
Finn takes me to a little osteria where we’re tucked into a cozy alcove and plied with Chianti and focaccia. It’s my first night in Italy so I order pappardelle al cinghiale, while Finn helps himself to bistecca alla Fiorentina. I can only watch as he devours the massive cut of steak. A footballer’s appetite is truly impressive.
And all the while we talk, drink wine, soak it all in. People here are enjoying life. If only for today. That I’m here with Finn is everything. Happiness swells within me.
“You’re beaming,” Finn tells me with clear approval.
“So are you.”
“It’s the company.”
“You took my line,” I complain with a laugh.
“You snooze, you lose, honey.”
I shake my head, then salute him with one of the little icy glasses of limoncello the waiter left on the table at the end of our meal. “Game on, Mannus.”
He lifts his own glass. “Game on, Mrs. Mannus.”
After dinner, we walk hand in hand down the Via dei Calzaiuoli, one of the wider shopping avenues in the city. Large round stone planter benches run along the center of the mostly pedestrian walk, and people sit to rest or eat street food.
“You haven’t asked me why Florence,” Finn says.
“I thought it was obvious.” I wave a hand around. “All this?”
He flashes a smile. “Well, yes. All . . . this is pretty fucking perfect. However . . .” He turns a corner and stops us in front of a busy store where a line forms out of the wide-open shop front. Neon light spills onto the cobbles from a sign hanging from the old stone wall.
“Gelato?” It comes out in a happy squeak.
His grin widens. “Gelato. Straight from the source.”
He’d wooed me with gelato from the start, knowing my weakness for the confection. It’s better than diamonds.
I fling myself into his arms, and he gathers me up, chuckling.
“I figure,” he says as I pepper him with kisses, “we make our way around the gelato shops and find our favorites.”
“You’re my favorite flavor, Finn Mannus.”
He smiles against my lips. “I’ve been told I’m pretty tasty.”
“Hmm.” Secure in his arms, I lean back and look up at him. “The first time you sent me gelato, I fell in love with you.”
His mouth opens in surprise, but no witty quip comes out. I’ve managed to shock him.
Smiling, I tuck a lock of his hair back from his brow like I did that first day we met. “I sat there, eating that ridiculously delicious gelato, and all I could think was, I want Finn. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I knew then that I never wanted to be apart from you again.” A small laugh escapes. “And then my apartment went up in flames.”
Finn groans. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. Scared the hell out of me, Chester.”
“Yeah, it sucked, but . . .” I snuggle impossibly closer. “It was like the universe answered my unspoken demand. It brought me a way to be with you.”
He kisses me then, under the bright lights of the gelateria. “I’m never letting you go, Chess.”
“I know. That’s why my happiness is complete.”