Page 63 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

“Yes. Though... Come inside.”

They approached the ornate double doors, a dark walnut with brass handles, and they opened for them. Two staff members one on either side, holding them in place. “This is meant to replicate my family home.”

A glint of pleasure lit her eyes. “Oh. Thank you for showing me this.”

He looked at it through her eyes. He did not see dust and clutter. Rather the velvet furniture with its ornate wooden scrollwork suddenly became beautiful to him. The large, heavily framed paintings on the wall took on new life. Became a window into another time. Into the vision of the artist. Not simply a relic that would be better off in a bin than taking up space.

What was it that she did to him? It was untold.

It was completely unfathomable.

“It’s incredible,” she said. “I love it.”

“I’m glad that you do. We will stay here for a time. There is... A beautiful train ride through the Alps, I can take you there.”

He hadn’t realized until this moment that his desire to keep his life so spare, so filled with space, kept him isolated. Had kept him closed off from beauty, from joy. Being with her...he felt so close to something new that he could just about feel it. Not quite.

He wanted to feel it.

He wanted to have something now, so that he could give it to her. It suddenly felt essential.

That if perhaps he could find a way to make her happy enough, it might spill over into himself.

They rested well that night in a bed he would’ve normally been scathing of. For all its extra pillows, and drapery around it. He had nothing scathing to say about it, especially not given what had happened between the two of them in that bed.

She was a vixen and a sex goddess, and at the same time, irrevocably his. It filled him with wonder.

He had arranged for them to have their own glass railcar attached to one of the luxury liners that traveled between Italy and Switzerland through the mountains. It also had their own luxury sleeping accommodation. The train was not a high-speed train, rather it was designed to move slowly and allow the rider to take in the majestic view of the Alps all around them.

Their car had glass walls and a glass ceiling, and was outfitted with blankets, a table, and several places for them to sit and enjoy the view.

When they boarded, they were served hot chocolate with marshmallows, and Noelle immediately curled up in a large reclining seat, a blanket over her knees. She clutched the hot chocolate mug and looked up at him. And he felt not alone in a way that was profound.

He sat beside her. He had no interest in hot chocolate or blankets. Both were sweet and soft in ways that he could never be. But she wanted them. So he embraced them.

She looked at the mountains as they crept slowly down the track, and he looked at her. At the way the sun shone on her hair. The way her skin was illuminated by the fresh white snow.

“This is incredible,” she said, snuggling against him.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”

“I love mountains,” she said. “This reminds me of Wyoming. Of the Grand Tetons. And yet I don’t and I can never tire of mountains. It doesn’t make them commonplace. It’s stunning.”

“I cannot remember what it feels like to love things. I... Have never been fascinated by nature because I cannot control it. And as far as what I bring into my home...”

“I know.”

“You make me wish that I did,” he said, an ache suddenly expanding in his chest. “You make me wish... I wish I could feel the things that you do. But I can watch you feel them, and that is nearly as good.”

She looked at him, a smile curving her lips. “Why don’t you feel them?”

“It’s not that simple. It’s not I...” He had the realization that in order to fix some of the issues with where he was now he would probably have to go back to when they started. And the idea of that was... Unbearable.

So he would watch her. He would feel it through her. Because that felt manageable, at least. Because it felt good.

They took their luxury dinner in the car with the lights dimmed, so that they could see the stars up above them.

And when they retired to bed, they found it plush and lovely, walls closed in to offer privacy, but the ceiling glass so that they had the view.

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